Page 7 of Operation Daddy

Something pricked July’s arm. He tried to stay conscious, but his body felt too heavy. July lost the battle.

When July came to again, nothing looked familiar. Soft bedding engulfed him. July felt too out of his head to be afraid. His mind wouldn’t clear. A blond man fiddled with an IV hovering above him. July tried to speak, but no sound emerged. A needle appeared and pumped something into his IV line. He was back out in less than a second.

The next time July’s eyes opened, he felt a little more lucid. He definitely had a clear enough head to feel the pain, while everything felt slightly dulled, as if agony waited on the sidelines to jump him. July moved as little as possible while eyeing the room. Nothing looked familiar until he spotted his bags. Everything he had taken with him was piled in one corner. Even his money sat on top in a clear bag. Tears rose in his eyes. He stared at the ceiling. Rex would definitely kill him this time. He didn’t know why he had an IV, but he felt certain that easy access to his veins wasn’t for a good reason. Maybe he intended to keep July drugged until he decided how he wanted to torture him. Rex would never let him off easy. There would be pain, and lots of it. He belonged to Rex. Only death would set him free.

Warmth moved under the pile of blankets beside him. July hadn’t thought of the possibility he wasn’t alone. With his heart in his throat, July pinched the covers on the sly and slowly drew them lower. He held his breath as blond hair came into view. Then a head shot up. July imagined he looked every bit as confused as the golden retriever at July’s side. The dog scooted closer and set its head on July’s chest. Once settled, the unexpected companion closed its eyes. With one ear folded over and its tongue hanging out, the adorable dog was out again.

“She refused to leave you after you were brought in.” A man in a doctor’s coat moved to the edge of the bed. He checked July’s lines. “Dr. Austen Agafonov” was embroidered on the man’s jacket. The last name sounded vaguely familiar, and July was certain he had seen Austen before. He just couldn’t recall where.

“You’re lucky you were brought to me when you were. I don’t know who stitched you up, but infection was setting in and you had some internal bleeding.”

July had been too scared to even consider his health. “I stitched myself.” Whoa. He sounded awful and his throat hurt. July winced.

Austen leaped into action. “Are you in pain? I’ve been trying to keep you on schedule with your medication. It’s getting close to time. I can give you something a few minutes early.”

July shook his head. He needed his mind clear. “Where am I?” He fully expected to get stonewalled, but to his surprise, Austen answered.

“You’re in a secret bunker at The PlayPen.”

“The Play—what the fuck? When I went to bed, I was nearly a thousand miles away. How did I get here? Why would you bring me back?” His teeth snapped shut. Rex. Of course, it was Rex. His heart raced with fear. “I guess you’re just keeping me alive until Rex decides what to do with me.”

Austen stared at him with a deep line between his eyebrows. “No. Not only do I have no clue who this Rex fellow is, but I’m a highly regarded physician.”

July realized he had offended the man. He couldn’t worry about that right now. “Sorry, I just need to get out of here.” He frantically tugged at the lines connected to him. “You don’t understand. I had a plan. I had gotten away.” The attempt to shout tore at his vocal cords.

“Stop, Princess.”

July panted, but he stopped fighting. Fear had him in a chokehold.

Fletch held his hands, stopping July from tearing anything out. His thumbs brushed back and forth, comforting him.

“You’re okay. I promise you’re safe.”

July never felt safe. What did Fletch know about desperation? Nothing. That’s what. Fletch was solid and strong. He had a hard edge that screamed danger. No one would dare treat him the way July was always treated. He couldn’t stop gulping air, trying to catch enough oxygen to breathe. There was no air. A fluffy head hovered over his face, as if he was part of the medical team. His thoughts were all over the place. He heard people talking. No words penetrated his terror. He had hit his breaking point when he had frantically sewn himself shut while blood poured from him. That shattering of his soul kept going, tearing him into smaller and smaller pieces. Fletch could never understand that. No one could. His head spun. What little air he had captured left his lungs. Everything vanished.

Chapter Four

The coffee shop smelled amazing. There was also a bedazzled hot pink cup on display that July had to buy. That alone was enough to brighten his day. Even if he got stood up, he at least had a new pretty thing to look at. His stomach fluttered, making it hard to drink his favorite mocha iced coffee with salted caramel cold foam. He knew the drink probably had like a bajillion calories. There were small things in life he had learned to live with. Eventual diabetes was one of those things. He sipped his drink. Yeah, totally worth the risk.

The door swung open and six-foot, two-hundred and fifty pounds of solid muscle walked through the door. He moved his sunglasses from his eyes onto his head. His gaze swept across the room before landing on July. As he headed July’s way, his face was set in the hard way it always was. He looked mean and scary. July could barely breathe, but that had nothing to do with being afraid.

Fletch pulled out the chair across from him. His gaze swept July as he sat. “This is a different look for you.”

July shrugged. He needed to play as if he didn’t care what Fletch thought. Showing weakness around men never worked out for him. “I don’t know. When I woke up this morning, I chose to embrace the wild side.” Much to his horror, a nervous-sounding chuckle popped out.

Fletch’s mouth lifted in one corner. “Let’s see. Purple wig, black leather pants in Southern California. Bold move, by the way. Purple boa and your favorite unicorn shirt. I know someone who would love to play dress-up with you.”

July rubbed his hands together and leaned across the table, moving closer to Fletch. “Is it you?” Please say it was him. July would love to undress Fletch. He couldn’t even imagine the sexiness that hid beneath his clothes.

“No. I’m not down for that.”

July’s shoulders fell. One step forward and two steps back. That was always the case with Fletch. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t walked himself backward and over a cliff by now. Fletch was impossible to crack. He kept meeting July and doing things with him, but July had no clue what Fletch actually thought of him.

He had to back down before he hurt his own feelings. July leaned back. “Do you want some of my coffee? I bought a new cup, so I can split this one.” He shook the large plastic cup at Fletch.

“Nah, I’m good.”

July huffed. “Why did we meet for coffee if you don’t want any?”