The next time I wake, it’s morning, and Grumpy is back in his chair with a fresh newspaper in hand. “Morning, Tayter-Tot,” he calls as I roll out of bed and head for the bathroom.
I mumble a semi-coherent hello and drag myself to the bathroom.
He simply chuckles. “Yer a peach in tha mornin’.”
I stamp down an overwhelming urge to flip him off. He’d ground me for it, which is bullshit since I don’t even live at home anymore. Before I shut the door, Grumpy shouts out to me, “Them crazy friends a yers packed ya a bag a crap. Told ‘em ta stick it in there.”
My mood perks up when I spot the blue duffle bag. After sifting through it, I confirm Evelyn and Michelle thought of everything. My comfy clothes, some undies, slippers, my tooth brush and some toothpaste, and my shower stuff. I stop digging when I find those things because I only want a shower right now. I’ll search through the bag for what else they packed after I’m clean again.
My shower takes longer than I planned, the pressure of the spray relaxing my muscles. Normally, I don’t hang around in the shower. I get myself clean, and I’m done. Not this time. It takes effort, but I reluctantly switch the water off and go about drying and getting dressed in my soft pink and black leggings and matching pink tank top. It’s my favorite for lounging because of the built-in bra.
After discarding my horrible hospital gown and robe, I search for my hairbrush in my bag and find multiple other things shoved into the pockets and zippers. My makeup, which I put on to appear slightly human again. I only ever wear mascara and eyeliner, but it always boosts my confidence.
Searching deeper, I find my phone and charger. I try to turn the phone on, but the battery is dead. The girls threw a bottle of Diet Coke into the bag also which makes me laugh—they know me too well. My brush is tucked in a side pocket, and I find my mini hair dryer as well. Evelyn and Michelle are getting the biggest Christmas gift ever this year for remembering everything. I brush my teeth, dry my hair, and add a little bit of leave in conditioner to my naturally loose waves.
Once satisfied with my appearance for the first time in weeks, I stuff my things back into the bag, grab my phone and charger, and exit the bathroom. I stop short when I survey the room and find all four sexy as hell SWAT men. When did they show up?
Marak notices me first, his eyes widening when he spots me. He clears his throat twice before speaking. “Hey, Red, have a nice shower?”
“Erm.” My brain short-circuits for a second as a mischievous smile plays on his pouty lips. “Oh, yeah, it was good.”
I’m saved from further embarrassment when Dr. Lenny strolls into the room with pep in her step. “I have good news for you, Miss Taylor.”
I shuffle across the room, plug in my phone, and sit on the edge of the freshly made hospital bed. I hope to high heaven someone who works here came in and did that. If one of the guys changed my dirty sheets, I might die. “You won the lottery, and you’ve decided to donate the winnings to me?”
“Not even close,” she scoffs. “You do get to go home today, though.”
“Hallelujah!” I jump back to my feet while fist pumping the air and do a little dance before remembering the men in the room and stop mid hip shake. “I mean, that’s cool.”
“Ya know, Tayter-Tot.” Grumpy folds his newspaper, sets it on the small table in front of him, then stands. “Maybe it’d be a good idea fer ya ta come ‘n stay with me. You’d be a heck of a lot safer back home.”
Folding my arms in defiance, I shake my head. “There’s no way in hell I’m letting that douche nozzle scare me away. I’m going back to my apartment.”
“It’s not a terrible idea, Taylor,” Allistar presses. “We don’t want to scare you, but we want to keep you safe.”
“Nope, not happening. I like my apartment. I like my job. Most of all, I like my freedom. I’m not going to move back home and have Grumpy babysit me.” Pointing to Grumpy for emphasis, my voice grows a little louder. “The man is a tyrant when it comes to crap like that.”
“The hell I am!” he yells back. Of course, the guilty expression he fails to hide gives away his lie.
Ignoring him, I lower my accusing pointer finger and place my hand on my hip. “I won’t even be able to pee alone.”
“Now, yer just bein’ dramatic, lady.” Grumpy rolls his eyes and drops back into his chair. “I never followed ya ta the damned bathroom fer cryin’ out loud.”
I spin around, facing Grumpy completely. “You stood outside the bathroom door when I sprained my ankle, Grumpy. It’s basically the same thing. I cannot pee with an audience.”
“Okay, enough,” Maverick pipes up, his tone demanding everyone to shut up and listen. “Taylor is an adult, and she can make her own choices.”
“She ain’t hardly legal,” Grumpy mumbles indignantly.
Maverick continues before I can yell at Grumpy for his comment. “My suggestion is for us to have an officer drive by her house a few times per day as a precaution.”
“That ain’t gonna do crap ta protect ‘er,” Grumpy argues. “What’ll happ’n between tha drivin’ by? She’ll be all alone and ain’t no one gonna be ‘round ta protect her.”
“What if we had an officer sit at her house?” Syn’s suggestion breaks the tension in the room, and he expands on his idea, “It’s the best solution, I think. Someone would be able to watch Taylor at all times without having to be in her space. She can stay at her place, and no one has to worry about her being unprotected.”
“I’m good with that plan,” I relent easily. The small bit of protection would put me at ease, and I’d maintain my freedom.
Grumpy huffs and puffs for a few minutes, but finally agrees. “Fine, I ain’t gonna get tha girl ta agree ta nothin’ else, anyhow. Stubborn brat.”
I gasp, firing back quickly, “Grouchy bastard.”
“Tayter-Tot, I swear I’m gonna end up pickin’ ‘at switch fer ya ‘n I’ll pick a real flimsy one that’ll leave a good mark.” Grumpy stands once again and shakes his finger at me.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I roll my eyes and turn my attention to Dr. Lenny who has been waiting patiently for us to finish our disagreement. By the amusement twinkling in her eyes, I think she enjoyed the show. Most of her attention goes to Grumpy, though. I’m not sure I like her attention on him. “Can I leave now?” She turns back to me.
“Not right this second, Taylor.” She chuckles. “We have a bit of paperwork to get done, but after that, you’ll be able to go home. Just sit tight for a bit longer.”
Syn pushes himself off the wall he was leaning on. “I’m going to go make a call and get an officer on your place, Taylor. I’ll need the address, though.”
I jot it down quickly on the pad of paper he holds out to me. He disappears through the door with his cell phone in hand. I may or may not have checked out his ass on his way out. It isn’t illegal to check out a hot man’s ass. I’ve watched enough episodes of Cops to know my rights.
“Taylor?” Marak waves a hand in front of my face.
I shake myself and give Marak my attention. “Huh?”
“I asked if you needed anything.” He smirks knowingly. If he saw me checking out Syn and mentions it in front of everyone, I’ll need the floor to open and swallow me. “Maybe something to eat?”
“Yeah, that’d be cool,” I mutter, dropping down onto the bed. “Thanks.”
“No problem. I’ll text Maverick with their selection when I get to the cafeteria, you can pick then.”
He heads for the door, but I stop him. “Why not just text me?”
He spins around. “I don’t have your number, silly girl.”
“Oh, right.” I grab my phone from its charger on the bedside table and press the power button while rattling the phone number off to Marak. “It’s charging, but there’s enough battery for it to turn on now, so you can text me if you want.”
Glancing up to be sure Marak heard me, I notice all the guys with their phones out. “Did you all just take my number?”
Maverick nods once, not looking away from his cell phone. “Just in case you need us, you can call us.”
My phone lights up to show it turned on fully before I have any time to think through how I feel about them having my number. Someone will probably share it with Syn also. Four hot men with access to my number and the ability to call or text me whenever they please. The idea brings butterflies to my stomach, but I push them away. They’re doing their job, nothing more. Of course, they aren’t going to sit there texting me about the latest movies or the weather.
“Okay, I texted you with my name, so you can put me in your phone,” Marak calls as he makes his way to the door. “I’ll text you with the selection in a few.”
Right on cue, my phone pings with a message. Then another. Then another. I drop the thing on my bed when it doesn’t stop pinging and vibrating. “Holy shit.”
“What in the hell’s wrong with yer phone, girl?” Grumpy stares down at the small device as if his signature knock it off glare will shut the thing up.
“I’m just loveable, I suppose.” Grumpy rolls his eyes, and I grin cheekily.
After a few more notification sounds, I pick the finally silent phone up and scroll through all of my messages and phone calls. Fifteen missed calls from Michelle, twenty from Evelyn, five from Dylan, forty-three from Grumpy, and seven from work. “Shit. Did anyone call my boss and explain why I wasn’t at work?”
“Yeah, I took care ‘a it fer ya.” Grumpy waves me off, picking up his newspaper again. “Ya still got yer borin’ ass, fancy pants job.”
“Gee, thanks.” I make a mental note to call work as soon as I get home. I need to be sure Grumpy didn’t scare them when he called, and I truly do have my job still. I notice two missed calls from Tim—I completely forgot about him and our date. Hopefully, someone at work filled him in so he doesn’t think I stood him up or quit my job and skipped town to avoid him. I’ll need to get in touch with him at some point, but he isn’t a priority.
My text message count proves worse than my missed calls. There’s easily over a hundred messages each from the girls and Grumpy. Dylan sent a good chunk of them as well, and one from Tim asking if I was alright.
A number I don’t recognize pops up as most recent, and I click on it. Marak’s name is the only content of the message, and I know it’s him sending me his number. While adding it to my contacts, I receive two other messages with Allistar’s and Maverick’s names. I add them quickly, then finish scrolling the miscellaneous messages from people who probably didn’t even know I was missing. The last message catches my attention, and I see red immediately. If steam could physically come out of my ears, it would right now.
“What in the holy fucking hell were you thinking?” I shout at Grumpy while jumping to my feet. “Are you insane? Have you completely lost all of your senses? What the actual fucking fuck, Grumpy!”
Maverick swoops in as I step toward Grumpy. He slides his hand around my waist and holds me in place. “Whoa, killer. Let’s not attack anyone today, okay?”
“Are you kidding me right now?” Spinning on my heel, I break Maverick’s hold on me and pin him with a glare. He remains undeterred, with a hand on my side as if ready to pull me back if I go after the old bastard again. “You don’t even know what he did. Where’s your gun? I’ll shoot him myself.”
“Oh, stop yer bitchin’, Tayter-Tot,” Grumpy huffs. He slams his newspaper down on the table and stands. “I’s worried ‘bout yer crazy ass. Sue me fer doin’ everythin’ in ma power ta try ‘n find ya. I called ‘er, I asked if she’d seen ya, ‘n that’s the end of it. She don’t know squat ‘bout nothin’ else, so calm yer tail down.”
“Anyone want to fill us in?” Allistar asks, raising his hand to gain our attention.
“No!” Grumpy and I yell to Allistar at the same time.
His eyes grow wide, and he drops his hand. “Okay, then.”
At the moment, my temper won’t allow me to calmly explain the situation to them. Instead, I drop the subject after one last glower to Grumpy. The logical side of my brain knows he only called her because he didn’t know what else to do when he couldn’t find me. I’d have done the same thing in his position, though I’d never admit that to him. The emotional side of me wants to smack him upside his stupid head for even thinking of calling her.
Debra Lewis isn’t the kind of mother to come running when something happens to her daughter. She would throw me off a cliff if it meant she would get paid in either money or drugs. She hasn’t always been as terrible as she is now. She played the role of mother when I was first born, though it didn’t even last a year. She willingly gave full custody to Grumpy and Grammy once they discovered her neglect. The older I got, the less involved she became. After Grammy died and left her with nothing, she snapped.
The little girl in me would like to think my kidnapping turned her around so she realizes what she missed out on while I was growing up. She would move back to our hometown and get involved in my life in a good and healthy way. She would stop drinking and using drugs. She would tell me she was proud of me and she loved me for the first time. But from the text she sent me, I know none of those things will ever happen. She’s as selfish and cold as ever, maybe even more so now.
Debra: Have you found yourself a rich man and run away with him? I won’t tell Dad if you did, it can be our secret. I sure miss my girl! Give your mama a call.
No question of my safety, no concern for me whatsoever. Her goal has always been and will always be to take, take, take. It’s no coincidence she asked if I found myself a rich man in the same text as telling me she supposedly misses me. Of course, I won’t answer her. She probably forgot all about Grumpy asking if she saw me and the text she sent by now. The message is dated four days ago, and if she hasn’t gotten the money for her next fix from me, she’s surely moved on to finding another source.
“Taylor?” Maverick calling my name breaks me free of my deep thoughts, and I look to him expectantly. He raises his cell phone and waves it slightly. “Marak said he texted you a list of options and hasn’t heard back. Did you get the text?”
When Maverick’s words click into place, I scoop up my phone. After reading the text from my mother, any thought of Marak and food flew out the window. Opening the screen, his name pops up with four unread messages. I scan them over and snort at the contents.
Marak: Okay, they have turkey, ham, or roast beef sandwiches. They have tuna also, but I don’t recommend that. I’m half sure it isn’t real fish.
Marak: If those sound shitty, they have salads. Caesar, chef, and the kind with dried fruit and nuts in it. I have no clue what that one is called. It looks decent, though.
Marak: I hope you’re not being silent because I said they have salad. I know chicks get really weird about that crap. If you want seven sandwiches, I’ll get you seven sandwiches. I don’t care what you eat.
Marak: Not that I don’t care, I do. I think you should eat a good healthy meal.
“Oh, god, men are so dumb sometimes.” I snicker as I type out a response to him. Maverick and Allistar share quizzical glances, but don’t ask me to elaborate.
Grumpy sulks while clutching his stupid newspaper. He won’t talk to me until he thinks I’ve had enough of the silent treatment, and I won’t talk to him until he speaks first.
Taylor: I’m highly offended by your insinuation I’m fat and need to eat a salad. How rude. That being said, I’ll take a turkey sandwich and a Diet Coke, please.
Roughly five minutes later, Marak walks into the room with his arms loaded with food and drinks. He sets the contents on the counter and spins to face me. “I didn’t mean it like that, I swear. It came out all wrong in the text.”
“Didn’t mean what?” Allistar raises a brow at Marak. “What’d you say?”
“He said I’m fat,” I answer. A little instigation never hurt anyone, right?
Maverick spins on his heel, facing Marak head on. I don’t have a view of Maverick’s face, but by the widening of Marak’s eyes and the step he takes backward, it can’t be good.
I scramble off the bed and pull on Maverick’s arm. He stiffens under my touch, but the second he spots me pulling on his arm, he relaxes. “I’m kidding, Maverick. He only thinks he called me fat, he didn’t really.”
“He... What?” He shakes his head slowly, his brow furrowing.
I hand him my phone, showing him the texts from Marak already pulled up on the screen. Maverick scans them quickly before barking out a surprised laugh. “Jesus, Marak. Sometimes you’re as bad as Syn.”
Marak frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you don’t know when to shut up,” Allistar elaborates while distractedly scanning the messages on my phone Maverick handed him.
“I resent that.” All heads turn to the doorway at Syn’s complaint. “I mean, I resemble it, too. But, mostly, I resent it. I can shut up sometimes, if I need to.”
Allistar rolls his eyes heavily. “You’re not helping yourself, Syn.”
While the men bicker back and forth, I grab my precious Diet Coke from where Marak dropped it on the counter. As an afterthought, I snatch up the wrapped turkey sandwich and sit down on the bed to dig in. While unwrapping the sandwich, I tune back into their conversation.
“Did you ensure someone will be sitting at Taylor’s house at all times until we find this guy?” Maverick’s tone is all business, and my spine stiffens as I wait for Syn’s response.
Syn picks up a bag of chips from Marak’s food pile and pops them open. “Yeah, they’ll have someone outside her place twenty-four seven.”
Maverick simply nods once, and the subject drops, which is perfect timing because the doctor enters the room thirty seconds later. She has a folder in her hands and excitement bubbles in my chest. The idea of being in my home makes sitting still nearly impossible, so I shift repeatedly in my seated position.
“Okay, Taylor, I have your discharge papers here.” She hands the packet to me, pointing out all the fine print and crap no one ever pays attention to. “There’s also a number here for some outpatient counseling if you find you need it. They have a wonderful team of counselors and therapists who will be available to help you and the other girls at any time. Do you have any questions for me?”
“Nope, I’m good.” I jump to my feet and wrap up my half-eaten sandwich. I’ll eat the rest in the car, on my way home.
Dr. Lenny chuckles. “Okay, dear. You’re free to go. Take care of yourself.”
“Thank you, doc.” I gather my things quickly as she strides to Grumpy.
She holds something out to him, and he takes it. “That’s my card. If you need anything or have any questions, call me.”
He blinks, dumbstruck and unable to speak. She giggles and exits the room. Holy shit, she hit on Grumpy. She’s quite a bit younger than him, I think, but she seems nice. Then again, this is Grumpy. He can’t date; That’d be too weird.
Pushing Dr. Lenny and Grumpy aside, I turn to the guys. The only bummer about leaving is the probability I’ll never see Marak, Allistar, Syn, or Maverick again.
Grumpy folds his newspaper under his arm and stands, stretching for a long moment. He grabs my bag and turns toward the guys. “Imma gonna get tha car ‘n bring it ‘round.” He doesn’t make eye contact with me when he speaks or even as he leaves the room, but I know his comment was made for me to hear. He’ll refuse to speak to me directly for a few more hours, probably. Stubborn ol’ bastard. Unfortunately, it means I can’t bug him about Dr. Lenny.
As soon as Grumpy exits the room, Marak speaks up, his eyes on the door Grumpy exited through. “He’s pretty mad, huh?”
“Not really.” I shrug, a smirk tugging at my lips. “He’s a stubborn ass, and he refuses to say he’s sorry when he’s wrong.”
Maverick tilts his head curiously to the side. “Do you say you’re sorry when you’re wrong?”
“I’m never wrong, so I don’t have to say I’m sorry.” The four of them laugh even though I was only sort of joking.
“Trish seems to like him.” Marak grins, and I wrinkle my nose. “Any thoughts on that?”
I shake my head hard. “Not even going there.”
Marak chuckles. “Fair enough. It’s a little odd.”
I shrug and change the subject. “I guess I should get downstairs to Grumpy before he gets any bitchier than he already is.” Everything I had with me went into my bag, so the only things I need to carry are my bottle of Diet Coke, my half eaten sandwich, and my phone and charger, which I shove into my pocket. “Thank you all, for everything. I’m glad I met you guys.”
“I’m sure we’ll see you again, Taylor.” Allistar frowns. “It’s not like we disappear into thin air the moment you walk out the door.”
While the thought of befriending the four, overly sexy men in front of me is thrilling, I halt my enthusiasm before it shows. Their job with me is done. There’s not a reason to come around anymore. They have more important and interesting things to occupy their time with.
Syn steps forward, wrapping his arms around me and hugging me tight to his body. The man smells like fresh rain during a summer storm, and I don’t want him to let me go. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
While pressed against him, words become too difficult to form, so I settle for a small nod. The rest of the guys say their goodbyes quickly and with a few quick side hugs. Although none of them hold me the same way Syn did, and I find myself somewhat disappointed. Maybe I should give Tim a call sooner rather than later. If throwing myself at these four seems like such a good idea, I might really need to get back into dating.
After I make my way to the car, Grumpy remains mute on the ride home, as do I. Part of me feels good about the two of us being back to our old antics. A larger part remains focused on the four hot men I left in the hospital room. If Evelyn was with me, she’d tell me to go out with one of them and have some fun. She isn’t shy about taking sexy men home or allowing sexy men to take her home. She likes fun and isn’t ashamed of it. Michelle, even before she was married, only looked for serious relationships. Her outlook on men and dating was, “If you don’t see yourself spending forever with the guy, why bother with him?”
My take on men and dating is complicated. I can appreciate a good-looking guy and dating can be fun, but men have a hard time keeping my interest. Maybe I’m too picky or high maintenance. While it’s hard for me to decide on what I want, I know what I don’t like and what I don’t want. It turns a lot of guys off for me to be straightforward about it.
Grumpy drops me off at my place, waiting for me to enter my apartment before he drives away. Everything in my apartment is as I left it when I went to work the day I was taken. Even my ladybug beetle sits idly in my driveway, mocking me with her lack of power. The only difference about going home is the cop car sitting on the opposite side of my street. The officer inside has a book in his hands, but on occasion, he glances up and scans his surroundings.
With nothing better to do, I sit on my loveseat and watch him for a while. He isn’t nearly as interesting as my SWAT men. Wait... mine? What the hell is wrong with me? The four of them were only doing their job by saving me and checking up on me. We don't even know each other, not really. Even their ages are a mystery to me. They probably all have girlfriends anyway, or wives; though, I might have glanced at a few ring fingers and found them bare. Grumpy never wears his wedding ring when he works on his garage building crap. Over the years he decided to put it on a chain and wears it around his neck instead. Maybe they don't wear theirs to work for safety reasons.
The fact that their relationship statuses interests me is annoying. Sure, they gave me their numbers, except for Syn. But only to use in case of emergencies. At least, I'm pretty sure that's why they did it. No other logical reason comes to mind.
Then, there's Tim. He and I still have a date to go on, and I can't bail on him, even if I sort of want to now. Tim is a great guy, and I don't want to hurt him or make things at work awkward by brushing him off. There’s nothing to lose by going out with him one time.
Mind made up, I grab my phone from the side table and pull up my messages with Tim.
Taylor: Hey, Tim. Some crazy things happened these past few weeks. I haven't been ignoring you, I promise. Maybe we could get a few drinks and talk?
Without thinking too hard about the message, I hit send. Hopefully, a date with Tim will help me forget all about the four sexy men who won't leave my mind.