Passion Restored Read online

  Blondie—Liz, he corrected himself—closed her eyes, and he assumed counted to ten. He couldn’t help but feel for her right then. Picking up inebriated friends from bars when you were clearly not in the mood wasn’t the easiest thing in the world.

  “We’re all friends here,” Murphy said softly. “I’m Murphy, this is my brother, Owen.”

  Owen nodded at them both, though his eyes were still on Liz. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” Liz said with a soft scowl. “Now that we’ve said hello, Tessa, we’re going home. I’m exhausted and not in the mood to deal with bars and the grabby hands of the dudes that frequent them.” She winced and looked over at Owen and Murphy. “Sorry. No offense.”

  Murphy snorted and held up his hands. “No offense taken, and no grabby hands here. Nice to meet you both.”

  Owen tilted his head and studied the shadows beneath Liz’s eyes. She may be exhausted, but he had a feeling it wasn’t just lack of sleep that gave her that look.

  And why did he care?

  He’d literally just met her and her friend and had said all of one word so far. He should just let them go and head home himself. He wasn’t in the mood for a bar night either it seemed.

  “Get some sleep, ladies,” Owen said after a moment. “Nice to meet you both.”

  Tessa pouted but winked as she did it, completely ruining the effect. “Nighty-night, boys.”

  Liz rolled her eyes, a small smile playing on her lips even as she tried to frown. “Good night.” She pulled at Tessa’s arm, and the two of them made their way out of the bar, most of the eyes of the men in the building following them. Owen couldn’t blame the guys as he was one of them, but he still felt a little bad about it.

  A guy tripped his way up to Owen’s side and snorted. “Looks good coming and going. I’d fuck either one of them, but that blonde one seems a bit stiff. Maybe she just needs a little D to get over whatever stick is up her ass.”

  Owen looked over at the idiot and narrowed his eyes. “Watch it,” he growled softly. “She was just picking up her friend.”

  The guy raised a brow. “What the fuck ever. She needs to get over herself.”

  The asshole’s friend cupped himself, rocking into his hand. “She just needs to be stuffed with something other than that stick.”

  Murphy put his hand on Owen’s shoulder, and that’s when Owen realized he’d moved forward ever so slightly toward the other two men. And now that Owen got a good look at them, he recognized them as the group Tessa had been talking to before in the corner.

  Owen might have had fantasies about Liz—and now felt like an asshole about them—but in the daydreams, she’d been a willing participant, not something to fuck and get over like these guys insinuated. And hell, he was glad Liz had gotten Tessa out of there because a woman drinking alone with these guys would only lead to bad things.

  Fucking idiots.

  “Let’s go,” Owen growled. “I’m done.”

  Murphy squeezed his shoulder and pulled him back again. “I’m with you.”

  The other guys ignored them, going back to whatever crude and mundane conversation they’d been having before, and Owen was grateful for it. He didn’t want to get in a fight tonight. Didn’t want to deal with the inevitable injuries to his hands—even though he and Murphy would have won for sure against these drunk idiots—and, hell, he definitely didn’t want to deal with the cops.

  Liz and Tessa hadn’t asked for their help and weren’t even there any longer, but Owen still had the desire to teach the guys a lesson.

  And because there was nothing he could do other than show them how to treat women, he slung back the rest of his club soda so he had a bit of pep thanks to the bubbles for the drive home and headed out of the bar with Murphy.

  The parking lot wasn’t that full since it was the middle of the week, but since he and Murphy had gotten there at different times, they hadn’t been able to park next to one another.

  “See you in the morning,” Owen grumbled.

  “Nine, right?” Murphy asked, his eyes too innocent.

  “Seven, and you know that.” Though Murphy would probably stroll in bleary-eyed and in need of caffeine at seven-fifteen or so. Their little brother was not a morning person and usually worked later than all of them to make up for it.

  “God, why are there two sevens in the day? I mean, hell, isn’t seven in the evening enough for us?” Murphy clutched his chest and took a couple of steps back, and Owen shook his head.

  “You’ll be fine.” And, thankfully, they were calling it an early night tonight since they did, in fact, have a very early morning. Owen would probably set out at six or so to pick up something to eat for the crew and coffee for his brothers. They never asked it of him, but he always did it. Anyone could have picked it up, but then Owen wouldn’t be able to make sure it was done correctly and on time.

  So he was a little anal-retentive.

  What of it?

  He said goodbye to Murphy and headed back to his car, aware that others were filing out of the bar, as well, their voices carrying on the wind. Owen rolled his head on his shoulders and stuffed his hands into his pockets as he crossed the long lot to where he’d parked under a street lamp.

  At the sound of a shout, he turned, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Lights filled his vision, and he took a staggering step back, throwing his hands up to shield his face.

  The sound of an engine filled his ears, and he only had a moment to realize what it was he saw until he couldn’t see anything else. The truck—it had to be a truck with the size of those lights—clipped him in the side, and Owen flew.

  He felt weightless and yet too heavy all at the same time.

  His body went numb before it felt as if he’d caught on fire.

  He hit the pavement hard enough to crack bones—maybe a few ribs—and he tried to scream, only he couldn’t get enough air. His body skidded across the parking lot for far too long, his head scraping the gravel along the way.

  Then he stopped.

  His body shaking.

  His mind whirling.

  And yet he couldn’t focus.

  Couldn’t see.

  Couldn’t breathe.

  The sound of tires burning rubber as they skidded away made him want to wince, but he couldn’t pull his arms up to cover his face. Rapid footsteps sounded as someone came near and others shouted for help.

  But Owen didn’t do anything.

  He couldn’t.

  When he finally opened his eyes and saw Murphy above him, his brother’s eyes wide, tears running down his pale cheeks, the streetlight hovering above him like a halo, Owen figured this might be the end.

  Because no Gallagher looked like an angel, not even his baby brother.

  Owen tried to reach out, to say something.

  But the darkness came, and then there was nothing.

  Nothing.

  2

  “Feel any better?” Liz McKinley asked her friend as she tucked Tessa in bed. They’d only been home a few minutes, and Tessa had decided to strip down to nothing but her underwear on the way to her bedroom. While she loved her friend, dealing with Drunk Tessa was a pain.

  Thankfully, neither of them indulged to this point often.

  In fact, Liz couldn’t remember the last time she’d indulged like this. That was kind of sad, honestly. But from the miserable look on Tessa’s face, Liz was pretty sure neither of them wanted to drink this much ever again. But her friend had had a shit day, and sometimes, drinking oneself into oblivion before calling a friend for help was the only way to get through it.

  “Mmph.”

  Liz snorted at Tessa’s response and finished tucking her in. Her friend was down for the count but would wake up the next morning fully functional and without a hangover. It had been that way since they were eighteen and living in the dorms. Liz honestly hated the other woman for the way she bounced back sometimes. Maybe once they hit thirty things would change, but for now, Tessa would probably be
better off than Liz once the sun rose.

  The two of them had been roommates since college and now owned their first home together. Most people wouldn’t go in on home ownership with their best friend, but Liz and Tessa weren’t most people. They’d been through hell and some versions of peace together and had come out on top. There wasn’t anything Liz wouldn’t do for Tessa, and she knew Tessa felt the same about her.

  Liz didn’t know exactly why Tessa had gone off to the bar alone tonight to drink away her worries. All she knew was that she’d had a bad day. But she knew she’d hear about it eventually. At least, she hoped so. For as open as Tessa claimed to be, her friend kept things tight to her chest.

  Though, honestly, Liz was much the same and never claimed to be open. She’d worked a full shift that day and had wanted to come home and start unpacking what was there. They’d moved in the week before, and hadn’t had time to do anything except find a pan to cook with and some sheets to sleep on. The other set of movers would be at the house with the rest of their things from storage in a few days, and Liz knew they at least had to make a pathway for the guys to walk through.

  With both Liz and Tessa working at the hospital, though, she had a feeling that neither of them would have time for anything personal for a while. Her position in the ER was tenuous at best since the hospital was once again facing cutbacks, and while she was good at what she did, she had a bad feeling about what the numbers told her.

  They had a few too many nurses on payroll, though in reality, there could never be enough nurses when it came to triage. Not that anyone in the administrative department other than Tessa understood that. And Tessa couldn’t do anything but batten down the hatches in her own position thanks to boardroom politics.

  Liz let out a groan as she left Tessa’s room and ran her hand through her long, blonde hair that was in desperate need of a trim. She’d been stressing over patients all day, and now she was home stressing about her job. She truly needed a life.

  Of course, the image of the dark-haired man with the very sexy and trimmed beard came to mind and she cursed herself. There was no way she was going there. Not with that man or his brother.

  And though the one who’d called himself Murphy was good-looking, Liz only had eyes for Owen.

  And that just pissed her off.

  She didn’t have time for a man, especially one that spent a weeknight in a bar trolling for women. There were more important things for her to deal with since her job was slowly killing her. She still hadn’t unpacked her clothes beyond her scrubs—not that she wore anything but scrubs most days of the week—and she wasn’t sure when she’d last had an orgasm.

  Liz stopped in her tracks on the way to the kitchen.

  Why the hell had she tacked on her lack of orgasms to that train of thought? Had it really been that long since she’d had sex? Hell, it had probably been that long since she’d gotten herself off in the shower.

  Liz tried to mentally do the math and just got more upset with herself. If she needed more than two hands to calculate the last time she’d come, she should probably be using her hands for something else.

  Determined, she rolled her shoulders back and headed to her bedroom, only to curse under her breath as her phone buzzed. She knew that buzz, the two quick bursts before a longer one.

  The hospital.

  Damn it. She’d already worked her shift and didn’t want to go back, but she knew if they called her in, she’d be there. Unlike most of the other men and women in her unit, she didn’t have kids or a husband waiting at home. Apparently, that meant her free time wasn’t as valuable as others’.

  Of course, a little voice inside her head whispered to her that if she had more time off, maybe she’d actually meet a man and get started on making those babies.

  Damn how she missed orgasms.

  Beautiful, long orgasms that made her all revved up and sated at the same time. There was truly nothing better than a man between her legs as he ate her out. He’d use his tongue and his fingers just right, and she’d come right on his face.

  With a sad sigh for dreams long forgotten, she pulled out her phone and answered on the second round of buzzes.

  “Liz here.”

  “We need you in. You didn’t work overtime today so you can work a half-shift.”

  Liz crossed her eyes at the sound of her supervisor, Nancy’s, voice. While technically the math of her statement worked out, it still wasn’t that feasible. Liz was exhausted and doing an extra shift—partial or no—wouldn’t be safe for anyone long-term.

  “I can come in, but I don’t know about working a full half-shift. You’ll have to double check the math so we don’t go over.”

  “You do your job, and I’ll worry about the math. Get in, now.”

  And with that, she hung up, and Liz lifted her lip in a snarl. She loved her job, she really did—except for the times she hated it. She was well and truly on her way to a burnout, and she prayed that no one got singed on her way down.

  Lives depended on it.

  The ER was packed to the brim by the time she got there, and though it wasn’t a full moon, the place had that same kind of energy. Tonight wasn’t going to be an easy one that was for sure.

  She quickly stored her things in her locker and grabbed a cup of coffee, imagining it was from her maker at home and not the sludge she currently poured into her body. Since this wasn’t her shift, she went straight to the board to see where she was needed and what she could do.

  The head nurse—Liz’s supervisor—Nancy, called her over as soon as Liz got to the central station, and Liz made her way as she finished her drink.

  “Where do you need me?” she asked and threw away her cup in the recycling bin under the desk.

  “There’s an MVA in room seventeen. It looks like the car just clipped him according to the on-scene reports, but he went down hard on the pavement.”

  Liz’s brows went up. “A car hit a pedestrian?”

  “Yep. Looks like it might have been deliberate, too, since it was in a parking lot,” Nancy put in. The other woman loved gossip but was real clear on the lines of patient confidentially, thankfully.

  “I’m on my way,” Liz said as she made her way to the room. She grabbed a quick glance at the chart as the others worked and moved to wash her hands and prep before she started.

  “Call for the OR,” the doctor on call stated. “Looks like a lacerated spleen.”

  Liz held back a wince. If the man had a lacerated spleen, there was a good chance he’d lose it tonight. And while that wasn’t life-threatening if they were quick about their diagnosis, it meant there could be other internal injuries.

  When Liz got to the doctor’s side, she blinked as she looked down at the patient in the bed.

  “Hey, Liz,” Owen stated, his voice filled with pain.

  How he was awake right then was beyond her. And, holy hell, what a small world. She felt as if he’d just spoken to her at the bar, and now, here he was.

  “You know him?” the other nurse, Lisa, asked, a curious gleam in her eyes. Liz did her best to avoid being the butt of gossip around the hospital, and now it looked like Lisa wanted to catch something juicy.

  “Mr. Gallagher,” Liz said, pointedly ignoring Lisa. “Can you tell me how you’re feeling?”

  “Like I got hit by a car,” Owen said with a cough before trying to hide a wince. Tough guy, she thought. But even the toughest of the tough needed pain meds every once in a while.

  “Looks like it, too.” She took his vitals again, noting that while he had to be in pain, his BP was decent, and he didn’t have a high temperature. His heart rate was slightly elevated, but considering what he’d been through, it made sense.

  “I guess this is one way to get you to talk to me,” Owen said, and Liz wanted to ask him to shut up. She did not need the staff thinking she had a thing going on with her patient.

  “It would seem. Now, let’s get you all fixed up, shall we?” She went back to work as the others did
their thing. From the looks of it, Owen had a fractured clavicle, a few broken and bruised ribs, as well as the lacerated spleen that required surgery. And from the way his eyes tracked and the fact that he’d apparently been unconscious at the scene, he more than likely had a minor concussion, as well.

  All in all, not too bad, considering he’d had a run-in with a freaking car.

  “Will you talk to my brothers?” Owen asked, his words slurring. They’d pumped him full of drugs to dampen the pain and prep him for surgery so it was no wonder he was going under. He should have been out of it long before this.

  Brothers? As in more than one?

  That was a dangerous thought.

  “I’ll make sure the doctor lets them know what’s going on,” she promised.

  “You. Make sure it’s you,” Owen whispered. “They’re gonna freak…” And with that, he was out, and Liz was feeling a little confused.

  Why on earth did it need to be her? She’d spoken to him quite rudely for all of two minutes earlier, but apparently, that meant something to this man.

  Lisa gave her a look that spoke of more than Liz wanted to get into right then, and Dr. Wilder frowned.

  “Surgery is taking him up now, but from what I can see, it should just be his spleen. Why don’t you come with me to talk to the family?” he asked, his words clipped. Dr. Wilder did not like his role usurped, but at the same time, he didn’t like talking with families either.

  Liz shook her head. “I don’t know them, Dr. Wilder.”

  “The patient seemed to think you do, so you’re coming with me.” He walked out of the room, and Liz watched as the techs wheeled Owen out of the ER. She knew their surgical unit was the best in Denver, and he was in good hands, but for some reason, she got a little nervous kick in her gut…one she didn’t usually get for patients. Ever.

  “Better go, Liz,” Lisa said from behind her, and Liz turned to face the other woman. “I’ll do the final check in here so you can go meet Mr. Gallagher’s family. Or maybe you already know them.” She fluttered her eyelashes; a smile Liz didn’t quite like appearing on her face. With all of them fully aware that someone would probably lose their job soon, Liz couldn’t let something as silly as a misunderstanding get blown up.