Page 23 of Kept By the Loan Shark

“Okay.” She placed the juice and Sprite that had come with my dinner tray on the rolling cart and covered up the other things I didn’t want. Tray in hand, she said, “Let me grab those meds, and I’ll be right back.”

As the pain medication started to flatten the pounding throb in my head, I closed my eyes and breathed slowly, desperate to ease the nausea rolling through my stomach. The door opened, but I kept my eyes closed, feeling that awful mouthwatering panic starting to build. Not wanting to vomit, certain it was going to make my head feel even worse, I tried to will away the sensation but it was useless.

“Cassie!” Hagen was suddenly at my side, a pink basin in one hand as he gently supported me with the other. “It’s okay, baby. Just let it out.”

Embarrassed and in pain, I made a mess of the basin, the meager lunch I had eaten coming up in a puddle. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s no reason to apologize.” He rubbed my back and held the basin in place. “Is that all?”

“I think so.”

As I closed my eyes, he guided me back to the pillows. His heavy footsteps marked his trip to the bathroom to deal with the basin and then his walk back to my bedside. He had a warm, wet cloth in his hand that he used to wipe my face. “Better?”

“Yes,” I answered, my voice raspy and weak.

“Drink some water, baby,” he urged, holding a straw to my lips with his bruised hands. I didn’t want to drink anything, but I knew he was right. I needed to stay hydrated. He dabbed at my mouth again with the cloth and set aside the cup of water. “Are the pain meds bothering your stomach?”

“Maybe?” I swallowed thickly. “My nurse is getting some anti-nausea medication for me.”

“Good.” He stroked my cheek, and I leaned into his touch, soothed by his warm skin on mine. “I wish this bed was bigger so I could climb in and hold you.”

His rough voice and the vulnerable softness to his eyes made my heart flutter. I reached out to touch his jaw—and then a horrible screech broke us apart. A commotion erupted in the hallway as a woman shouted and others tried to calm her down. She didn’t react well to that, and a second later, the crash of metal clanged loudly. The door to my room flew open, and Hagen rose to his full height, spinning toward the door and blocking my body with his.

I couldn’t see the woman who ran shrieking into my hospital room, but I could hear her. She was completely out of control as she screamed, “You’re the son-of-a-bitch who killed my son!”

All hell broke loose as the woman rushed Hagen, battering him with her fists and trying to claw at his face. She was too short to do much damage, and he twisted away from the hospital bed, putting as much distance between her and me as possible. The woman—Travis’s mother, I assumed—was enraged, spewing angry words as she attacked Hagen. Even though he easily could have shoved her away or knocked her down, Hagen only blocked her blows.

“Ma’am! Please!” A doctor tried to grab her, but she smacked his hands away and lurched at Hagen again, this time swinging the chair at him like a TV wrestler. Soon, other doctors and nurses were in the room, all of them trying to get a handle on her. Ameka skirted along the edge of the altercation and stood in front of me, taking up the same spot Hagen had been in earlier, protecting me from any wayward blows. Finally, a pair of security guards ran into the room and managed to get a hold of her.

“You little bitch! I know it was your fault! You and your lowlife brother!” She kicked and screamed, cursing me and Hagen as they dragged her out of the room. Her voice echoed down the hallway as she called us murderers and vowed to kill us.

Shocked by the scene, I sat there, mouth agape, heart racing, and tried not to cry. I couldn’t find it in myself to be mad at her. She was a grieving mother, desperate for answers and for somewhere to place the blame.

“Are you okay?” Hagen strode toward me, his eyes stormy as he brushed off the concerns of the doctor and nurse who were trying to tend to his scratched neck and forearms.

“I’m okay. Are you?” I reached for him and let my gaze roam over his body, taking in the scratches and bruises already developing.

“I’m so sorry,” the doctor apologized. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

“You’re damn right it shouldn’t have happened,” Hagen snapped angrily. “I spoke to your staff about this before I left this morning. I warned them something like this could happen if their visitors weren’t kept separate.”

The doctor raised his hands in a silent gesture to placate Hagen. “We were keeping them separate, but Travis’s case was…” He trailed off as if realizing he was stumbling right into a HIPAA violation. “The situation changed this afternoon, and there were no more visitors expected.”

I glanced at Hagen, catching his gaze as understanding registered. Looking at the doctor, I said, “We aren’t going to hold the hospital liable, and we aren’t going to press charges or cause any problems for her. Please make sure she’s able to go home and grieve.”

The doctor nodded and left the room, taking the extra nurses with him. Ameka washed her hands and checked me over again. She trailed her fingers along the IV lines and the tubes coming out of my head drain before giving me the dose of meds for the nausea. She made a note that I had vomited and then left me the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

Hagen had disappeared into the bathroom while she was assessing me. He came out with his face and arms freshly scrubbed, the scratches cleaned and the blood rinsed away. He dropped into the chair next to my bed, exhaling roughly and leaning forward with his head in his hands. “What a fucking shit show this is.”

My gaze lingered on his scraped and swollen knuckles. I didn’t want to go there. I really didn’t. But I couldn’t help but wonder if he wasn’t telling me the truth. Travis’s mother’s voice echoed in my head, her accusations that Hagen had killed him leaving me to question if something had actually happened.

“John.”

He looked up, his eyes narrowing when he saw the serious expression on my face. “Yeah?”

I swallowed anxiously. “What happened to your hands?”

“I told you.” His eyes flicked away from my face for just a second. “I was in a fight.”

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