No Shame: The Complete Series: Including exclusive bonus materials and deleted scenes Read online

  O’Connor scribbled down the name and number in a tiny notebook. “Can you describe the robber, Miss Baldwin?”

  “Call me Indy, Officer. He was a bit taller than the cashier, slender build.”

  “Any idea of his race?”

  “I’m sorry, Officer, I couldn’t see, what with that cliché ski mask on his face.”

  “Did you get a look at the gun?”

  “Magnum .45. I’m from the South where we hold the second amendment in high regard,” he explained when O’Connor looked surprised that a Southern lady could identify the weapon so easily.

  The cop nodded in appraisal. “How did he come across to you? Any idea of age?”

  “Young. His hands were shaky, for sure. He didn’t look like he had a whole lot of experience doing this. But you should be able to get that off the security footage as well.”

  The officer sighed. “Unfortunately, it looks like the camera directed at the register wasn’t working. We only have him entering and exiting the parking lot on foot.”

  “Well, color me stupid. Don’t tell me that asshole is going to get away with this.”

  Josh grinned, an irresistible smile that caused Indy’s heart to skip a beat.

  “What are you laughing at?” he asked good-naturedly.

  “You. You’ve got quite the mouth on you for a Southern Belle,” Josh answered, his grin stretching even wider.

  Indy merely lifted a brow at the double meaning of Josh's words, and it didn’t take long before Josh realized what he’d said. “That’s not what I meant. Fuck,” he stammered.

  Indy laughed. “Why, thank you kindly, sir. I told you my kissing skills were impressive.”

  Indy focused back on Officer O’Connor who stared at Josh with a strange expression. “Sorry, Officer, inside joke,” Indy said. For whatever reason, Josh had decided not to rat him out. Thank fuck.

  O’Connor almost imperceptibly shook his head, then refocused on Indy. He was gripping his notebook so hard his knuckles turned white. What the fuck was his problem?

  “How did you get hurt?” he asked Indy.

  Indy’s eyes flashed to Josh, and he gave a slight nod, still blushing fiercely from the unintended innuendo. “I had to take this kind gentleman down, as the robbery triggered a PTSD episode with him. He was panicking and would have gotten himself in harm’s way, had I not taken him to the floor.”

  The incredulous look O’Connor gave Indy was almost insulting. Fuck him for underestimating women. And short, scrawny guys in this case, though the cop didn’t know that.

  “You took him down,” O’Connor said.

  “I sure did, Officer. Would you care for a demonstration?” Indy’s tone was steel, covered in sugary sweet syrup.

  “Naw, that won’t be necessary. I was merely surprised that you could tackle him.”

  “She has a brown belt in Brazilian jiujitsu,” Josh said with audible pride that made Indy smile, even if he wouldn’t have divulged quite that much information to the cop himself.

  “You a vet?” O’Connor asked, his eyes trailing to the dog tags under Josh's shirt.

  “Yes, sir, Army.”

  “I was a Marine.”

  A look of understanding passed between the men that made Indy’s skin prickle. Both had seen more than they had ever wanted to. What was O’Connor’s story? There was more to the cop than was obvious at first glance.

  “How did you know what to do? How did you snap him out of it?” O’Connor asked.

  There was no way this was an official question. O’Connor wanted to know this on a personal level, but why would he be interested? Maybe he had friends who suffered from PTSD? Wasn’t a stretch, considering he was a former Marine.

  “I remembered from a TV series that you have to ground someone experiencing a PTSD episode, evoke multiple senses to make them aware of their surroundings. I talked to Josh, told him to smell my hair as I had just washed it, and tried to get him to focus on me. When that didn’t work, well, I saw no other option but to kiss him.”

  “You what?”

  “I kissed him. Taste and touch are such powerful senses and kissing evokes both. And my, my, it surely is a sweet distraction, isn’t it?” Indy said with a wink to Josh.

  “She’s got impressive kissing skills,” Josh confirmed, his ears fiery red. “And it worked. I’ve had worse ways of coming out of a panic attack.”

  O’Connor studied Josh for a second, and something Indy couldn’t identify flashed over his face. The cop almost seemed surprised by Josh's remark. O’Connor smiled, one of those polite gestures that didn’t reach his eyes. “I can imagine,” he said stiffly.

  “The ambulance is here,” Ralph shouted.

  O’Connor raised himself to his feet and extended a hand to Josh. Josh froze for a second, then slowly accepted it and let himself be pulled up. He kept his eyes aimed straight at the ground, avoiding the cop’s look. O’Connor seemed to wait for Josh to acknowledge him, but let go of his hand when Josh stayed mute.

  O’Connor frowned, then extended his hand to Indy. There was no way Indy was going to let the cop touch his hands, since all the hand treatments in the world couldn’t make them feminine enough. Besides, he felt like he’d been hit by a truck. Standing up was about the last thing he was interested in right now.

  “Sorry, Officer, I appreciate the offer, but I think it’s wise if I stay seated for now. I’m not feeling well.”

  “We’ll let the paramedics take care of you in that case. Thanks for your info, Indy. You’ve been helpful.”

  “You’re more than welcome…” Indy let his voice trail off, hoping O’Connor would supply him with his first name so he could check him out, find out if he was connected. The Fitzpatricks still had cops on their payroll, even if the family was nowhere near as powerful as it used to be.

  “Connor.”

  “Your name is Connor O’Connor?”

  “Nah, everybody calls me Connor.”

  “That begs the question as to your real name,” Indy said, acting playfully.

  “I don’t think it’s any of your concern,” O’Connor replied, his jaw setting.

  Indy bit back a laugh. Like the cop was any match for Indy’s stubbornness. He was a fucking pit bull once he wanted something.

  “Oh, I’m almost certain it’s something weird, like one of them new age names. Winter maybe, or Current. Or a made-up name. Or it’s something embarrassing, like—”

  “Ignatius, all right? My official name is Ignatius.”

  No sir, he wasn't happy with him. But at least Indy had his full name. That made things a hell of a lot easier. “I am so sorry to hear that, as that name must’ve gotten the living daylights beaten out of you in school. No wonder you went with Connor. It suits you.”

  A look of pure shock was followed by an amused smile in the cop’s eyes. “You don’t have much of a filter, do you?”

  Indy smiled, satisfied he’d managed to keep up his front. “No, sir, not according to my momma, I don’t. Good luck on the rest of your shift, Officer. Stay safe.”

  O’Connor nodded, then took a step back as he turned to Josh. His expression changed to neutral as he extended his hand. “Hang in there, Josh.”

  Josh was a good inch taller than O’Connor, but the cop still dwarfed him because of his size. Josh took his hand but kept his gaze glued to the floor. O’Connor seemed to wait for Josh to look up, but gave up after a few seconds. With one last look at Josh—who was still avoiding the cop’s eyes like the plague—O’Connor left. Josh didn’t raise his head until the cop walked away, apparently still a bit sluggish, because he kept staring at O’Connor until he walked out of sight.

  Indy blinked a few times. Was his vision getting more blurry? One thing was certain, the first thing he was gonna ask for in the ER was the mother of all painkillers. The incessant pounding in his head was killing him, and his ribs hurt like a motherfucker with every shallow breath he drew in.

  “Tell those paramedics to get a rush on,” Indy said.
God, his voice sounded weird. Distant. “I’m not feeling well.”

  He sagged back farther against the shelves, unable to hold himself up. A stabbing pain tore through his head, then everything went black.

  3

  Screaming sirens dragged Indy out of the deep, cold black. He fought to open his eyes.

  Too dizzy. Too much pain. Too tired.

  Did they drug him?

  God, he was so fucking helpless unconscious.

  The black sucked him right back under.

  Sudden silence shocked him awake. Doors opened. Rattling sounds. His body jolted even though he was restrained in some way. What the hell?

  Still too far gone to stay awake.

  Damn it.

  More darkness.

  A steady rhythm of bleeps. The wicked pounding in his head was so blinding he didn’t even consider opening his eyes. His left arm was tied to something, preventing him from moving it, while his right arm had a sort of band around his biceps. His left index finger was compressed in cold, plastic pressure.

  Where the hell was he?

  His heartbeat accelerated, and adrenaline rushed though his veins. What the fuck had happened? Why was he tied down? Had they found him?

  No, no, no…what would they do to him this time?

  They wouldn’t let him survive, not after what he’d done. His mouth filled with acid, and his back flared, remembering. Horrific pain, the smell of burning flesh. Their laughs as he was dying.

  “She’s waking up,” a female voice announced. “Her pulse is spiking.”

  “Indy?” a warm, male voice spoke. “Indy, are you awake? Don’t panic, you’re okay.”

  He opened his eyes out of reflex, but blinding lights stabbed his head so fiercely his stomach rolled. He dry heaved, pinching his eyes shut again. A warm, strong hand touched his left arm. He recoiled on instinct, his heart rate speeding up even further.

  What will they do to me? God, help me.

  “Don’t fucking touch me!” His voice was raw, hoarse.

  The hand disappeared immediately as Indy instinctively brought both his arms up in a defensive position. His right arm came up, though he could still feel the weight of the cast and that weird band around his biceps, but his left arm was restricted in some way. He jerked it again.

  He was tied down. Fuck. He had to get out of here.

  Fight, he told himself, forcing his will to push through his muddy brain. Fight your way out of this. You’ve done it before.

  God, everything hurt. His head, his chest, his arms, his whole body. What the fuck had happened to him?

  “Untie me…” he demanded.

  He clawed at whatever was restraining his arm, unsuccessfully trying to rip it off. The panic was rising in his throat, his stomach, his lungs. He couldn’t breathe, his heart hammering in his chest.

  “Get this fucking thing off of me. Let me go!”

  He screamed, fought, yanked at cords he couldn’t see.

  “Everybody out,” the male voice ordered in a tone that demanded immediate obedience. “Get Josh in here.”

  Footsteps as people left the room. A door opened and closed. Quiet footsteps came closer. Indy let out a groan of frustration when he couldn’t get whatever was restraining his arm off. Why did everything hurt so fucking much?

  “Josh, talk to her. Maybe she’ll remember your voice.”

  “Indy, you’re okay. You’re in the ER. Remember the robbery? You took care of me, but you hit your head, and you blacked out.”

  Indy stopped fighting when the sweet, timid voice hit him. It sounded awfully familiar. He knew this voice, this guy.

  A wave of memories hit. Shopping at Stewart’s. Patriot Guy. The robbery. Josh. He’d called an ambulance, said his friend worked in the ER. That’s where he was, the ER.

  He sniffed, his nose tickling with the familiar cocktail of antibacterial hand sanitizer, the strong detergent used on the bed linens, and the cleaning disinfectant. For fuck’s sake, he’d spent enough time in a hospital to recognize it.

  “Indy, my name is Noah Flint. I’m a friend of Josh, and I work here as a physician assistant.”

  It was the male voice, the authoritative one. Indy flinched, his entire body still on high alert. The adrenaline pulsated through his system, like he’d thrown back three energy drinks.

  “I’m going to take the blood pressure cuff off of your right arm, since it bothers you, okay? You also have an IV in your left wrist and there’s a heart rate monitor on your index finger. Are you okay with those, or do you want me to take them off?”

  “Off.”

  “Okay. To do that, I need to touch you. Is that okay?”

  Indy grunted his consent. Warm hands gently removed whatever was around his arm, barely touching him. The pressure on his index finger disappeared. The room quieted as the bleeps stopped their insane racket, and his own ragged breathing was all that was left. He forced himself to relax, to slow his heart rate down. He was okay and nobody was attacking him.

  “Indy, I’d prefer if the IV could stay in, since you may need meds later. I can unhook it from the pole for now so you can move your arm more. Would that help?”

  “Okay.”

  He didn’t trust himself to say more than that, knowing he didn’t have it in him to play his role right now. Shit, how badly had he fucked up? He’d dropped his accent. They knew he was a guy even though they kept referring to him as a she. Would they ask questions?

  “Josh, can you hit the lights? Indy, I’m dimming the lights for you, okay? Josh told me you hit your head hard, and it seems like the bright lights are bothering you. Let your eyes adjust and then you can open them if you want. We’ll wait till you’re ready.”

  The man’s calm voice steadied Indy. It drew him in like a beacon, a lighthouse promising a safe harbor.

  He released a quiet exhale when the bright lights went out. They’d irritated his head even with his eyes closed.

  “Better?”

  “Yah.”

  They waited patiently until he was ready to open his eyes. Indy slowly blinked. His head still pounded like a jackhammer, but the relative darkness in the room helped. It was still light enough to see the two guys standing elbow to elbow at the foot of his bed. Josh was looking at him with concern, but it was the guy next to him that made Indy blink again.

  He was younger than Indy had expected, with a serious, hard face. His dark blue scrubs seemed to be a tad tight for his powerful chest and arms, and he stood a few inches shorter than Josh. He had short, blond hair and looked like he hadn’t seen the sharp end of a razor in a couple of days.

  “Hi,” Indy said gamely, drawing out the sound.

  “You okay now?” Noah asked, not sporting the impatience or irritation Indy had expected. If anything, he looked curious, which was not good, because it would trigger questions Indy had no intention of answering.

  “Yeah, I’m good.”

  “Do you remember what happened?”

  “Had to take Patriot Guy down and smashed my head into the floor. And I may have cracked my arm. Again.”

  “Patriot Guy?” Josh asked.

  Indy sighed. “I had to call you something, since I didn’t know your name.”

  “I’ve had worse nicknames,” Josh said with a soft smile on his lips.

  “Can you tell me where it hurts?” Noah asked.

  Indy closed his eyes, mentally scanning his body as he’d done countless times after Duncan had done a number on him. “My head. Feels like a concussion. And my right arm may have sustained some more damage. You may want to run an X-ray.” His accent was back. Thank fuck. Though it was probably too little, too late. He opened his eyes again, wincing as even that small move triggered a fierce pulse of pain behind his eyes.

  “Are you telling me how to do my job?” Noah asked, amusement lacing his voice.

  He had a nice voice. Warm and reassuring. Wait, he’d already thought that before, hadn’t he? And the man had asked him a question. Fuck, thinking was hard
when your brain had been replaced by cotton balls.

  “Just a suggestion. I’ve been here before, so I know the drill,” he explained.

  Light and easy, that was his way out. Noah had seen him panic, so he’d know that Indy had some kind of trauma in his past. Hopefully he could prevent the PA from running any more scans because they would definitely raise questions.

  “Are you okay with me examining you? We can take as much time as you need. You can call me Noah, by the way.”

  Indy studied the physician assistant who observed him back with quiet patience, standing so close to Josh their bodies were touching. He had an interesting build, Indy mused, with an incredible upper body but relatively lean legs. Indy’s eyes fell on a silver chain around his neck. The same bulleted chain that Josh was wearing. Dog tags. That must be how they know each other. Army buddies.

  He made a decision. “Okay.”

  Noah nodded. “Can I ask a nurse to help?”

  “Yah. Yes,” he corrected. Deep South, not Boston.

  “Josh, you need to step out now. Can you ask Jessie to come back? Indy, is there anyone we can call for you?”

  “Josh can stay,” Indy said. He’d subtly ignored Noah’s question. Hopefully, the guy would get the hint and drop it.

  “No, he can’t. No relatives or friends in the exam rooms. Josh knows. He can wait in the waiting room.”

  “You’re bossy,” Indy complained. The quicker he slipped back into the slightly flirty Southern Belle persona, the faster everyone would forget he’d been acting all weird.

  “It takes one to know one,” was Noah’s fast reply.

  Josh chuckled, elbowing Noah in an affectionate gesture. He shot Indy a reassuring glance. “Trust me, Noah knows his shit. You’ll be fine.”

  “He’d better know his shit, ‘cause I wanna get the fuck outta here. I fucking hate hospitals.”

  Oops. Not exactly Southern Belle language.

  Josh laughed out loud as he made his way to the door. “Told you she had a mouth on her.”

  “You’re talking about my kissing skills, right?” Indy asked, his voice light and teasing.