Page 18 of Fighting for the Forbidden
“Ben,” Mum snaps. That, along with the looks in both the nurse and doctor’s eyes, means I take a step back and sit on the edge of the bed.
“Just make it quick.”
I watch the clock tick around as they check everything that needs checking and poke and prod me until they’re happy with my progress. I told them I was fine and just needed some painkillers, but they wouldn’t have it.
“We’d like to keep you in another night, just to monitor you.”
“No,” I say getting out of bed. “Do I have clothes here?”
“Ben, I really think you should—”
“Fighting me isn’t going to work. I’m not sitting around in here. I’m fine.”
“You’ve been unconscious for a day. You’re anything but fine.”
“I need her, Mum.”
“I know you do, but now’s not the time. She’ll be gone–”
“Gone—” A memory hits me. Her one-sided conversation about flights and Heathrow airport. “Shit.”
Jumping from the bed, pain from my ribs makes my breath catch and my head spins. I lift my arm, hoping to ease the pounding in my head, but the cast collides with my forehead, knocking me back to the bed.
None of this is going to stop me. I need to find her before it’s too late.
Finding a little cupboard next to the bed, I pull the door open, not giving two shits that I’m flashing Mum in my open-back hospital gown.
“Ben, please be sensible. If the doctor says you should stay, then you should.” Her warnings go unheard as I pull some fresh clothes from a bag and tug them on.
“Where’s she going?” I demand.
Mum’s face pales when she realises that I know. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t give me that. Tell me. Make up for sabotaging me the other night.”
“Honestly, I don’t know. I told her not to tell me so I wouldn’t be put in this position. All I know is that she and Danni are going away for a few days.”
Fucking hell.
Grabbing the bag and the few belongings I have, I storm from the room and then the hospital.
The sun’s setting when I drag my broken body out of the main entrance, and I realise for the first time that I lost a whole day of my life in a hospital bed. I eventually find a taxi idling at the entrance whose driver is willing to give me a lift. Fuck knows what I look like right now. If his wide eyes are anything to go by, probably like I’ve been hit by a truck.
Scaffolding…A memory of being on top of the scaffolding on site, talking to Joe, emerges. We were arguing, no surprise there.
The taxi pulls up beside my car, which is still parked up by the strip club, and the last piece of the puzzle falls into place. This is what we were arguing about. Joe knew I was here, which means so does Lauren. Christ only knows what kind of stories he made up after finding me there.
I pay the driver, dig my keys from the bottom of my bag, and climb into my car. Everything aches, and the pain in my ribs almost has me crying out.
I just about manage the short drive to the office. Thankfully, it’s my right arm that’s in a cast; I’d never manage this if it was my left. I practically drag my body up the last few stairs, desperate to rest. The thought of lying in that hospital bed suddenly seems appealing, but I know this is what I need to do.
Thankfully, the office is deserted when I stumble through the front door, pull out her chair and sit gingerly at her desk. I’ve no idea if this is going to give me the information I need, but it’s my only chance of finding out.
Powering up her computer, I try a few possible passwords, but nothing lets me in. Groaning in frustration, I pick up the phone and call our IT support.
Twenty minutes later and I’ve got access to her account as well as her emails. Being the boss sure does have some perks.
She’s got loads of unread emails, so the only one that’s actually been read stands out like a sore thumb.
