Page 10 of Blade’s Edge (L.A.S.T. Defense #1)

Jasper

The frazzled young thing gives me a weak but friendly grin as I lean my hip against the counter. “I need to see a woman who came in by ambulance maybe forty-five minutes ago. Last name Marsh.”

“I’m so sorry,” she says, all warmth gone from her tone. “Unless you’re family, I can’t give you any information about a patient. Or even confirm if they’re here. HIPAA regulations.”

“Who’s the charge nurse tonight?” I ask.

“Um...” Her blue eyes take me in, and the moment she realizes I know my way around hospital politics, she softens a fraction. “Luke Everett.”

“Can you get him for me, please?”

Less than ten minutes later, I’m standing outside one of the curtained triage areas. Emi’s voice carries over the chaos of the ER.

“I’m not staying here overnight. I’m fine .”

“Ms. Marsh,” a woman says, her tone patient—if not a bit patronizing, “if you want to leave against medical advice, there are a few forms we need you to fill out. But you have a mild concussion and it really would be better if you let us monitor you until morning?—”

“I don’t like hospitals. And I need a phone. I can’t find mine. Or my purse. Shit,” Emi says. The panicked edge to her voice worries me, but I don’t know if she’s decent. Barging in probably ain’t smart. Then again, no one’s ever accused me of brilliance.

Careful to pin my gaze no higher than the side of the bed, I step around the curtain, remove my hat, and hold Emi’s purse at arm’s length. “I can help with that last part.”

“Jasper? Oh, my God. You brought my bag. Give it here.” She throws back the blanket covering her legs, then grabs her left shoulder. “Dammit.”

“Easy there.” I set the scuffed bag next to her on the narrow bed. Her hospital gown rides up her thigh, revealing a nasty bruise—along with miles of smooth skin. “You hit the ground pretty hard, sweetheart.”

Emi ain’t paying me no never mind. She’s too busy rummaging through her purse.

With each passing second, relief eases more of the tension lines crinkling around her eyes.

After she pulls out her tablet and checks the screen, she clutches it to her chest with a sigh.

“I can’t believe I left this behind. My entire life is on this thing. ”

Her long brown hair is mussed and tangled, half a leaf clinging to the strands. I slip it free, letting it flutter to the ground at my feet. “Well, it was hidden behind a dumpster. And that’s a nasty bruise on your head. I have your groceries too. I reckon most of them survived. Even the kale.”

Emi laughs, then winces as she presses a hand to her side. “Shit. That kind of hurts. But really...parsley? How could you confuse the two?”

“I don’t cook much. You should let them keep you here overnight.” I’m about to tell her she’ll be safe here at the hospital—once I get a couple of Rangers stationed outside whatever room they put her in—when the nurse breezes back into the room.

“This handsome gentleman is right, you know,” she says. “Concussions are serious business, darlin’.”

“No. I…I can’t.” Emi grabs the clipboard from the nurse and scribbles her signature across the bottom of the page. “Hospitals…aren’t for me. I need—I have to get out of here. N-now.”

She’s practically shaking. I reach for her hand, desperate to comfort her, to protect her, but she ignores me and scoots to the edge of the bed.

“Emi—” If someone did try to kill her tonight, home is the last place she should be going. But after giving me a look that could cut glass, she pushes to her feet. “Whoa, sweetheart. Don’t turn around unless you want to give me a show.”

Her side-eye is Oscar-worthy. “Don’t watch unless you want one.”

Holy shit. Emmylou Marsh might be the woman of my dreams. Smart, beautiful, and sassy as fuck. But she’s also in trouble, and I can’t let her leave here alone.

“I’ll…uh…be right outside.”

“I need five minutes, then I’ll get those groceries from you and be on my way.” She sways, her eyelids fluttering for a beat before she braces her hand on the bed and glares at me.

Well, that’s a dismissal if I’ve ever heard one. Don’t mean I won’t try to change her mind. And convince her to go to a hotel, a friend’s house, anywhere but home.

Emi

Maybe I should have asked the nurse to stick around. Getting dressed by myself is…harder than I expected. Every inch of my body is bruised and swollen. My heart won’t stop racing, and I’m so close to a panic attack, it feels like I just got kicked in the chest.

I have to sit down on the bed to finish buttoning my blouse. I should be better by now. It’s been twenty-four years. But the scar at my bikini line aches like it was yesterday.

Breathe. In and out. You’re fine.

Except, I’m not. I have a concussion, my car is burnt to a crisp, and as of three hours ago, Eugene Fowler still hadn’t been arrested. I don’t know what the FBI is waiting for. After this evening’s piece, they should have all the evidence they need to prove he’s working with the cartel.

My head throbs with every beat of my heart. A burst of nausea crawls up my throat. Shit. That’s bad. I need a hot shower and a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow, I’ll call Agent Van and demand an update.

Easing my purse strap over my shoulder, I sway on my feet for a moment until I get my bearings. I can’t believe Jasper rescued my groceries too. What kind of guy does that?

My phone, still buried under my notebook, sunglasses, wallet, and lipstick, rings. I barely manage to answer before the call goes to voicemail. “Nelson, I’m fine,” I say when my boss starts talking a mile a minute.

“I knew I shouldn’t have let you leave without a bodyguard. You got another five death threats after your report aired tonight, Emi. This is serious!”

“Fowler didn’t try to kill me,” I protest. “People as successful as he is don’t do this.

He’s an ass and he’ll go to jail for a while, but he’s loaded enough it’ll be at some cushy country club facility with a gourmet chef and a certified yoga instructor on staff.

He wouldn’t risk an actual murder charge over a couple million in bribes. ”

“What if it’s not a couple of million?” Nelson asks. “What if it’s a hell of a lot more? Emi, just because this might be the world’s most predictable Law & Order plotline doesn’t mean it can’t happen. To you.”

I roll my eyes, then almost fall back on the bed from the motion. My headache intensifies, and while I’m no longer dizzy—or at least not very dizzy—I’m clearly not in great shape.

I should stay. I know that. But all I can think about is lying on a gurney bleeding out three days before Homecoming. If my mom and sister had come home ten minutes later, I would have died. Instead, I had a hysterectomy and started hormone replacement therapy at seventeen.

I have to get out of here. Right now.

Carefully, I pull back the curtain, step into the hall, and run right into Jasper. “Shit. Sorry.”

“Emi? What’s going on?” Nelson’s voice rises until he sounds like a screeching demon spawn, and I cringe.

“Nothing. I’ll see you tomorrow. But probably not until after noon. We can call the FBI together and tell them what happened. We can even talk about that bodyguard again.”

He grumbles something that might be, “Okay,” and ends the call.

In reality, nothing is even close to okay, but I’m too tired to fight with him tonight. All I want is a handful of ibuprofen and my bed.

Jasper shoots me a look I’m too exhausted to figure out. “Boyfriend?” he asks.

There’s a smudge of dirt on his short beard, right at his chin. I reach up and brush it away, almost losing myself in his deep blue eyes. His hair is swept back from his face like he’s been running his hand through it all night, and for the first time, I notice a few strands of gray at his temples.

Covering my hand with his, he holds me in place. “Emi? Did you hear me?”

Hear…? Shit. I’m so exhausted, I can’t focus. What did he ask me? Oh, right. Boyfriend.

“No, sorry. Nelson’s the news director at Channel 5.” Three guys, all dressed in scrubs, race down the hall. I try to get out of the way, but I’m not steady on my feet—not in these heels—and pitch sideways into Jasper.

“Careful there, sweetheart.” His strong arm wraps around my waist, and stars and garters.

The expression—one my grandmother used to say all the time—just seems to fit with Jasper, though I’m not sure I’ve ever used it before in my life.

He’s so solid. And completely focused on me.

“You really should stay at the hospital tonight.”

“No. No, I can’t.” My heart starts to race. “I have to get out of here.” My vision starts to tunnel, and my throat tightens. “P-please, Jasper. Let…go…”

“Do you trust me?” His voice rumbles through me, deep and sexy and full of that twang I’ve always associated with home. With safety.

Amid the chaos of the emergency room, I hang on to that feeling, despite my panic. He’s so earnest. Like there’s nothing he can’t—or won’t—do to keep me safe. Jasper Blade is as honest as they come.

I can’t find my voice, but I nod. Carefully.

Jasper sighs. “I suppose that’s good enough for now. I know a quick way out through cardiology.”

With his arm still tight around my waist, he steers me through the halls.

As soon as we pass through a set of double doors, it’s quieter and calmer.

The scent of blood starts to fade into the background.

Two minutes later, we’re outside, only a couple hundred feet from a big, hunter green pickup truck.

The lot isn’t full. Not by a long shot, and a cool breeze prickles against my cheeks. Suddenly I’m very, very aware of how vulnerable I am. He was a Ranger. I know he’s a good guy. But an hour ago, someone blew up my car .

“This…uh…thank you, Jasper. For everything. But I can manage from here. I’ll call a rideshare to take me home.” I duck out from under his arm, teetering on the uneven pavement for a moment before I can steady myself.

“Sweetheart, I ain’t leavin’ you out here.

If you insist on calling that car, I’ll wait with you until it shows up.

But I’d much rather drive you home. Or…to a hotel.

Or hell, to my place. Anywhere you won’t be alone.

” Jasper guides me toward his truck with a hand at the small of my back, unlocks a storage box in the bed, and pulls out my bag of groceries.

“What the hell is kale anyway? Fancy spinach? It looks like I should be feedin’ it to a horse. ”

“It’s not— ” A wave of pain blooms across my forehead, and my stomach twists. “Shit.”

Before I double over, Jasper’s there, steadying me, letting me lean against him. “You’re not staying by yourself tonight, Emi. You didn’t much like the idea of coming home with me, so I’ll give you three choices. Go back inside, go to a friend’s, or let me sleep on your couch.”

“I can’t do any of those things.” Taking a step away from him, I pull out my phone. “I’ll be fine. I promise. My building is secure.”

He huffs out a breath, setting the canvas grocery bag down next to me and shoving the kale back inside.

The fire in his eyes should scare me, but instead, I feel safe.

Protected. “Fine. But I’m waiting with you until the car shows up and you’re giving me your number so I can check on you in a few hours. ”

“A town car will be here in seven minutes.” I show him my screen, then sink down onto one of the benches along the side of the building.

“You don’t need to wait with me. There’s a whole hospital full of people thirty feet away.

It’s been a terrible night, I barely know you, and I’d really like to be alone now. ”

Tears prick at my eyes, and I lean forward with my elbows on my knees. I’m being a bitch to him, and I don’t know why.

Jasper takes a few steps back, removes his hat, and holds it over his heart. “I figure you could learn quite a bit about me if you wanted to. You bein’ Channel 5’s star reporter and all.”

Despite my body feeling like an old punching bag, I start to laugh. Big mistake, as it makes the pounding in my head so much worse. “Star reporter? That’s not a thing.”

“It is from where I’m standin’. Your reporting on that Fowler asshole was damn fine work.”

Leaning against the door of his truck, he crosses his legs at the ankles and shoves his hands into the pockets of his Wranglers. His eyes dart around the parking lot, lingering briefly on each shadow, each person heading to or from a car.

Shit. I haven’t been paying attention to anything around me. What if Eugene Fowler is trying to kill me? What if he knows he didn’t succeed at the grocery store? What if he found out which hospital I was taken to?

My phone screen isn’t as clear as it was a few minutes ago. God. I’m so tired. I want to sleep for a week, wake up, and find out this was all a bad dream.

The rideshare app buzzes. No. This can’t be happening. The car’s ten minutes away now and headed in the wrong direction. Another blink, and it’s twelve minutes away. For the love of all that’s holy in this world, I want to go home.

“Jasper?”

In two shakes, he’s in front of me, crouching down with a grunt so we’re almost eye level with one another. “You okay?”

I show him my phone screen. Fifteen minutes now. “I…could you…?”

“I’ll drive you home, Emi.” He holds out his hand, his fingers curling around mine to help me to my feet. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“Seeing as you saved my kale…”

Jasper opens the passenger door and practically lifts me into the seat. “I just might have to try it one of these days.”