Page 37 of Shrouded Desires
“And nothing.” Jonas shook his head. “Do you honestly expect a man in love to remember some asinine code name when he’s been told his man was shot?”
She shook her head.
“Come on, let’s get you back to the OR waiting room. Lizzie could use some moral support, even if she’s a little pissed at you at the moment.” The man looked at him from out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t even want to know what you did to piss her off.”
He meekly followed the man. “Jonas. I’m assuming you’re…John’s agent?”
“One and the same.” Jonas ushered him down the hall. “I’d love to say that he’s told me all about you, but my man likes to keep everything hush hush when it comes to his personal life.”
“I know.” He shoved his hands into his pockets even deeper.
“That doesn’t mean however, that your friend Lizzie wasn’t a fountain of information.” He placed his hand over Raine’s shoulder. “I know how hard this was for you to come down here – so I pulled a few strings and secured a private room for you and her to wait while your men are in surgery.”
“Thanks…” He drew in a deep breath as Jonas opened the door for him. Inside the sparse room was a short couch, a small table, and one pissed off Lizzie. One look at her face, he wasn’t sure he even wanted to go into the room, despite the respite it would offer from the crowded waiting room down the hall.
“Well, don’t just stand there, Raine Anders Donovan!” She placed her hands on her hips and he winced.
“The middle name, Liz?”
“I’ll do more than use the dreaded middle name.” She stalked towards him. “How many?”
He didn’t even pretend to not know what she was talking about. “Ah….a few.”
“How many is a few?” She reached up and grabbed the short hairs at the back of his neck. “And don’t you dare fucking lie to me.”
“Eight or nine.” He finally whispered, tears welling in his eyes. A masochist he might be, but no one liked when the short hairs at the nape where pulled.
“Eight or nine!” She released her hold. “As soon as your Daddy gets back on his feet, he’s gonna whoop your ass.”
“Maybe.” He looked away. “Or maybe not.”
“Don’t you dare go all, “I’m not worthy” on me, Mister! That man loves you and isn’t about to throw you away because you backslid. However, that doesn’t mean you’re going to get out of whatever punishment he deems fit.”
He froze. “He doesn’t love me, Liz.”
“The fuck he doesn’t.” She leaned into his face. “Storm Parkers doesn’t change for anyone. But not only has he held you, he’s slept with you in his arms. He doesn’t do that with his play partners.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Liz.” He rubbed the back of his neck, very aware that Jonas was hovering behind him.
“The fuck I don’t. Master knows Storm better than anyone alive, and when he told me that he’s finally seeing the old Storm, you can bet your ass it’s because of you.”
He opened his mouth to protest but was interrupted by a nurse. “Mrs. Rodkin? Mr. Donovan?”
He turned to face her, his heart pounding wildly. “Yeah.”
“Both Mr. Rodkin and Mr. Doe have pulled through surgery and are in recovery. Dr. Sanders and Dr. Johnston will be coming in shortly to inform you of their prognosis.”
“Thank God.” He whispered. Storm was alive.
Behind him Lizzie sobbed. No longer angry, Raine walked over to his bestie and pulled her into his arms, their fight forgotten.
Chapter Seventeen
Storm stirred as the door to his room opened. It’d been a few days since what the police had considered to be a drive-by had happened. The first few days he’d been more out than in, but during his few coherent moments he remembered seeing his boy near his bedside, either curled up in chair reading on his phone, or sleeping on the cot they’d brought in. Today was the first time he’d woken, feeling clear headed and not dead to the world. It’d been hit or miss for the past few days. Now that he was among the land of living again, he wanted answers.
“Don’t even think about sitting down in that chair again, boy.” He patted the mattress next to his hip. “I want you right here.”
Raine bit his lip nervously. “I’m not sure about that, Sir.”
