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He froze. The scarab. Where was the scarab?
He reached for the IV in his hand, intending to rip it out to ease his escape. Hopefully, with Big ‘n’ Sexy’s help.
The door burst open and a young man with dark hair marched in and pointed at him. “Don’t you dare rip that IV out! I swear to God I will bury that needle in your ass if you do.”
Max froze for a second time. Was this the doctor?
“Your captors allowed you to become severely dehydrated. I’m giving you fluids intravenously.”
“Well, all those fluids are now sitting in my bladder and need to come out again,” Max snapped.
The doctor didn’t look impressed. “Can you wait for me to take that out, or do you want to take it all with you? Or I can bring you a bottle?”
It wasn’t much of a decision. He didn’t want to wait, and he preferred some privacy. Besides, the stand would help steady him on his feet. “Let’s go with option two.”
The doctor turned toward Big ‘n’ Sexy. “Can you help him?”
He nodded and smiled at Max. “I’ve got it. No problem.”
Max hesitated, but what was the point? He’d trusted the guy minutes earlier to help him get out of this place. Why not help him to the bathroom? He placed his right hand in the stranger’s hand while grabbing the IV stand with his left. A groan escaped him as he pushed to his feet. He swayed. The pain wasn’t bad, but his head was still foggy.
“You okay, Dr. Sutton? Need me to carry you?”
Max jerked up at the use of his name, his mouth falling open. “You know my name.”
The savior grinned. “We talked to Dr. Janet Jones, and she told us about you and your work.”
“I have questions—”
“We all have a lot of questions,” the doctor grumbled on the other side of him. “Bathroom first, then answers to all the questions.”
Okay, that was a good point. His bladder was going to explode, and he was going to ruin these very soft pants. He shuffled off, the large man helping him along.
Thankfully, a small bathroom with white octagonal tiles was directly across from his bedroom. This room was mint green and had a white pedestal sink and a tiny shower that his companion probably couldn’t even fit in.
“Do you need any more help?”
Max shook his head. “No, I think I’ve got it from here.”
“Okay. I’ll wait in the hall. If you need my help, just shout for me.”
“Shout what?” Max asked with a wry laugh. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Edison Walker, but all my friends call me Ed. Though you can keep calling me Big ‘n’ Sexy.”
Max’s mouth fell open, and his cheeks were now on fire. Had he said that in front of the guy? Had to have. Fantastic. Certainly not the most embarrassing thing he’d ever said, but whatever. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pointed to the door. “Go, please. I’ve obviously said enough.”
“Dr. Sutton?”
Max opened his eyes to see the flirty smirk was now gone from Ed’s face and he was very serious. “You don’t need to worry anymore. We’re going to keep you safe.”
Ed slipped out into the hall, shutting the door behind him. Max barely caught the edge of the sink as support as his legs attempted to give out beneath him. He wanted to chalk it up to exhaustion or that his body was still healing, but he knew better. Protection. After too many days, weeks, of running and hurting, there was someone who’d finally jumped in and said “Enough.” Someone willing to hold the line and say, “No more.”
And fuck if Ed didn’t look like he could hold that line.
Max almost snorted at his own line of thought. Protection was always nice, but what was the price of that protection? No one did anything for free. Fuck it. He’d figure all that shit out later. Right now, these people had bought him time to get on his feet, which also allowed him to think of a way out of this mess.
After relieving his poor bladder and splashing some water on his face, Max grabbed the IV rolling stand and shuffled his way to the door. Ed was waiting in the hall as he’d said and took him by the elbow, making sure he was steady as he returned to the bedroom.
When he eased into the bed, he was panting and had a light coating of sweat on him. Dear God, what kind of shape was he in?
“Who are you people?” Max asked breathlessly.
The man who’d threatened him pulled over a chair and set it down by the bed. “I’m Dr. William Monroe, but you can call me Will. I’m the one who bathed you and saw to your injuries. The man hovering by your bedside, you should remember a little.”
