Inevitable Dream: Storm Enterprise, #3

Prologue

Rebel

I’m a lousy patient. I’ve been an ass to Sadie McCowan, but I can’t seem to help myself. I’m either going to be a sarcastic dick, or I’ll grab her by the hand and pull her onto the bed and kiss her plump pink lips. She’s infuriating, with her perky attitude and the way she calls me Mr. Hanes with a shy grin when she gives me my pills.

That smile packs a wallop. Then she touches me when she changes my dressing, and it takes every ounce of willpower to hold myself totally still. Her warm breath on my skin, the way she bites her lower lip when concentrating is a total turn-on.

My only recourse is being a dick to keep her at a distance.

How long does it take? I ask impatiently. I need to get her hands off me.

It will take as long as I need to make sure it’s done correctly. She continues with her soft hands on my stomach to put the bandage in place.

I got shit to do, I grunt.

Oh yeah, you planning on running the five-kilometer marathon? Or maybe you plan on continuing your salsa dance lessons, she teases. I don’t rattle her. Did you have lunch?

I’ll get it in a bit. The last thing I want is to have Sadie watch me struggle to get to the kitchen. Falcon’s been good about leaving meals for me to warm up.

You need to keep up your strength. I can fix you something, she says.

Don’t you have someone else to torture?

Nope. I’m your full-time pain in the ass until Falcon says otherwise. She lifts a brow and crosses her arms.

The easier option is to put some distance between us. Fine. Lunch would be good. It’ll give me time to get up and compose myself. Tonight, I’ll talk to Falcon about calling off his hound.

She’s been with me day and night for over two weeks. The first week, she slept on a cot in my room. Sadie’s an angel with a heart of gold, with just enough attitude to make me want to know more about her.

The problem is, I’m beginning to like having her around, and that’s not good for either of us. I made the decision a long time ago that I’m better off alone. Sadie McCowan cannot be the exception. She saunters out of the room, my eyes glued to her perfectly rounded ass, her hips swaying, and even in her pink scrubs, she’s sexy as hell.

I have a thing for blondes, normally, that was until a redheaded, green-eyed siren came through the door. I was highly medicated when I first saw Sadie, and I thought she was a dream. Then morning came and she was asleep beside me, and she was even more alluring.

Ever so carefully, I shift into a sitting position with my feet firmly planted on the floor. That in itself is an effort. I hate this feeling of helplessness, but I’m much better than I was, and I’m getting stronger every day. One more week and I’ll be able to move around more easily, and I’ll be able to get back to work. Falcon will have me on desk duty, but I’ll be able to get back to the gym and work myself back up to the physical level I need to be in to catch bad guys.

I’m walking with greater ease and feel stronger. Unfortunately, the bullet caused some damage, and Falcon is acting like an overprotective father. Hence, Sadie’s still here anytime Falcon isn’t around.

After doing my business and cleaning up in the bathroom, I walk through to the family room, giving me a clear view of Sadie at the stove. The smell of whatever she’s cooking is amazing. She’s so immersed in what she’s doing, she doesn’t notice that I’m staring at her. Sadie goes about building a Philly cheese steak sandwich and cleaning up after herself after putting the sandwich in the oven for the finishing touches.

Meanwhile, she reaches into a brown lunch bag and pulls out her own half sandwich. It’s basically two slices of white bread with meager filling. Sadie’s making me a monster meal, and she’s nibbling on next to nothing. The oven dings, and she preps my plate, adding carrots, celery, and dip.

She turns and nearly drops the plate when she sees me standing there watching her.

You scared me. How long have you been there? she asks. It doesn’t go unnoticed that she’s staring at my bare chest. Mind you, I have a dressing covering a fair bit of my midriff, and she quickly averts her eyes and concentrates on placing the plate down on the kitchen counter, where the stool is situated.

Not long, I answer, coming closer and sliding onto the stool. I see her stash the remainder of her sandwich in her bag and tuck it away in her backpack.

Well, you eat your lunch, and I’m going to go and change the sheets, she announces as she breezes past me. I clasp her arm. She looks at me. Careful, you don’t want to pull your stitches, she says teasingly, then gently pulls away.

She races out of the room before I can say another word, leaving me to watch as she runs away from me yet again.

Chapter 1

He Got My Purse

Sadie

Oh my God, I hope I wasn’t drooling. Rebel is by far the hottest man I’ve ever seen. His tousled blond curls and crystal-clear blue eyes are fantastic, but his hard, toned body rivals Adonis himself. Even injured, he’s a force to be reckoned with. He’s ornery and ill-tempered, but, as Falcon explained, Rebel’s not used to being laid up.

He’s usually active, and being bedridden is a sign of weakness, Falcon told me when I took the job.

The way I saw it, a job is a job. Falcon pays extremely well, and with my college loans so close to being paid off, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel coming that much quicker. Three more payments and I’m done. Then I can start saving for a better apartment. My place is cute, but it’s tiny, and the neighborhood is questionable after hours. Being a nurse, I can come home at all hours depending on my shifts.

I’ve been working with this independent agency for the last few months, and the money is great, but eventually, I want to be an emergency room operating nurse. It’s what I went to school for and where I think I could be most useful. I’ve had a couple of interviews with the local hospitals, and I’m waiting to hear back.

I strip the bed and put on fresh sheets, throwing the dirty ones into the washing machine to get them started. I know I don’t have to, but I hate leaving things undone. I didn’t have to make Rebel lunch either, but how often can Rebel eat canned soup or a roast beef sandwich?

Rebel caught me by surprise when I turned around and found him leaning against the doorframe. With his pajama pants hanging low on his hips, and despite his torso being covered in a bandage, I can see his pronounced abs and massive chest and arms. I’ve been trying so hard not to make a fool out of myself and was so proud of my discipline, up until that moment.

By the end of this week, Rebel should be well enough not to need daily care, and I won’t be needed anymore. Three more days, I keep telling myself, and when I do, there’s a feeling of both relief and sadness.

When I first started looking after Rebel, he slept more than he was awake. His body needed that time to recuperate. I would watch as he slept, my fingers itching to sink into his blond hair to feel its softness. As he got better, he became grumpy. I ignored it because he isn’t my first cantankerous patient, and it’s normal to be out of sorts when recovering.

Falcon told me he was shot in the line of duty, and, based on the steady flow of visitors, I would say Rebel’s a lucky man to have so many people who love him, which means he’s probably a good guy.

By the time I get back to the family room, Rebel is napping on the couch. I carefully prop a pillow under his head and a blanket over him. Then I quietly go about cleaning the dishes, happy that he ate everything on his plate.

Rebel thinks he’s healed; however, a gunshot wound is serious, and his body has been through trauma. Rest is good. He needs it. Rebel pushes himself too hard. He tried to get up on his own that first day I was looking after him and nearly fell getting out of bed. I reached out and was able to steady him before sitting him back down on the bed. He hated it!

Later that evening…

It’s getting late, and Falcon’s not home yet. Our deal was that I’d wait until he got back before I left. Rebel’s doing great, but Falcon left explicit instructions, and he’s the one who’s footing the bill. I can’t afford to have him complain to my bosses. I need this job, and I haven’t heard from the hospitals yet.

I’m perfectly fine. You can go, Rebel says. After his nap, he decided to stay on the couch and binge every sports event on television. I sat quietly in the armchair with him, enjoying the afternoon. It’s been a long time since I spent the afternoon watching a football game, then a hockey game, followed by the highlight reels. This reminds me of times with my dad. Even now, on the rare occasions I have time off when a game is on, I call Dad, and we talk and watch the games together.

I made a promise, and I intend to keep it, I tell Rebel.

I’m a grown man. Falcon’s being ridiculous, Rebel grumbles under his breath.

He’s only doing all this because he cares, I reply. I’d quit bitching if I were you. Falcon is concerned, and I overheard your friends talking when they first brought you home. The guys refused to leave your side, and their girlfriends cried for you. If it gives them peace of mind to have me stay, then what harm does it do you?

Guilt is apparent on his face. Before he can say anything, the key turns in the lock and Falcon comes in. He looks from Rebel to me, then settles on his friend. Sorry I’m late. We were reviewing a file, and it went later than I thought. He then turns to me. I’ve got this if you want to get going. It’s late. Take a taxi home. He comes over to me and hands me a fifty-dollar bill.

Oh no, I can’t take that. I shake my head, slipping on my sweater and grabbing my knapsack.

Take it. Falcon pulls up my hand and puts the money in my palm. See you tomorrow.

I look at the money, then into Falcon’s eyes. Thank you.

As I ride down the elevator, I contemplate taking the bus as I’ve done all this time. I could pocket the money and splurge on new scrubs. I’ve been putting off that expense until my next paycheck, but this would be a nice way of saving some money.

It’s a fifteen-minute walk to the bus stop from the Storm offices where Falcon lives. He built his private apartment attached to the offices because he’s that kind of guy. Falcon is intense and takes his work seriously. You can tell that Rebel and the other members of the team respect him and he’s the leader of the crew.

I have to admit, walking out at this hour of the night is eerie, but I can see the bus stop up ahead, and after googling the bus route, I know that the bus is due to arrive in a few minutes. As I check my watch, I barely notice a shadowy figure rushing up on my left.

Ten o’clock the next morning…

I have every right to cry, I tell myself as I sob into my pillow. After all, I’ve been mugged, beaten, and bruised, and worst of all, they got my purse. Good news, they only got the fifty bucks Falcon gave me and a broken purse. I refused to let go, and the thief had to rip it out of my hands. Another lucky moment was when the bus pulled up and the driver scared off the goon before he could do any more damage.

The bus driver insisted on taking me to the hospital, but I already knew the extent of my injuries. Short of wrapping my ribs and cleaning the cut on my forehead, there wasn’t much more they could do. Dr. Simms wanted to keep me overnight, but I just wanted to go home. The doctor was afraid I had a concussion, but I told them I felt fine. I promised I’d come right back if I my headache got any worse. Of course, the police came to the hospital and took my statement, which reminds me that I still need to go to the station to look at mug shots to see if I can point out the mugger out of a million photos.

With all this on my mind, what upsets me most is knowing I’m not going to make it to Rebel’s today. It’s not for lack of trying. I made it as far as getting dressed, but I couldn’t make it out the door. The toughest moment was calling the agency to have a replacement go in my place.

The owner of Nurses on Call, Henrietta, was wonderful and wanted to come over herself to look after me, but I told her I was doing fine and wanted to be alone. I should have taken a cab or an Uber, like Falcon said.

Rebel

She’s fucking late! Sadie’s never late. As a matter of fact, she’s always annoyingly on time. Sadie takes pride in her work and takes her job seriously, so when the doorbell doesn’t ding on schedule, I know something’s wrong.

I walk out to find Falcon on his cell phone. He’s looking down at his boots, and I can sense there’s something wrong.

Right. Yeah, he responds to whomever he’s speaking with. How is she? I hear him ask, and I feel a pang in my chest. It’s Sadie, I’m sure of it. Rebel won’t want anyone else. There’s a pause and he says, "Don’t bother. Do you know