Page 12 of Deadly Blooms (Psychic Unraveled #1)
APPLE JUICE AND WEAPON CHECKS
Maggie
“Oh—,” I winced, the pounding in my head was worse than a hangover. Slowly, I opened my eyes, but they snapped shut involuntarily when the piercingly bright fluorescent lights made me think I’d caught a glimpse of death.
What the hell happened?
Chester. Where’s Chester? I sat up slowly, the sterile smell of bleach and latex gloves hit me harder than the light.
Shit!
It wasn’t a dream.
I snapped my eyes open and shut several times, but the plain white walls with medical posters and equipment remained hanging in the room.
No-no-no!
Fuck!
I wiggled my feet under the warm white blanket covering me and looked past the end of the hospital bed.
A sliding glass door.
A baby cried down the hall. Monitors beeped in sync like a heartbeat. I hated that I could hear my breathing.
On the other side of it, leaning over the nurses’ desk was Officer Locke and the tightest ass I’d ever seen.
I’d only met him that once, but I knew it was him.
That man was solid, built like a fucking fortress.
He was a beast, powerful and intimidating.
I bit the corner of my mouth wishing it was one of those ass cheeks I could sink my teeth into.
Good god. Why was he like that?
His uniform stretched over his broad shoulders and thick chest. Obviously he never skipped leg day, because his thighs were thick, strong, built to carry weight. And the way his leg holster gripped tight to it sent my pussy into overdrive.
Here was a better question Maggie, why were you like that? A thirsty thirty-something with nothing on her mind but sex, bondage, and Tootsie Rolls—could you blame me? Look at this man, he’d have no problem throat-punching a demon, then taking you out to a no-kill shelter to cuddle kittens.
The nurse at the desk gestured to me, so it was time to mop up the drool before Officer Locke turned and noticed me ogling.
He entered the room, barely fitting through the door when it slid open. Reaching up, he clipped the little switch at the top to hold the door open before approaching me.
I felt tinier and tinier with every step he took.
“Look who’s back from the dead.” His gaze met mine, and he stretched out his arm, setting a small green box of apple juice on the table next to the bed.
“The uh… nurse said you looked dehydrated and thought this might help.”
God, hearing his voice made everything worse. The heat of my growing arousal, the brightness of the lights, my headache—even the fucking juice looked oddly obscene.
“Thank you.” I said.
Then it clicked.
“You… called me Cupcake .” I rasped, narrowing my eyes at him.
The corner of his mouth tugged up slow and cocky. “I did. Figured it was better than Hysterical Woman Number One .”
My cheeks flushed hot. “You’re an ass.”
“And you passed out in my arms. I figured the least I could do was stick around.”
I shook my head and grabbed the box of apple juice, my hands trembling like I’d just been through something—which, to be fair, I had.
The plastic wrapper on the straw fought back, of course.
It reminded me of trying to open a condom wrapper while your date watches, all expectant and smug.
You’re flustered, he’s grinning, and now you’re in a battle with latex and pride.
Except right now, I was parched, humiliated, and losing to a fucking juice box.
Finally, I managed to free the little shit and stabbed it into the box like my life depended on it.
Which, with the headache and the sweat soaking through the hospital linens—maybe it did.
I took a sip. The cool juice was a welcome relief.
I hadn’t eaten or drank much since before Jamie rearranged my insides.
My eyes locked with his. “Am I being held?”
He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his enormous arms, his jacket’s sleeves pulling tight around the bulging muscles beneath. “No. Cap wants to ask you some more questions when you’re feeling better.”
“So… tomorrow?”
He crossed one leg over the other in a casual, I know you like it, kind of way. “More like when you’re discharged.” He watched me finish my juice.
Why was he staring at me?
Did I land in cat shit?
God!
Was it the way I sucked the straw?!
Quit… staring… at me.
“So, where’s my car?” I set the empty juice box on the table, hoping he’d lose the look of a lion ready to pounce.
“It’s back at your place. I can take you to the station.” He turned around and waved the nurse down.
It took everything in me not to make it obvious I was staring at him, just as much as he stared at me.
A female nurse, late forties, maybe early fifties, strode into the room, her white tennis shoes squeaking on the polished floor. “What is it, Graham?”
“Georgetta, please send the doctor in for Miss Maxwell’s discharge.”
Eww! That sounded like I had an STD.
“Sure thing, honey.”
“Thanks, love. You’re a doll.” He said, watching the way her blue scrubs pulled tight over her chest.
Georgetta winked at him and swiftly exited the room.
“You’re a doll? Love?” I rolled my eyes and let out a single, “Ha?—!”
“What? People aren’t friendly to the hospital staff where you’re from?” He asked.
“Do I make a point to hit on the nurses taking care of me? No.” I pulled the blanket up to my chin and hunkered down under the covers.
“That wasn’t flirting. If I were, you’d know.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” I said through my teeth.
He pulled out his memo pad and scrawled something down.
“What are you writing?” I sat up straight.
“Heartless cupcake. Cruel to hospital staff back home.” He said with a glint of sarcasm rolling off his tongue.
“God, what is the matter with you? I just don’t go around telling the nurses they have a nice rack.”
“How does calling someone a doll equal nice rack ?”
“It doesn’t. But it was what you were thinking—wasn’t it?”
“What? No, I really wasn’t.”
“I mean…not even a little?” I smirked. “I wouldn’t blame you. It was pretty nice.” I used my foot to play with the clipboard chain at the end of the bed.
He just stared at me, stone faced—like he was trying too hard not to say something unprofessional.
I giggled.
“I think we should worry about the body in your backyard,” he said, wiping the bewilderment from his face.
I tossed my head back, forearm draped over my eyes, “Ugh—! Don’t remind me.”
When I looked back at him, his steel-blue eyes were locked onto mine. His jaw clenched, but his poker face said nothing.
“Do you think I did it?” I asked.
He hesitated and consulted his memo pad. “I’m trying to keep an open mind, but I have to admit… I’ve seen some strange shit on your street at night.”
“Are we talking naked man running down the sidewalk strange? Or glowing lights in the attic strange?”
His eyes shot back to mine. “Yeah, that. The second one. You know about it?”
The familiar rush of panic washed over me. “I saw it when I arrived this afternoon.” I paused analyzing his stoic expression. “I swear, today is my first day in Port Grey.”
The only thing that alerted me to the fact that he might actually believe me was his eyes. The rest of his body language said: Steer clear of this one. She’s a cold-blooded killer.
Dammit.
I needed him to believe me.
“Look—Nettles will sort this all out when we get to the station.” He placed both hands on the foot of the bed and leaned down so he was eye level with me. “Your house hasn’t looked abandoned in months, especially at night. We’ve had reports of lights on, movement inside, strange noises…”
I shook my head. “I don’t know what to tell you, Officer?—”
“Graham,” he said, his voice firm.
“Graham,” I repeated. “I didn’t arrive until this afternoon. Maybe it was the auctioneer? The appraiser? The lawyer?”
Just then the doctor burst into the room—followed by Georgetta—startling Graham, basically shoving him out of the way. The doctor was a tall, slender, dark-haired man in his late sixties. He gave me a quick once over and pronounced me fit to leave.
With a single nod, he handed me a stack of papers, and the next thing I knew, Georgetta was getting me into the wheelchair.
She looked me up and down, and suddenly I felt more exposed than I did when I forgot my panties in the back of Terrence’s car, and the only thing I had was my shortest mini skirt, a six-block hike, and winds pouring in off Lake Eerie.
She rolled me out to the covered drop-off, where the minivans of people with real problems got out. The salty air punched through the sterile haze while we waited our turn in the cycling line of patients. It smelled like low tide, diesel fumes—and oddly, fresh donuts.
“Get your story straight now… Captain Nettles and Graham will comb you over so good they’ll be able to tell the last time you shaved your kitty.”
I shot her a glance over my shoulder.
The fuck?
“I beg your pardon?” I scowled.
“You heard me. I know the look of a woman with a guilty conscience. I’ve seen so many. They’ll inspect you real good.”
“Well, I’ve got nothing to hide.” I said, straightening my posture.
Little did she know, the only thing I was guilty of was magically luring people into my bed.
The blacked out SUV pulled up, taking the place of the red minivan that was here just moments ago. Graham got out and opened the back passenger side door for me.
I stood and thumbed over my shoulder and said, “Ole perky tits over here doesn’t like me.”
His cheek twitched like he was biting down a chuckle. “That will be all, Georgetta, thank you.” He gave her a soft smile, then his eyes darted straight to mine with a look of “What’s the matter with you?”
“Of course, Graham, see you Friday at Moon’s?” She scrunched her nose and shimmied her shoulders like she was ready to party.
I raised a brow and climbed into the back seat.
“Ah—maybe… we’ll see.”
“Well, I always love it when you’re on the bar.” She eyed him up and down. “I’ll save some of my paycheck for you.”
“Do I even want to know?” I asked, looking up at him.