Taylor had rarely relied on his charms or good looks for gain, but he would use whatever it took to get to Jude. “Thank you, Maxine.”
“Don’t get me fired. Now go.”
Taylor kept his head lowered as he walked down the hall. Orderlies were cleaning and nurses were helping patients in their rooms along the way. The other doors were closed. Locked, from what he could tell. He was conflicted. He didn’t know if he wanted her room to be locked for safety or open for him.
Grabbing the handle of her door, he turned and prayed it would open. And it did. The door opened and he stealthily slipped in. His breathing changed when he saw her on the bed, her hands and legs strapped to the bedrails. He sucked in an angry breath as he rushed for her.
Jude’s eyes were closed, her breathing even. She was sound asleep, but he went to work unfastening the straps at her wrists and then her ankles. Sitting down next to her, he brushed her hair away from her face and admired the beauty that lay beneath the dark circles under her eyes. Leaning down slowly, he kissed her just as she exhaled, her breath replacing his. “Jude? Jude, can you hear me? Wake up, baby. Wake up.”
She didn’t move. Her skin was pale and her lips dry. He knew she was alive, but he needed more, so he put his ear to her mouth. Her breathing was faint. Lifting up, he started gently shaking her. “Jude, wake up!” Each time he got more demanding. They were running out of time and he needed her awake. “Jude! Can you hear me? It’s me, Hazel.”
“Hazel.” He heard it, but it was so feeble he wondered if he was imagining it.
“Jude. Jude. Please wake up. It’s me. Hazel.”
The door opened and a doctor stopped, obviously startled by the presence of someone other than his patient. He backed out and shut the door quickly. Taylor was done for, but he needed to see her awake, so he shook her a bit harder. “Jude, please wake up. Wake up!”
The door crashed open and two large orderlies came in. “Sir, you are not allowed in here.”
Taylor stood next to his wife’s bed, and took her hand, squeezing it. “I’m her husband. I go where she goes and I stay where she stays.”
One of them came forward just as the doctor reentered the room. “Not this time, Sir. Now, please come with us peacefully.”
“Fuck you.”
The doctor stepped in from the doorway. “Mr. Barrett, we were warned about you and that you might show up. We’re prepared to call the police if you don’t leave on your own accord.”
“I’m her husband. You can’t deny my right to be with my wife.”
“Your wife is under strict care of not only this facility, but the state has granted conservatorship to her parents. So actually, you have no rights when it comes to Ms. Boehler.”
What the fuck? The hospital has a say over her? “Barrett. It’s Mrs. Barrett to you. She’s my wife and will be addressed and referred to as such.”
“Not until it’s recognized by the court and rights are granted to you. This is a private facility, so I suggest you leave and take care of the legalities before your next return or face the consequences of trespassing.” He stepped around her bed to the opposite side of Taylor and said, “Please excuse us while I conduct an evaluation on my patient.”
The word evaluation sent flashbacks of Jude telling him what happened during these “evaluations” and his fists clenched as he stepped to the end of the bed, trapping the doctor in the corner. “You touch her and I will kill you.”
The doctor held up his clipboard as if that could save him. With his already beady eyes, he narrowed them even more, and said, “I’ll make sure to take good care of Mrs. Barrett for yo—”
He never saw the punch coming. The doctor’s smug smirk was knocked right off. The blow would cause quick swelling and soon it would be tightly shut.
The orderlies were on him, grabbing each of Taylor’s arms and pulling him backward. Taylor fought the best he could but he knew they were trained for worse. He yelled, “Don’t you dare touch her.”
Antagonizing Taylor, the doctor took one of his fingers and poked Jude’s leg. Taylor went ballistic, freeing himself just to be tackled to the hard linoleum. A two-hundred-fifty-pound man had him pinned as the other put a cable tie around his wrists and pulled hard. Despite Taylor’s best efforts to escape, the tie cut into his skin and he continued swearing as he was dragged to his feet and yanked backward to the door. “Jude? Jude!” he shouted. Just before he was taken around the corner, her eyes opened and connected with his.
She mouthed, “Hazel,” then the door was slammed shut and locked, keeping him out and the doctor in.
“SIGN THIS.” THE doctor stood over Jude with a pen. “Sign this,” he demanded, much more forcefully. He had never spoken to her like that before, but she was groggy and couldn’t land her thoughts on reality.
Striving to focus, the form in front of her was blurring as well as the pen. Her arms felt heavy as they lay at her sides, but she reached for the pen anyway, and missed. Reached again and missed. The doctor took her hand and wrapped her fingers around it, then brought the ink to the document. “What is it?” she asked, too tired and closed her eyes.
“Just sign it!”
His angry words penetrated her foggy brain and she opened her eyes again, this time in fear. The doctor stood over her, the green of his irises intimidating. Her gaze went from the doctor to the pen, and back to the doctor again, noticing his swollen face. He held an icepack to his upper cheek with one hand and with the other he pushed the pen on her again. “Sign. I have rounds to make.”
She took the pen in hand this time and tried to work out the words that jumbled through her blurry vision.
“You got married, Judith. That has caused a lot of problems for us.”
Married. She moved her thumb to touch the underside of her rings. When she didn’t feel them, panic rose, and she held her hand above her to visually verify. “Where are my rings?”
“You know hospital policy. No jewelry. Nothing of any kind can be brought in.”
“Give them back,” she said, attempting and failing to sit up.
“You might get them back if you’re a good girl over the coming month.”
She stilled. Her vision may not be focused, but her mind understood the ramifications of his words perfectly clear. “Month? What are you talking about?”
“Yes,” he said, smiling while flipping through her chart. “You’ll be spending the next month with us. Isn’t that good news?” His dark gaze hit her, penetrating her heart. “Even better news. That means we’ll get to spend lots of time together.”
Everything was clear now, including her vision. “I want to see my husband.”
“I’ve added that you’ll not be allowed any visitors during this time of recovery. But you’ll be able to see him once you’re returned to the care and custody of your parents. Now sign this and let’s start our month off right.”
She flailed up, but was easily pushed back down, her body weak compared to his. “You’ll pay for that!”
“Actually,” he said, “you’ll be paying that.”
Her body shuddered under the fear. “I won’t sign until I see him. What is this anyway? And how does my marriage affect you?”
“Do you really think we’re going to share this with your new husband? After all the planning we’ve done?” The clipboard was taken from her and slammed down on the bed. Through a clenching jaw, he gritted out, “Are you going to sign?”
Her heart began thumping in her chest, her fear echoed with each dense beat. There was no out. He wasn’t leaving until she signed, so when he shoved the pen back into her hand and placed it on the clipboard, she scribbled her name across the wiggling line.