Page 54 of Keeping Her Under
Of the most beautiful future with my girl.
Of the fruit hidden in the Garden of Eden.
Twenty-Nine
I barely finish cleaning by the time I have to go. I fucked her four more times during the night and came all over her tits, face, and pussy. I made her cream all over the sheets. The place was a mess and smelled like sex so much, I had to open the window.
With the room back in order, I pull her phone out of my leather briefcase, make sure the volume is on, then drop it into her bag. Although everything was documented by both the police and the hospital staff upon arrival, people make mistakes. And if that fails at ending their curiosity, I can always make them believe her shitty boyfriend probably dropped it off out of fear of being found with a stolen phone.
As I’m zipping the plastic bag back up, Ryan’s text comes through to tell me the coast is clear. And yet, I linger, wanting to spend more time with her.
“Soon,” I promise as I straighten with my leather briefcase in hand. “I’ll come for you as soon as you wake. You’ll never be alone again.”
After kissing her cheek, I slip out unnoticed. As I’m changing in my van, a text from Ryan comes through.
Ryan: I did everything you wanted. I want to see my mom.
I grin, thinking about showing him one of the other pictures Asher took, where he’s stretching her dry pussy or forcing his dick up her bloody ass. But Ryan deserves more than that, so I text him back.
Unknown: Good boys get rewards. Keep your phone on.
I turn the phone off, finish changing, then grab my normal cell. Calling Asher as I head inside my place of work, I tell him that the next part of my plan is in motion.
“Fucking finally,” he says on an exaggerated sigh. He’s been looking forward to his reward for a long time, and I’m glad he’s going to enjoy this. When I hang up, it’s with a smile and a skip in my step. My two favorite people are about to be well taken care of.
During my first surgery, I keep one eye on the monitors as I purchase dozens of gifts for my girl. Six oak bookshelves to convert one of the rooms upstairs into a library. Some ebony stain to make them dark like her books. I order some silver and red decorations – skulls, decorative knives, dragons, roses, a skeletal hand, anything that’ll look nice on her shelves. I get a red-and-black gothic rug, and a black beanbag patterned with white skulls, as well as a red reading chair with a matching stool. Some dark curtains and a blood-red chandelier. Antique chests. Victorian lace lamps. Bleeding candles. So many scents.
And a variety of sex toys, including a swing with a short, thick mattress as its base so I can fuck her while she reads to me.
A surgery has never gone so quickly.
By the time lunch comes around, my appetite for her has turned me into a starving man. I head for the ICU, needing to see her pretty brown eyes light up as she looks at all the things I’ve bought her. None of the nurses have said she’s woken yet, and floor gossip is quick to make the rounds, but there’s a feeling in my chest. A knowledge that she’ll wake as soon as her soul feels the presence of mine.
After all, we’re fated.
Nurse Jones is at the station when I walk into the ICU. She stands as soon as she sees me. “Sorry, Dr. Slader,” she says as she rushes over. “PR says you can’t be seen in the ward.”
“Why?” I keep my voice calm and inquisitive. But my hands twitch with rage at my sides, and the hairs on my nape rise. Did someone see me? Did Summer wake up and say something?
No… She wouldn’t. She loves me.
Nurse Jones’ face sours as she grabs my arm to pull me to a stop. “They have their heads up their asses all because of the VIP constantly coding. They want to make sure she doesn’t have any reason to sue you.”
I straighten with an arrogance that comes all too easily to me, jerking my arm out of her hand. “I kept her alive on that operating table. She wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for me.”
“You don’t need to convince me of that. You’re the best anesthesiologist we have, and her anorexia wasn’t easy to work with.” She pauses. “But with Ms. Wintry –”
“Mrs–” Slader, I start to instinctively correct. Her maiden name sounds so damn wrong now that I know how much of a bitch her mother is, but I cut myself off, acting as if I can’t bear to voice what I’m thinking. “She is a completely different case.”
“I know. But they don’t want the VIP getting her sights on you.” She mutters under her breath, “Or, more like, her bodyguard. That man is a pit bull.” There’s almost a touch of reverence in her tone; Nurse Jones always was a fan of protective men. I wonder how much she’d swoon if she knew what I’ve done for Summer…
Knowing just how to play her, I lower my voice to one of grief and shame. “I only want to check in on Ms. Wintry.” I hate the sound of that name in my mouth, and I let some of that disgust come out under the disguise of self-loathing. “I owe her that much.”
Nurse Jones’ eyes sharpen as they roam over my face. The bags under my eyes are dark today as I didn’t get much sleep last night. I subtly tighten the muscles of my forehead and around my mouth. It’s a minuscule change that’s hard for the eyes to see, but which the heart picks up instantly as a sign of pain.
“She doesn’t deserve to die because of my stupid mistake,” I say.
Not: She can’t die because of me.
