Chapter 3
Thank goodness it’d been a slow day in the ER at Atlanta General Hospital. All that remained was the tedious paperwork required at the end of every shift and he’d almost completed that task. Zachary’s head throbbed as if he had a hangover, but a puppy-over would be closer to the truth. Last night, one of the longest nights of his life, led to him learning a valuable life lesson—no matter how tiny the animal was, they could still make a hell of a lot of noise. He’d probably slept a total of one hour, in scattered fifteen minute intervals. If lying awake and listening to puppies’ whimpers and whines were his only problem, he could probably have bounced into his day without much trouble. It was more than that, though.
While wide awake, his mind had conjured images John: John in the sexy getup he’d been wearing last night; John sending him one of his shy smiles as they shared the same elevator—shy smiles he always promptly ignored, of course; John looking totally lost and alone at the gym, surrounded by other people who never spoke to him; John’s blue eyes lighting up with pure happiness when he would ignore Zach’s glares and pet Denala.
John opening his apartment door to the countless men.
Fuck, now he was not only exhausted, but the way his head ached and his face hurt led him to suspect his blood pressure had shot off the charts. He got pissed every time he thought about those men being anywhere near John. Connor was right; they weren’t fucking him for money, but they sure as hell weren’t over there playing innocent board games. No, there was sex involved. Wicked sex. Naughty sex. Dirty sex. Sex requiring costumes.
Now, he could add horny to the fuck-up-Zach’s-day list. The idea of bar-hopping with Connor had a groan rising in his chest, even if that was exactly what he needed—to get laid. A dirty fuck where the only thing he worried about was busting a nut. That would get John out of his head.
He signed his name to the last of the paperwork and silently reprimanded himself for being such an idiot. He wasn’t fooling anybody; he couldn’t get John out of his head. He could either move or learn to live his life sporting a hard-on for someone who could never be his.
Why can’t he be yours? Why in the hell not?
He gave the annoying and impatient voice inside his head the age-old answer all parents used. Because.
With more effort than it should have taken, he plastered on a fake smile and handed the paperwork over to the nurse manning the ER’s nursing station. “That’s it for me, Lydia. I’ll see you guys in two weeks.” Thank goodness his name was only on the ER rotation for every other Saturday. He worked the hospital daily, but managed to dodge the hustle and bustle of the ER for the most part.
Lydia glanced up at the clock and winced. “Wow. This shift has flown by. We hit the floor running this morning, and it never slowed down, did it?” She smiled at him. “I’m pulling a double. Pray for me.” She took his paperwork and started going over it immediately. It was her responsibility to disseminate the physician’s orders to the nurses on duty. “Have a good one, Dr. Meadows.”
Just as he turned to leave, the man next to Lydia hung up the phone and called his name. Zach struggled to remember the man’s name. Thomas! That was it. Thomas Banks. Give Zach a prize, being practically brain dead didn’t hamper his memory.
“Yes, Thomas? What can I do for you?” He looked at Thomas with what he hoped was a friendly face, because what he’d wanted to ask was ‘what in the fuck do you need.’ Exhaustion made him grouchy.
The guy’s eyes flickered down and then back up to him. “Oh, it’s Trey, Sir.” Then he shook his head and added, “That’s not important, though. I shouldn’t have corrected you. I’m sorry.”
Shit. Was he that big of an asshole? He didn’t think so. If he was, he needed to have his ass handed to him in a pretty pink bag. “Yes, you should have, Trey. I’m tired but that’s no excuse to call somebody by the wrong name. I’m the one who needs to apologize. Sorry about that. Now, what can I do for you?” This time he meant it, because he felt like an ass.
“Uh…okay…yeah.”
Zach waited and then nodded for him to continue.
“Oh! Right,” Trey said quickly. “Didn’t you move into the Peachtree Heights apartment complex a few months back?”
He paused, wondering where this was going. “Yes. Why?”
“The EMTs are bringing somebody in from your building. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to stay.” He blushed and shrugged. “You know, in case you know them.” Suddenly nervous again, Trey looked down at his notes and started studying them like they held the cure for cancer and recipe for world peace. “He must not be carrying any identification. All they gave me was a twenty-two-year-old male with the name listed as John Doe.” He gave another shrug. “Weird. They know his age but not his name.”
The ground shifted beneath Zach. It couldn’t be. His name couldn’t be John Doe. That would be beyond ridiculous. It didn’t matter, though. In his head, alarms bells rang loud enough to wake the dead.
His apartment complex.
John.
Twenty-two years old.
Zach wasn’t taking a chance. He’d see for himself. “What’s the injury, Trey?”
“Head wound.” He shifted through the paperwork. “It doesn’t really say what type of head wound—just heavy bleeding and patient is unconscious.”
It didn’t make one bit of sense given their relationship…or lack of relationship, but he couldn’t deny the fear causing his heart to seize. Of course, none of his feelings about John contained one shred of logic. He disliked him for no good reason whatsoever, but also liked him a hell of a lot more than he should. Could you dislike and like someone at the same time? Never in his life had he been so physically attracted to another man. Ever.
“I think I’ll wait around,” he told Lydia and Trey. “I’m sure Dr. Stevens won’t mind the help.” They were always short-staffed, and though he’d been exhausted moments before, the unwarranted adrenaline rush of hearing his John might be injured gave him new energy.
Fuck, when did John become his?
He was being ridiculous anyway. There was no way it was his neighbor. They had the best security in Atlanta, and since John never seemed to leave the building, he had to be perfectly safe…doing whatever in the hell he did every damned day. No, Zach was wasting his time. He could already be in his car and weaving his way through the parking garage.
Would he look like an ass if he went ahead and left? Even after he’d told them he would stay? Yeah, that would be almost as bad as forgetting Trey’s name. He had to work on that shit. The last thing he wanted was to be like the majority of the doctors he worked with on a daily basis. They all seemed to suffer from an acute case of I’m-a-god syndrome, which led to their reputation as arrogant pricks. He didn’t have a problem with arrogance, but he hated the whole prick thing. More often than not, he wanted to punch most of them right in their faces. He refrained, but he damned well wanted to.
The double doors of the emergency room slid open and the EMTs came bursting through, pushing the gurney while applying pressure to stem the blood still flowing from an open wound on the patient’s forehead. From the amount of blood on the sterile white sheets, they weren’t having a lot of success. Head wounds often bled heavily; he didn’t feel a need to panic. With a cool confidence, he strode toward an open cubicle and motioned for them to wheel the patient inside.
“Right here, Wayne. I’m staying over to help Dr. Stevens.” He liked Wayne. The burly guy was not only hot, but a damned good EMT. He took his job seriously, and from everything Zach had seen, he treated everybody with respect. “Tell me what we’ve got.”
He glanced down at the patient and went from cool professional to terrified onlooker in zero point one seconds. John. His beautiful neighbor lay on the gurney with a deathly pale face coated in crimson blood, completely oblivious to the chaos of the hospital or to the thundering of Zach’s heart. Long black lashes rested peacefully against his cheeks. His usually pink lips were just as plump as ever, but they’d lost most of their coloring.
“You still with us, Doc?” Wayne asked gruffly, interrupting Zach’s stage one nervous breakdown and snapping him back to reality—a reality where it was his responsibility to bring all life back to John’s face.
“Of course,” he snapped, mad at himself but letting his voice take it out on Wayne. “Tell me everything you know.” He pulled on gloves and inspected John’s wound while he listened to what Wayne said, which wasn’t much since it appeared to be nothing more than a gash to the forehead. After relaying his orders to the nurses waiting close by, he asked Wayne, “John Doe? Didn’t he have any identification on him?” He continued to work on the injury, thankful the gash was small. He could close it with stitches so tiny the flesh would be almost perfect once it healed. “Wasn’t there anybody at the complex able to give you his name?” It wasn’t important…except to Zach. His annoyingly gorgeous neighbor deserved to be nicknamed something other than John Doe.
“Yeah…that’s his name. John Doe,” Wayne answered with a confused frown. When Zach looked at him like he was crazy, he continued, “This was called in by a private security firm. He has an alert bracelet he activated before he fell. They identified their client as John Doe.” Wayne shook his head. “I didn’t believe it, but when we checked his license for his age, it was right there in black and white. John Doe. That’s a horrible name. If your last name was Doe, why in this world would you name your kid John? In my world, that’s just cruel.”
John Doe? Seriously? An alert bracelet? What the fuck?
So many things didn’t add up about the man who’d captured his attention and, from the way Zach’s body responded, had no intentions of letting it go. While he gently swabbed the damaged area with a numbing agent, questions shot around his mind like a pinball machine. “He hasn’t woken up at all?” he asked Wayne, who was surprisingly still hanging around as Zach started his tiny stitches. Perfect stitches for a perfect face.
“Unconscious when we got there, and other than a few moans of discomfort, he hasn’t shown any signs of regaining consciousness. I checked his eyes, and he’s responding properly, but with a wound no more serious than he’s got, he should already be showing some signs of life.”
Wayne was right. Zach was about to go into panic mode again when he noticed John’s long lashes flutter. Ah, Sleeping Beauty finally decided to join them. Zach felt incredibly unprofessional, but every inch of him couldn’t wait to see those beautiful blue eyes. Suddenly, it was necessary it be his face John saw when he first opened his eyes. Zach had noticed John’s skittishness around people, so he wanted to ensure his patient didn’t feel threatened. Yeah, that was the only reason he gestured for everyone else to stay back as he leaned over John.
“Hey, John. Think you can open those eyes long enough to look at me? Come on.” He urged his patient’s compliance, hoping his smile came through with his words. If the others weren’t blind, and they weren’t, they saw him stroke John’s cheek with the tip of his finger. At the moment, he didn’t give a fuck what they thought about his bedside manner. He’d worry about it later, after he knew John was okay.
More fluttering of the eyelashes and then those gorgeous eyes opened with a lazy movement. Zach smiled a welcome to him and said, “There he is. You had me worried.” He could see the confusion in John’s eyes and then, with a switch which went straight to Zach’s cock, those eyes turned warm and happy as he focused on Zach. If he thought his cock’s reaction to John’s gaze was strong, it was nothing compared to what his heart did when John returned his smile. Not one of his shy smiles. He gave him a full-blown I’m-happy-to-see-you smile. The pitter pat of Zach’s heart switched to a gallop.
“Hey, Zachary,” he murmured and then licked his lips. “I know your name now. Your friend outed you last night.” John appeared to be trying to blink away the cloudiness and confusion inside his head. Zach doubted John remembered much at all about what happened or why he was at the hospital. “You fell and hit your head. It took a few stitches, but nothing major. You’ll be good as new in a few weeks.”
“Hit my head. Okay.” He frowned and took a deep breath before murmuring, “I think I have a crush on you.”
Zach blushed and grinned at the same time. John’s mind was still a bit foggy, but Zach told himself the fogginess caused by the loss of blood merely resulted in John dropping his guard and saying things he wouldn’t normally admit to.
John tried to reach up to touch the damaged spot.
“Easy, sweetheart,” Melia, the nurse assisting Zach, said with a smile while easing his hand back down to the gurney. “You’ve got an IV in your arm, and we don’t want to accidentally yank it out. How are you feeling?”
One second, Zach stood over John, basking in the crush comment. The next second, the entire situation went straight to shit. John’s blue eyes looked up at him with all sorts of sweet promises shining brightly, and then, when John heard the nurse’s voice, those sweet promises morphed into sheer terror. His head whipped around in the direction of Melia, and when his gaze landed on her face, John’s entire body trembled, and it wasn’t a tiny nervous tremble. He gave a full-blown, shake-the-entire-gurney tremble. His eyes scanned around him, growing wide and pupils dilating at an alarming rate.
Zach recognized the beginning stages of a serious panic attack. He had no idea what caused it, but it was coming. Fast. When John gasped for air and started struggling wildly, Zach knew it would be bad.
“Easy, John,” he coaxed while trying to keep his patient lying on the gurney. “You’re safe. I’m right here.”
John flailed wildly. Gasping. Begging for help with his eyes because no words could squeeze through his frozen airways. When he managed to rip his hand from Melia’s tight grasp, he grabbed for Zach and wrapped their hands together. Zach didn’t understand why panic attacks happened or all the logistics of one, but he recognized sheer terror when faced with it, and the wild look locked on John’s face was certainly terror.
Thank goodness Wayne had hung around because it took all his muscled bulk to keep John on the gurney. From having witnessed John’s gym workout, Zach knew his wiry patient was all lean muscle.
“Come on, John,” Zach urged as he held their hands together. “You’re safe. I’m right here. Nothing’s going to happen to you. I need you to breathe for me, okay? Focus on breathing.”
John shook his head wildly in an effort to let Zach know he couldn’t breathe. Tears streaked his face. Tremors shook his body. John gripped Zach’s hand tightly, and Zach could feel the wild thumping of his pulse beneath his fingertips. The vein at the base of his neck quivered and quaked.
“John! John! I’m looking for John Doe. An ambulance should have brought him in minutes ago. John Doe. Is he here?” The yelling voice drew Zach’s attention.
The hospital staff wouldn’t allow the man back there, so he told Melia to go get him. Jumping over protocol would be worth it if it helped calm his patient. He wasn’t leaving John for any reason. To the other nurse, he ordered a sedative for the IV. He didn’t want to sedate John but it might be his only option.
“You’ve got to do it, Doc,” Wayne said, answering Zach’s silent battle. “He’s going to hurt himself if you don’t calm him down.” To John, he said, “You’re good, little man. Everything’s going to be okay. Can you count for me? Do you count to help you calm down?”
How in the hell is Wayne an expert on panic attacks? More importantly, why didn’t I think of that?
John’s eyes glazed over. Zach wasn’t even sure he heard what Wayne said to him. The terror coursing through him appeared to be consuming every inch of his brain. The nurse returned with the sedative, Melia and the mystery man right behind her. Zach’s inner caveman roared with fury when he realized the man searching for John turned out to be John’s pimp. What is that bastard doing here? When the man tried to move to John’s side, Zach barked, “Get back!”
With Zach’s nod, Melia took the ordered syringe from the other nurse and injected the sedative into John’s IV port and then stepped out of the way. Wayne struggled to keep John as immobile as possible and needed all the room he could get. Zach made a mental note to thank Wayne for sticking around and helping to keep John safe.
“He’s agoraphobic,” the man Zach tried to ignore said. “What did you give him? He’s already on medication. You damned well better not have given him something that might cause a negative interaction with his other medicine.” To Wayne, he said, “You shouldn’t have brought him to the hospital without permission. This is going to be devastating to John.”
Wayne glared and answered, “Not your call, buddy. He needed emergency medical attention and wasn’t conscious to say otherwise.”
Agoraphobic? Zach’s mind searched for everything he knew about the mental illness. Did they even refer to it as a mental illness? He knew it meant someone feared leaving their home. That didn’t make sense; John left his apartment all the time. They’d shared an elevator at least a half a dozen times. He’d seen him in the gym. Argued in the hallway. If John never left his apartment, Zach would have never seen him, and he wouldn’t be spending about eighty-five percent of his time lusting after him.
John’s body started to relax, and a few seconds later, he sucked in a giant gulp of air. The sedative worked its magic on John’s nervous system.
“It’s okay, baby. Just relax and let the medication help you. I’m right here. You’re going to be fine,” he promised. John’s body might be drifting off into sleepy land, but the grip on Zach’s hand remained tight. Zach knew he said words, like baby, which he had no business saying, and he every eye in the room remained on him, some curious and some angry. He hadn’t been working with this hospital staff very long and wasn’t completely sure they were aware he was gay—he also didn’t care if they found out. He doubted they cared one way or the other, but from the hostility rolling off John’s friend, he definitely cared. Asshole.
John’s eyes finally drifted closed, and the grip on Zach’s hand loosened and then fell away completely. Zach missed the connection immediately. He was in some serious trouble where John was concerned. Some crazy alpha protect-what-is-mine reaction kicked in the second he’d recognized his neighbor on the gurney.
“Have you taken care of his injury?” his nemesis demanded. “If you haven’t, get it completed so I can get him back to his apartment. I don’t want him waking up and facing this shitshow again. I feel quite certain any progress John’s made with his issues were clearly tossed out the fucking window today. He’s already a scaredy-cat as it is. I don’t need this bullshit added to his list of I can’t.”
Zach’s feelings for the man in front of him went from intense dislike to pure hatred. The bastard might be pretending to be John’s friend, but the shit tumbling from his mouth proved otherwise. Zach wanted to literally pulverize him into the ground—somewhere besides the emergency room because he didn’t want to risk someone trying to bring him back after Zach destroyed him.
“Remember the time we ran into that huge asshole in the emergency room, Doc?” Wayne asked with a smirk and a shake of his head. “That dude was a real douche. Kinda made me want to kick his scrawny ass.” His eyes lasered in on the man Zach already envisioned being strapped to a medieval torture device.
Zach smiled. “I remember it like it just happened, man. Like it just happened.”
Melia choked back a laugh.
Bad guy didn’t seem to find their joke nearly as amusing as the rest of them. Tragic. Zach didn’t give a fuck about anything the asshole thought.
“I’m John’s court-appointed caregiver. Get him ready to go home. Now.”
Zach immediately started caring about what the asshole thought. The bastard might very well have the power to remove John from his life permanently. That wouldn’t do. He didn’t trust the man, confident he didn’t truly have John’s best interest at heart, but he recognized playing nice might be necessary for a while—just until he figured out what the hell was really going on. Agoraphobia didn’t make sense from everything Zach had seen regarding John. Of course, he wasn’t an expert on the subject…but he would be before the end of the day. He vowed to learn everything possible about agoraphobia. Never again did he want to see the terror he’d just witnessed in John’s beautiful eyes.
Plastering on a fake smile, Zach asked, “What’s your name again? I’ve seen you around the building, visiting John, but I don’t think we’ve been introduced. I’m Zachary.” He stuck out his hand for a friendly handshake.
“Cameron. Cameron Maverick. You’re John’s neighbor, right?” Cameron’s dark eyes studied him closely, but he at least shook the hand Zach offered.
It didn’t take a medical degree to see Cameron didn’t trust Zach’s sudden attitude change. He’d have to try harder. “Yes, I just moved in several months ago,” he answered. “John may have a concussion, Cameron. He hit his head hard when he fell and needed several stitches. He really needs continued medical care until we know he’s completely safe.”
Cameron frowned. Zach couldn’t help but notice he hadn’t one time looked down at John, much less reached out to touch him or tried to comfort him when he’d been suffering through his panic attack. The man looked to be around John’s age, maybe a year or two older. Men using hair products didn’t bother him…except with Cameron. Zach didn’t like anything about him. Not the expensive suit tailored to fit his small frame. Not the impeccable hair, every hair in place and held prisoner with some ridiculous-looking gel. Definitely not the cold way he treated John.
“He isn’t staying in the hospital. He can’t handle being away from his safe zone. I want him back in his apartment before he wakes up. They should’ve never brought him here without my approval.”
Zach ignored Wayne’s disgusted snort, even if he agreed wholeheartedly. “I understand your worries. I believe it’s safe to say we’re all concerned about John’s welfare.” Zach looked down at a resting John. The gash had been tiny with no other discernable injuries. Zach’s mind whirled for a solution best for John. He’d prefer to have a CT scan since John hadn’t regained consciousness quickly. But if the original injury were due to a panic attack, it explained so much.
Getting him home before the sedative left his system might stave off another attack, which would be in John’s best interest overall. Zach never wanted to see that terror engulf John again. If they weren’t able to rule out a concussion, though, someone would need to stay with him to monitor his situation.
With limited options, Zach offered, “Why don’t you and I take John back to his apartment, and I’ll spend the rest of the evening monitoring his recovery and welfare? My shift was over anyway.”
Cameron frowned, but seemed to be pondering Zach’s solution. Finally, he said, “I guess that’s okay. The main thing is getting him back where he feels safe.”
Maybe Cameron wasn’t as bad as Zach pegged him for.
“He’s going to be very upset when he wakes up and realizes what happened today.” Cameron grinned like they were buddies. “He prefers to keep his crazy tucked away from prying eyes,” he added with a laugh.
Zach bristled again. No, Cameron was just as bad as Zach suspected—maybe worse. Keep his crazy tucked away? What the fuck kind of comment is that? Agoraphobia didn’t make John crazy; it made him a victim of a situation beyond his control. He was a hostage of his own mind. John needed support, not smartass comments from an asshole pretending to be his friend.
“I’ve got to fly, Doc,” Wayne growled in fury. “You finished with me? I think I’m about to be sick.”
Zach turned to Wayne and tried to send him a silent message with his eyes. “Sure, Wayne. Thanks for all your help. I’ll make sure John knows you treated him with respect and were concerned for him.”
Wayne raised his chin in acknowledgment and then made a hasty exit. The EMT was beyond pissed. Zach understood the sentiment. He was a couple of steps above pissed with Cameron, but he was going to have to keep it tucked away. He needed to use Cameron at the moment, so playing nice with the asshole topped his immediate agenda.
“Melia, can you make sure John’s paperwork gets taken care of for me? Try to rush things, if you can. Mr. Maverick and I would like to have John back in the safety of his apartment before the sedative wears off.”
When Melia rushed off to take care of the paperwork, Zach began carefully removing John’s IV. To keep Cameron in the loop and Zach on his good side, Zach said, “Agoraphobia? How long?”
Cameron shrugged like it was no big deal at all—as if John wasn’t trapped inside a prison he’d created and probably didn’t have a clue how to get out of.
“Oh, I don’t know. All his shit started about four years back. Things slowly got progressively worse for him, and he stopped leaving the building about three years ago.” He looked down at his watch and spat out a string of curse words. “Listen, how long is this going to take? I can’t spend the rest of my day babysitting Scaredy-Cat over there. I need to be in court in two hours. Jeezus, keeping John out of the nuthouse is a fucking full-time job.” Cameron’s ringing cell phone cut his tirade short. He yanked out the noise-maker, looked at who was calling, and muttered, “I’ve got to take this. Perfect. Fucking perfect. Now I’ve got to answer to him.” He turned and strode away, leaving Zach drowning in hatred.
“Why do you hang out with people like him, sweet John?” he whispered to his patient. “You deserve so much better. You need to be with people who really care about your health…who really care about you.”
Is that me? No, that isn’t possible. What I’m feeling toward John simply has to be connected to my profession—my commitment to offer aid and assistance to those in need. Oh hell, my infatuation with my neighbor doesn’t have one damned thing to do with my physician’s oath. It has everything to do with the way my heart speeds up when I see John. Or the way I get angry with him when I see other men going into his apartment. Maybe it’s connected the sweet smile John tries to hide when he sees Denala in the hallway or elevator.
After a few minutes, Cameron came barreling back into the cubicle, interrupting Zach’s thoughts. “Are we ready yet? I’ve got to get to the courthouse. Something’s come up.” Sweat coated Cameron’s red face. The ugly vein right next to his left eye throbbed with a nervous twitch. His entire body looked jittery and tense. Obviously, the phone call hadn’t gone well.
Good. Zach took a few seconds to enjoy the asshole’s discomfort. Seconds before Cameron totally lost it and got pissed with him again, Zach said, “Why don’t you go do what you’ve got to do, and I’ll make sure John gets back to his apartment. If it’s all right with you, I’d like to sit with him for the rest of the evening—just to monitor him because of the blow to his head.” Zach didn’t give a fuck if it was all right with Cameron or not; he wasn’t leaving John’s side, but the noose of playing nice stayed wrapped around his neck for the moment.
Zach could see how torn Cameron was with his offer—it didn’t make one bit of sense, but the other man wasn’t pleased with the prospect of Zach sitting with John. Were they an item? He sure the fuck hoped not since Cameron stepped right over the asshole line and straight into being a complete motherfucker when it came to John’s wellbeing.
“I don’t really like people being around John,” Cameron mumbled. Then, seeming to catch the questionableness of his comment, he quickly added, “John doesn’t really like to be around people. His crazy doesn’t sit well with meeting new folks, talking, being social.” He laughed out loud. “You know? All the stuff the rest of us call normal.”
As Zach ground his teeth down to nubs, his fingers itched to squeeze the life out of Cameron—squeeze until his eyes bugged out and his lips turned blue. He’d show the motherfucker crazy. Crazy meant being a total asshole to someone you called your friend. Hell, Cameron said he had the goddamned ability to make medical decisions for John. Zach hoped to hell the poor kid never got a mild cold—Cameron would want to pull the plug before it was plugged in.
“I’m pretty sure it’s referred to as a mental illness instead of crazy,” Zach corrected, but did it with a smile he hoped Cameron would interpret as I-get-ya, but the medical profession didn’t smile on being politically incorrect so he had to mention it. “Anyway, I see plenty of folks coming and going from his apartment. He must not hate being around people too awfully much.” Guilt ran through him for the comment, but he still couldn’t get past not knowing what John did with those men. Whatever happened in John’s apartment, Zach was jealous. He wanted it to be with him.
Cameron laughed again. “Oh…you noticed that, did you? Hot guys coming and going all the time.” His grin grew more evil when he asked, “What do you think is going on, Doctor?”
“Not my business,” Zach answered gruffly. The look on Cameron’s face made the hair on the back of Zach’s neck stand up. “I was only stating the facts. You said John says he doesn’t like being around people, but it seems like he may say one thing, but wants something differently.”
“I like you, Doc. You’re all right. I didn’t think I would at first, what with John talking about you all the damned time, but you’re okay. John’s a model for an adult website. The guys coming and going are just other models he’s doing photo shoots with.” Cameron waggled his eyebrows and said, “Since he won’t leave the building, I needed to find a way to share his prettiness with the rest of the world, right? He may be a pussy, but he’s a pretty pussy. He makes a fucking fortune with those photo shoots.”
Zach stomach churned with bile. What type of photo shoots did one do for an adult website? Sure, it beat prostitution, but still pissed Zach off. The thoughts of other men jacking off to pictures of John made Zach’s blood pressure go through the roof.
Wait…shit…what had Cameron said about John talking about him? Why had John talked about him to Cameron? Was it good? Was it bad? Had John noticed Zach’s surreptitious glances when he’d thought John wasn’t watching? There was so much Zach didn’t understand, but he knew one thing: he wanted Cameron out of his eyesight. Fast.
“I’m sure you’re busy, so let me take care of this for you. I was headed home, anyway. John knows me, so when he wakes up, it shouldn’t be too scary for him.”
“Okay,” Cameron finally conceded, glancing down at John still out on the gurney. “I appreciate it, man. I really do need to be in court. I’ll call Mack and make sure he helps you get John up to his apartment and then he can override the security code and get you inside Fort Doom and Gloom. I doubt I’ll be able to come over and check on him later this evening, but Mack has my number if you guys need me for anything.”
Zach frowned. “Who’s Mack?”
“Oh, yeah, Mack is head of security at your apartment building. He helps me keep an eye on John. I talked with him earlier about what the hell went on and he told me a computer glitch caused all the locking mechanisms on the doors to malfunction.” Cameron laughed again, and for the first time since arriving at the emergency room, he reached down to actually touch John, using the tip of his finger to brush John’s hair off his forehead. “Most of us would have muttered ‘what the fuck’ and used our key to get inside our apartments. John went and had a fucking panic attack.”
Zach wanted to yank Cameron’s hand away from John and demand he never touch him again. He wanted to punch him in his arrogant face until it was unrecognizable. He wanted to tell him he didn’t deserve a friend like John. All those things would be nice, but, instead, he nodded and smiled.
“Okay, you get going, and if you don’t mind, call ahead and make sure Mack is waiting on me.” Mimicking Cameron earlier, Zach glanced down at this watch and added, “He won’t be out much longer; I’d better get moving. Don’t worry about him. I’ll make sure he arrives safely back at his apartment and keep an eye on his head wound. Good luck in court,” he offered politely. “A lawyer?”
“Yeah, DA’s office. Thanks again, Doc. I appreciate this. John sucks a lot of time out of my schedule.”