The Cardinal Bird - Book 1: Reverse Harem Series (The Cardinal Series) Page 22

  Dr. Scott assured him that clothes were on the way, two minutes--tops.

  The room fell silent, Agent Grinley huffing and grumbling, his partner silent and still, Brock still flanking and fuming, Karl propped against the wall and texting urgently, Dr. Harper checking me over for any last-minute prognoses, and Dr. Scott multitasking between texting someone on his phone and winking and smiling a one-sided smile, flashing those perfect teeth at me every time he caught my eye.

  Twelve minutes of that fun later, my salvation came in the form of a smooth, quiet force that threw the door open without knocking. His entrance actually knocked the door into the large agent, though it didn't budge the big guy one bit. The new arrival gave the man a glare, not the least bit intimidated though he had to be half his size.

  His hair was sleek dark brown, styled long and to one side and short in the back. He had thin, arched eyebrows. His ears, nose, and lip were pierced, and his deep cobalt-blue eyes were captivating. His voice was much deeper than his body implied it could be, and it was soothing and melodic—aristocratic almost.

  "If you’ll move. I'm here with her clothes," he drawled out, not waiting for a response. He stepped forward, his dark blue eyes already moving on as if the large man had been dismissed. When the giant agent realized that the newcomer wasn’t going to stop, he took a quick step out of the way.

  The new guy stepped around and took in the room at large before his eyes landed on me.

  I got a good look at the black outfit I had only caught glimpses of before. He was wearing black, head to toe, from the long-sleeved t-shirt with some band logo to the ripped skinny jeans.

  “Hello,” he said in a smooth voice. “I apologize for the wait. I was in the middle of something when Doc texted me.”

  Smiling crookedly, Dr. Scott slowly put his hands up in a placating manner, obviously very familiar with the man and his personality. The newcomer didn’t actually seem that put-out by it though.

  Grinley, beyond frustrated, said, "You were supposed to only take two minutes!"

  "Two minutes?!” the newcomer’s eyes slowly narrowed in on the irate agent. One of his eyebrows arched up. “This girl,” he said, gesturing forcefully at where I lay wide-eyed. “Has been through figurative and literal hell in the last three weeks. As I hear it, she was shot, starved, and left to drown in a tank of filth. It was a despicable showcase of how depraved humanity has grown. And now, here you are, trying to bully her around some more while she is still under medical advisement to remain here in this hospital. If you continue as you are, I’ll have you brought up on the abuse of authority, conduct unbecoming of an agent of the government, and unlawful assembly in an attempt to kidnap a high-status witness.”

  Agent Grinley had a snarl on his face. “Your dad a cop or something?”

  “Cop? No. But we do know several cops, including some of the ones I greeted on the way in here.”

  Grinley’s frown deepened. “So? Do you really think knowing some cops will save her?”

  “No,” the newcomer said, not seeming threatened in the slightest. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through some contacts. “But reporting you to your supervisor, Ms. Bailey Nash? That might. As it so happens, Bailey was over at my parents’ mansion last week for dinner. It was a delightful repast with a sumptuous menu. Personally, I don’t mind a good, old hamburger or steak, but if the Deputy Director of the NCS wants calamari, well, my parents always like to aim to please.”

  Grinley’s face paled a bit.

  Newcomer stepped up close to Grinley, looking down at him, his eyes a raging ocean. “I don’t like you.” With that, he approached the bed, his eyes scanning me. “I’ve brought you some clothes. Don’t worry about what Agent Grinley said. If you would prefer some time to shower before you dress, you may do so.”

  Grinley coughed but didn’t say anything to object.

  It didn’t bother the new guy as he held up a large shopping bag with a designer logo on it. "I'm Bryce by the way. Bryce Rost. My mother would be horrified at my lack of decorum. I would’ve introduced myself sooner, but, well...I was distracted a bit." He met my eyes and there was a flash of amusement in them. “You won’t tell her, will you?”

  My eyes widened, and I shook my head fast. He smiled a small, polished smile at my response.

  I went to say my name, but then I remembered that I had been determined to not say my name. "Nice to meet you."

  Bryce tilted his head just a little bit as he studied me, his eyes that startling shade of dark, cobalt blue that made my breath hitch. He seemed to understand that he had missed something important and didn’t press me for my own name. "You were off on her size, Doc. Everything the sales lady picked out will be too big. Even though I gave her a range of sizes below and above what you gave."

  Dr. Scott sent me another one of his heart-stopping, crooked smiles. His dark, ebony eyes locked onto me with intensity. "Maybe it was just my wishful thinking about her getting back to a healthy weight."

  I was starting to understand that if I didn't want to be blushing constantly around the doctor, it would be best to ignore, avoid eye contact, and tune him out—which was a lot easier said than done.

  "Yes, well, your wishful thinking won’t prevent her pants from falling to the ground, now will it?" Bryce turned to me, starting to look through the bag. “Do you have a favorite color? I’ll see if it’s in here.”

  It took me a few embarrassing seconds to realize that the question had been directed at me. I almost went to say that it was black. Black was pretty much the only thing I had been allowed to wear unless there was a specific reason not to. It was easier to blend in with colors that were neutral and black was the best at hiding any blood or dirt or whatever else might get on it.

  But I was Free-Callie now. Free-Callie was determined. Did she really still need to blend in as well? Karl said they'd try to throw me in a cell to be forgotten. I didn’t want to be a person easily forgotten. I pushed my bottom lip in, debating.

  "Pink," I said, resolute in my heavy decision. It felt like turning a new leaf, starting a new school, wiping the slate clean. It felt like much more than just a clothing choice. I nodded to myself once more, confident I had made the right choice and looked up.

  Bryce had been staring at me, and I got the strangest feeling that he knew my decision wasn't just about a clothing choice. He gave me another small smile that pulled a matching, tentative smile from myself. He coughed a bit and cleared his throat, looking back down to search through the clothes. "A nice choice,” he hummed. Then a frown stole across his face. “Unfortunately, the sales lady didn’t add any pink things, but I'll stock up for the future. How about coral instead?"

  He held up an item that looked pink to me. Maybe a mix between pink and orange? Really, it looked pink. I nodded my head.

  Brock snorted. “You’re such a color-snob, Bryce. That’s fucking pink.”

  Bryce shot him an arched look and drawled, “I didn’t take hours upon hours of fine arts classes at my mother’s behest to not use it. It’s coral.” He put said ‘coral’ item on the hospital bed next to me. "Alright, now let's see..." he trailed off. He turned to address the room at large, an eyebrow raised. "Are you really going to stand there gawking at her like free entertainment?” he shook his head, raising a hand before they could respond. “Don't answer that. I’ll help her out. The rest of you, leave."

  Surprisingly, Brock seemed to be ready to leave without putting up much of a fuss. Was Bryce part of Brock’s team? Brock had seemed pretty comfortable calling Bryce a color-snob less than five minutes after said guy effectively and efficiently dressed down a federal agent of the United States.

  Agent Grinley gave the most hassle, but even he caved when Bryce sent him a glare. "You have five minutes before I come in and get her, no matter what state of dress or undress she is in."

  The large agent with him just pulled Grinley out before he could say anything more that would make Bryce take civil action against him. The room nearly cleared out instantly once they were gone.

  "My name's Callie," I whispered, toning my voice down in the sudden silence.

  Chapter 20

  Callie," Bryce nodded his head as if mentally sounding it out. He was probably oblivious of my reaction to the way his melodic voice said my name, drawing it out until it sounded foreign and exotic like the beginning of a captivating song. "Alright Callie," he tilted his head, studying me. "They've done a good job with your sponge baths, but they can't really wash the hair that way, so we're going to do that first."

  I tried not to focus on the fact that this man was talking about sponge baths with me. It might make my head explode. "Um...but Agent Grinley said--"

  "That man, for lack of a more polite term, can certainly try to get past that door," he pointed back to said door. "But I guarantee that he won't make it."

  I licked my dry, cracked lips, fiddling with my hair. I really didn't want to be caught in a state of undress and marched out of the hospital that way. Agent Grinley had seemed deadly serious at the threat. Besides, it didn't matter how I looked if what Karl had said was true. I was going to be interrogated. It wasn't like I would care about my appearance then. "B-but--"

  "No buts," he said. "I don't know if you’re aware, but you've got at least twenty Delta people out there. And not just out there because this is the Delta hospital, but out there watching over your door. Every single person that went overseas to get you or helped out with the mission is smitten with you."

  More about this illustrious Delta organization. I was trying to piece together an idea about it in my mind. It sounded like it was a government organization. However, it was so secret that Agent Grinley had seemed oblivious of it, or at least he hadn’t mentioned it if he knew that this hospital belonged to a government organization. I wanted to ask, but Bryce was already continuing.

  "Somehow, you've got them wrapped around your petite fingers. The seasoned Henley team, who as far as I know only really knew you while you were unconscious, Jace’s team, my team, of course...even the Princesses are out there just because they were debriefed on the mission to go get you. They've never even seen you. But just the same...and why not?" His cobalt blue eyes met mine. “Even I find myself fascinated by you. And I’m a hard person to impress.”

  My eyes got big at the compliment. I tried to deflect. "Princesses?"

  He took my hand in his, tying something around it that I instantly recognized: Kaz's bracelet. I didn't even notice it was missing. Too much had happened. I had to wonder if Bryce truly recognized the weight of the action because he did it with such nonchalance as he continued to talk casually. "Yeah, they're one of our international teams. We call them the Cardinals, not sure why cardinals, but I know it's because they speak a lot of languages. Everyone at Delta calls them the princesses because they all look like Disney characters."

  So, not actual princesses. I fingered the rough twine of Kaz’s bracelet, staring at it thoughtfully. All of the information that Bryce was unwittingly sharing with me about Delta was somewhat of an overload. There wasn't anything that couldn't be on the table at this point, including team members being real-life princesses.

  "But look at me, spilling information you probably don’t even care about."

  I let out a tick of disapproval, accusation, and amusement. "You’re stalling. You just want to try Agent Grinley's patience."

  He smiled a small smile. "He’d have to have patience in the first place to be able to test it. Come on, let's get you in the bathroom."

  He helped me sit up. It hurt to move again, but once I got moving, it was a lot easier to manage. My feet padded across the cold, polished tiles into the bathroom. Bryce gave me some privacy to use the restroom. He told me to take as long as I needed and warned that if I was out of there before at least ten minutes, he’d come in and wash my hair himself.

  That had me blushing and willing to obey.

  I knocked after I'd finished in the shower and donned the gown once more, and Bryce opened the door gently. He had the pink—sorry—coral top in his hands along with something white.

  His dark blue eyes ran up and down my form as if making sure that I’d not rushed as requested. “That was fast,” he said.

  "Ya," I said, shuffling back and forth. I felt incredibly vulnerable in nothing but the gown while he was fully dressed. In the room with everyone else, the only person he had been taller than was Grinley. Shut in this small space with him, it was painfully obvious that he was still very tall and muscular, especially compared to me. “I’m used to short showers.”

  "Fair enough," he said evenly. He approached, and I inhaled the scent of sweet, minty tea leaves.

  “What’s your favorite color?” I asked impulsively, wanting to learn more about him.

  Bryce raised an eyebrow at me before his eyes went to his clothes, head to toe black.

  “Oh,” I said. “Black.”

  “No,” Bryce said, smiling a small smile. “I’m just giving you a hard time. My favorite color is maroon, actually. I just dress like this because it’s practically a requirement when you play the guitar. And also because my mother pretends that it bothers her.”

  “Pretends?”

  He smiled, showing teeth this time as he got a fond look on his face. “She knows that I do it to annoy her, so she’s more amused by my ‘antics’ as she calls them. Father’s ready for me to grow out of my rebellious stage and be more of the upper-class young man that they raised me to be, but Mother enjoys it.”

  “They sound like an interesting pair.”

  “Oh, that’s putting it mildly,” he said with more of that warm affection.

  I thought for a moment about what it would be like to be raised by his parent. I imagined a stern father-figure that indulged in the mischievous antics of his wife.

  “Anyway, I apologize if you don’t like the clothes. My sense of style only extends to couture names and men’s styles, I’m afraid. I’d have to get Mother here if you wanted some good advice. However, this was the only thing close to pink in the bag, and--thanks to Doc’s misinformation—these leggings are the only things that might stay up on your hips.”

  He pulled a hairbrush out of the bag. “Now, before you get dressed, turn around. I’ll brush your hair.”

  My face lit up in a blush. “Oh, you don’t have to--”

  He didn’t even wait for me to finish. He just held up a hand and spoke in a voice that brooked no room for argument. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind, and I’m not half-bad. Mother has always loved it when someone brushed her hair and used to have me brush her hair all the time when I was little. And since Doc said that you shouldn’t strain your arms too much yet because you’re healing so many injuries, you’re stuck with me.”

  He sectioned my knotted hair off into more manageable sections and then started from the bottom, working his way up. He was gentle and cognizant of any pulls or pressure he was putting on the roots.

  It was heavenly. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had brushed my hair for me. It had to be when I was younger. Back when my mother still loved me.

  I groaned a little at the feel of the bristles massaging my scalp each time he dragged the brush through the roots. Bryce stopped for a second and then carried on. It was almost imperceptible, but it felt too good not to notice when he’d stopped, even if for a fraction of a second. I thought about asking him about it but decided against it in the end.

  A fist on the outer door shook me out of whatever trance I’d been in. Surprisingly, Bryce had seemed just as distracted as I had.

  He cleared his throat and put a bundle of clothes in my hand and pushed the bathroom door closed behind him.

  I donned the outfit complete with mortifyingly accurate underthings--not thinking about it--a loose pink-ish tunic that draped down over white leggings and finished up with some white flats. It was surprisingly comfy and effortlessly gorgeous. Paired with my freshly-brushed hair and my face all healed, I almost couldn't recognize the girl staring back at me.