Page 5 of Dangerously Deceptive

“I nearly did. If it wasn’t for the fact that I quite like Patrick O’Keenan, I would have told him where to go. So, I will go to the meeting tomorrow and see his proof. I will make up my mind then. What are you going to do?” he asks, almost reluctantly.

With a groan, I realise I have to make a decision too. “I promised I would help her, so I will. I’ll make sure the job goes off without a hitch and we part ways. If I get laid at the end of it, brilliant, but if I don’t, I will come visit you in England and find an English girl to rock my world for the night.”

Now it’s Liam’s turn to groan. He only has a one-bedroom flat in London and he hates it when I threaten to bring women over. He knows I always go back to theirs, but I love threatening him.

“Well, on that note, we both should get some rest. Oh and, Kellan, remember, you should never shit where you eat. Bye, brother.”

I just about get the chance to mumble a very rude expletive before saying goodbye to the only person in my life that I truly care about. It’s the way I like it. Anyone who has ever mattered to me, besides Liam, they have always left. So, there’s no big surprise that I struggle to trust.

Looking at my watch, I see it’s almost one in the morning, so I begin my nighttime routine before crawling into the motel bed. You would think I would be used to sleeping in random beds considering the amount of time I spend in hotel rooms, but the truth is, I don’t often do this. Normally, I get the details I need online and everything is done electronically. That way, nobody ever finds out I’m Odin. But Shayla insisted on meeting, and now I know why.

As I shuffle around, trying to get comfortable, I send a curse up in the air straight for the Reapers who have pulled me away from my very cosy bed for this sack of shit. But, despite the mattress being rock-hard, I’m soon pulled into sleep through sheer exhaustion.

* * *

A loud ringingnoise pulls me out of my slumber, and as I grab my phone and look at the unknown caller ID, I notice the time is just after four in the morning. Far too early for someone I don’t know to be calling. Tentatively, I answer. “Hello?” My voice raises at the end, making it sound like a question. It’s politer than what I said in my head which was, ‘who the fuck is calling me at this ungodly hour and waking me up?’

“Mr. Kellan Burke. My name is Sally and I am ringing from University Hospital Limerick. Your girlfriend, Miss Shayla Callahan, has been admitted here with us. Unfortunately, she has been the victim of quite a serious assault. She has asked us to call you, and we really hope you can attend because she is refusing all medical treatment at present. She really needs our help, but we can’t do it without her consent. Are you able to get here as fast as you can?”

My stomach drops. There is so much wrong with this statement, but I will deal with it all when I speak to Shayla. If the medical professionals need to help her, then she sure as fuck needs to let them do their jobs. As I rush around getting ready to leave for the hospital, a dreaded thought crosses my mind as it occurs to me the Reapers did this to her. So much for her being an MC Princess. She is nothing more than their chew toy, and today they have chewed her up and spat her back out.

Bright flashing lights that hurt my eyes as I try hard to open them, combined with the incessant beeping, and the omnipresent smell of antiseptic, let me know I’m in a hospital bed. As I try to shuffle around, I am racked by pain everywhere and a small cry escapes. It’s been a long time since I’ve been so bad I’ve actually shouted out due to pain. When the punishment happens as regularly as it does, you learn to shut up and just put up.

At first I thought I felt someone gripping onto my hand, but nobody ever comes with me to the hospital, and even if they did, not one of those assholes care about me enough to take hold of my hand. It must be another one of my injuries, and so I try to do a mental stock check. I don’t even get any farther down than my eyes and realise I can’t see properly out of one eye. Not only is it so fucking swollen that the bright lights are just coming through a small slit, but the more I try to focus that eye, the blurrier it becomes, and the worse my headache gets.

Wow, they really did a number on me this time, I think to myself as I drift off to sleep, that woozy, relaxing feeling that usually accompanies a good dose of morphine taking hold of my body with great effect.

I don’t know how long I stay out for, but it must be a while because when I do come around, I can open my eyes fully, although there is some dizziness and headache. It feels like I have had some good time to recover, and now I need to get back to Kellan and the plan. I hope my absence hasn’t been a problem, or that we haven’t missed anything. Kellan told me we would have maybe one shot at this, let’s just hope that one shot waits until I’m ready.

I suspect that was part of their reason. Obviously, they wanted to punish me, and I talked back to them when they harassed me, but I didn’t expect this.

There’s that feeling again, that soft stroke of skin against skin, almost like someone is stroking my hand. I begin to shift, trying to turn my head enough to look. I hate how restricted I feel, but as soon as I move, the hand stops. I freeze, wondering why my movement makes it stop.

I feel the soft strokes for a few more minutes, and I can not only feel but hear my heart rate being soothed by this sensation. That’s when I realise this is not in my head. For the first time in forever, someone is with me, and the way they stroke my hand makes me think that they’re not my enemy. Until I remember, I don’t have friends. The only people I know are the Reapers, and they don’t fucking know how to be nice.

“Thank fuck, you’re finally awake,” rumbles the deep baritone of a man who I assume is sat beside my hospital bed. I almost want to laugh because the roughness of his voice is so juxtaposed with the soft, silkiness of his touch.

Straining, I try to open my eyes farther, and to make the left one focus more to get rid of the blurred vision. Shuffling slightly, and avoiding my hiss of pain escaping, I manage to pull myself up just a little more, so at least I’m sitting upright to address my guest.

Once settled, I try to open my mouth to speak, but it feels as though I have a mouth full of cotton wool, it’s so dry. As if he knows what I’m trying to say, within seconds I feel a plastic straw being placed in between my lips. “Just sip, for now. I know your instinct is to gulp, but just take it easy,” the sexy voice advises, and as soon as my lips clamp around the straw, memories come flooding back to me. The club I went to, but more importantly, the meeting I had at the start of the evening. How could I forget that voice? Kellan.

After a few gentle sips, he pulls the straw away and I move my head so I can see him sitting next to my hospital bed. One hand puts the cup back on the table, the other is firmly clutching my hand. He looks exhausted, like he has literally been dragged out of bed. His dark hair is mussed and flies in all directions, and his eyes have small black bags underneath them. He’s dressed in a tight black t-shirt and baggy grey sweatpants, looking not only like he just fell out of bed, but incredibly fucking sexy.

Within seconds of me thinking about his hot body, the loud beeping on the monitor starts speeding up, and I realise he can literally hear my heart racing for him. Fuck, if that isn’t embarrassing!

“Hey,” he says with a small smile etched across his beautiful face.

“Hey.” My reply may be croaky, but combined with my large smile and passionate voice, I want him to hear how grateful I am that he is here.

“How do you feel? I mean, other than shit. Do you need me to get a nurse or doctor? They did say they would be around soon to review you, they’ve been expecting you to wake up around now,” Kellan explains, as his thumb continues to lightly tap out a pattern on the back of my hand. I have no idea what he’s doing. I wonder if it’s maybe just a nervous habit for him, but either way, it’s weirdly consoling.

“Shit just about covers it. I’ll be fine in a couple of days,” I mutter, hating that I am downplaying this. We both know I won’t be fine in a couple of days. This time, it’s serious. But I also know that I have no choice but to keep going. To keep pretending as though everything is okay.

Kellan’s face morphs from one of sadness and contorts with rage, a deep red covering his cheeks. He’s fuming, and I don’t blame him. It may be his job to help cover up crime, but I bet this is the first time he’s ever covered up a crime like this. I, on the other hand, have done this more times than I care to remember.

Just as Kellan looks like he’s about to lose his shit, and get really angry, we are interrupted. Thank fuck for that. The short, dumpy, and incredibly cheerful nurse that just knocked on the door and burst into the room has now become my new favourite person. What perfect timing!

She wastes no time fiddling about with all the machines and wires that are surrounding me. As she puts the blood pressure cuff around my arm, that’s when she finally speaks. “Hello, lovely. My name is Annette, and I’m the nurse that’s looking after you for the next few hours. There will be a doctor coming by in the next half an hour or so, he wants to give you an update on your injuries and assess you. Basically, the police want to talk to you about the incident. When you were first brought in to A&E, you asked for us to call your boyfriend, Kellan, who has been by your side ever since, I may add. But you also told us you were mugged outside of a club. With injuries such as yours, lovely, we have no choice but for the police to be involved. But the doctor will make sure they don’t speak to you until you are ready. Is that okay?” she asks as she takes the blood pressure cuff off and records the reading in my notes.

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