Page 69 of Jackson
“Your fiancée hasn’t left your side.”
Please tell me Molly didn’t just say that.
Paula froze as she realized her cover as Jackson’s fiancée had been blown faster than she had hoped. She’d assumed Jackson would open his eyes, and she could explain her presence. They’d laugh about her deceit, or he’d punish her for lying—or maybe not.
Not able to look away from the battered man in the hospital bed, she waited as he turned his head with great effort, his expression pained. Her eyes locked with his, and his visible confusion changed to pure delight. She loved how his blue eyes reflected his mood, and she stared into them. How could he be on his back in a hospital bed and still dominate the space around her? Was there a lack of oxygen here?
A movement caught her attention, and she tore her gaze away from his. Jackson had lifted his free hand from the bed and held it up to her, inviting her to join him. Paula felt the magnetism of Jackson’s dominance on her submissive nature and damn if it didn’t make her giddy.
She pushed away from the wall she’d propped herself up against as Molly and Dr. Carver had entered and hurried overto the bed. Paula ignored both and took Jackson’s hand in hers and clung to it. The medical professionals might know what Jackson’s body needed, but she knew what his heart and soul desired.
Jackson struggled to keep his hand up. He’d face Sauron if that would get him back his Melda. His arm felt heavy, but the surge of relief that flooded his system when she took it was worth the effort. To his bewilderment, Paula started to cry. He couldn’t do much more than lie there as he held her hand and waited for her to calm down.
He lifted his eyes and looked over to where the women in scrubs were standing. “Pl-please give us a moment,” he croaked, then turned his attention back to Paula, not checking or caring what the other two women did.
“S-sorry,” Paula blubbered.
“For crying?” His voice sounded like he’d eaten gravel for breakfast.
Paula wiped away her tears with her palms. She was beautiful like this, open to him. She nodded and gave him a wobbly smile.
She looked over to Molly and the doctor. “Can he have something to drink?”
Dr. Carver nodded, and Molly pointed to the cup sitting on the table behind Paula. “He can have ice chips. If they stay down then he can have water.”
Molly said, “I’ll get you the ice.”
“Please,” Jackson said. “Could we raise the bed a little?”
Dr. Carver picked up the remote and adjusted the bed’s position. “How does that feel? Any dizziness?” Jackson shookhis head, immediately regretting the movement when his head protested.
Molly returned with a Styrofoam cup and handed it to Paula. She spooned a few chips into his mouth, and the cold melting of the ice was a balm to his mouth and throat. After a few more chips, she put the cup back on the table.
Jackson nodded, which hurt much less than shaking his head had.
“Could I get something for the pain? My head and my leg are killing me,” Jackson asked the doctor.
“We already have you on some narcotics for your leg, and I’d rather not give you more until we’ve got a better handle on how serious your concussion is,” Dr. Carver said.
“I guess I’ll have to suffer.” One side of Jackson’s mouth tipped up as he pretended to grin.
“I’m afraid so. I suggest you get some rest, and the pain will improve.”
Paula asked, “How much does it hurt?”
He ignored her question and worried expression and asked, “What happened?”
“What happened is that you played hero thirty hours ago. Don’t you remember?”
This time, Jackson remembered not to move his head. “No.”
Paula sighed and started to tell Jackson the main events. He closed his eyes when he realized how close he’d been to death.
“How’s the boy?” he asked.
Before Paula could answer, a tall, lanky man in a white coat interrupted them. “Jackson Cagney, you crazy SOB, I knew it had to be you. You’re the only gangster I know who’s a cop.”
Jackson tried to focus more clearly as he racked his brain for the man’s name. “GT, is that you?”
