“Lawsuit?” Bob’s eyes widened. “I don’t want any negative publicity.”
“Don’t worry.” She put an arm around Jay’s waist as if he was about to collapse and she’d actually be able to stop his fall. “I’ll take care of everything.”
• 14 •
“Around the back to Bay 5.” Zara leaned over the seat to talk to the Uber driver. “It’s the last one on the left.”
“That’s for ambulances,” Jay pointed out.
“It’s also for people who have a friend who is an ER doctor and is giving them special treatment. I come here all the time. It’s not a problem.”
“What do you mean you come here all the time?” Jay rubbed his head. He suspected the headache was more at the thought of Zara going to a slimy D-list actor’s zombie dust party than any injury he’d suffered from the fall. Or maybe it was because he associated hospitals with the worst times in his life: his mother’s illness and the aftermath of the crash that still gave him nightmares. Those first few days in the field hospital, still suffering the effects of a parachute drop too close to the ground, he’d had to watch soldiers bring in the bodies of the men he couldn’t save.
But no one was dying today. He didn’t even know why he had come except that Zara had threatened to put herself in a dangerous situation and he didn’t want to let her out of his sight. And maybe someone could give him a couple of pills to make the damn headache go away.
“My overzealous nature lends itself to the occasional injury,” Zara said. “It’s no big deal. No one has been seriously hurt or killed. At one point I contemplated having my dates sign a waiver before we went out, but then I figured that was just asking for trouble. People aren’t as careful when there’s a waiver in place. They take unnecessary risks. I didn’t want that to happen.”
Zara hadn’t been kidding about being in the hospital before. Jay felt like royalty when they were greeted warmly and then whisked through admissions at super speed. By the time Parvati joined them in the small curtained cubicle, he realized the whirlwind process had numbed the anxiety he usually felt when he visited hospitals or accompanied his mother for medical procedures.
“So . . .” Parvati smirked. “I understand that you fell backward and hit your head on a cauldron full of zombie brains. If I wasn’t a professional, I would ask if it helped.”
“Parv . . .” Zara shot her a warning look.
“There are just so many things I want to say.” Parvati chuckled. “So, so many things. But instead, I’ll just give you this . . .” She held out a folded pink square of cloth. “It ties in the back.”
Jay frowned. “I beg your pardon?”
“Change into the gown,” she said. “It’s hospital policy.”
His stomach clenched. This was getting out of control. It was one thing to keep Zara away from Bob. Another to subject himself to such humiliation. If he’d really been concerned about the fall, he could have contacted J-Tech’s staff doctor, who would have been happy to stop by his place and check him out. “I thought you were just going to assess my injury and look into my eyes with a bright light. That sort of thing.”
Her lips twitched at the corners. “You have insurance. I think we’d better be thorough. I’ve ordered a CT scan and for that”—she opened the gown with a flourish—“you’ll need to put this on. And don’t worry. I’ve seen it all.”
“I’m suddenly feeling better.” There was no way he would suffer the indignity of a hospital gown.
Zara sat on the bed beside him and put a gentle hand on his arm. “I thought you lost consciousness for a few seconds. I know you were up right away and tossing bad zombies around like there was no tomorrow, but I really think you should get checked out to be sure.”
Her touch, her warmth, her soothing presence. Jay had been looking out for himself since he was ten years old, taking on the responsibility of shopping and meals so his mother could work extra hours. As a captain, he’d been responsible for his men. As a son, he’d looked after his mother when she was ill. He was the protector, not the other way around. But in that moment, he would have done anything she asked. Giving Parvati a brief nod, he said, “I’ll stay.”
“I’ll send a nurse to get you set up when you’re done.”
Zara followed Parvati outside the cubicle. Her voice dropped to a low murmur and he focused on getting changed and trying to tie the stupid gown so his ass wasn’t hanging out the back. By the time she pulled back the curtains, he was on the bed, a blanket over his legs, his body swathed in thin cotton.
“You look very fetching in pink.” Zara’s lips quivered with a smile.
“I blame you for this.”
Zara shrugged. “How was I to know you were so frightened of zombies you’d back away and fall into a cauldron?”
Their conversation drifted to his security work. Zara pressed him for details of the celebrity parties he’d attended until a nurse whisked him away for the CT. When he returned half an hour later, she showed him pictures of the movie stars she had deduced were his clients. He couldn’t tell her that she had guessed them all.
“You don’t have to wait,” he said after a nurse stopped by to let him know the results might take a few hours.
Zara heaved an exasperated sigh. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not leaving you alone. If you hadn’t agreed to come, I would have called you every hour to make sure you were okay. This way at least one of us can get some sleep.” She wandered over to the medical equipment on the back wall and absently flicked a switch.
“I thought you were going to Bob’s party.” Jay settled back on the bed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in a bed for anything other than sleep or sex. Relaxation was not part of the success equation.
“Are you kidding?” She pressed a button, then another. “Did you seriously think I was going to a hotel room with a bunch of random drunk dudes to roll around in a bed covered in enough illegal substance to put us all away for life? I’m a lawyer. I like being a lawyer. I’m not going to throw it all away for a chance to represent D-list celebrity Bob Smith. And what kind of celebrity name is that? I told him he should get a stage name if he plans to make it big. Something cool. Vin Diesel’s real name is Mark Sinclair and Cary Grant used to be Archibald Leach. I’m sure we could jazz up Bob Smith.”
After watching her in court, he should have known better. Nothing got past Zara even if her attention seemed to be focused elsewhere. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. Especially if it meant he’d wind up in a hospital bed for a slight headache that could have been cured with a good night’s sleep. The only way this situation could get worse was if . . .