My Bodyguard Is My Ex Boyfriend

Chapter Two: Blood Alcohol Level

Brandy

"Ugh," I groaned as I slowly came to. "Where am I?"

I smacked my lips, my mouth cottony dry. Blinking my eyes open, I noticed I was in a strange room. It took me a few moments to find the source of the annoying beeps and as I stared at the little monitor with the IV drip hanging off of it, I realized I was in a hospital bed. How in the hell had I ended up here!?

My eyes were heavy, my entire body sore. Sudden and debilitating pain ripped through my head when I lifted it and I cried out softly. Oh, that wasn't good.

Where was the damn call button?

As far as I could tell, I was all alone in the dark hospital room.

Fumbling around on the bed, I finally found what I was looking for. "Hello?" a kind nurse's voice answered.

"Hi," I replied gravelly. "Is there some way I could get some water and pain meds?"

"Oh, you're awake dear! I'll tell the doctor and one of us will be right on in with something for you to drink."

"Thank you," I whispered, settling back onto the bed.

As I listened to the silence and breathed, I could hear animated voices approaching the door.

"Mr. Cromp," I heard the stern voice of who I presumed was the doctor. "You can see your daughter right after I assess her and ask her some questions."

"Damn it! She is my daughter! She was attacked--

"Exactly!" The doctor snapped back, interrupting my father. "And she came to me in critical condition. You were yelling at all the nurses, making a scene and making everyone uncomfortable while they were saving her life. Until I clear her and make sure your daughter is okay, you will wait patiently in the waiting room. And maybe next time, if you want to be with her, you will cooperate and stay out of our way."

I was impressed by the doctor's backbone. He did not fear my father's wrath, which was rare. Usually, my father would have started spewing insults and threatening to take the person who defied him to court, listing every way he would ruin their lives. There was none of that now and I had to wonder why.

Seconds later, a tall handsome doctor, possibly in his late thirties, strode in with the customary white lab coat and stethoscope. "Ms. Cromp--

"Brandy please," I interrupted him.

"Brandy," he acknowledged, pausing at the entrance. "I'm going to have to turn some lights on. It is going to make you uncomfortable, because you have suffered a concussion. Why don't you close your eyes so you aren't blinded and in instant pain?"

I did as he recommended. A light flicked on and I was glad he had suggested closing my eyes because just the little bit of light that made it through my eyelids was enough to hurt. I squinted.

"While your eyes start adjusting, I'm going to ask you a few questions."

I nodded.

"Can you tell me your name?"

"Brandy Cromp."

"Good. Date of birth? Place of birth?"

I answered his questions haltingly.

"Do you know what day it is?"

"Saturday... Night?" I asked, my squinted eyes flicked to the little whiteboard that had the doctor's name, shift times, date, etc.

He chuckled as he followed my gaze, "Smart girl. Do you remember what happened?" he asked.

"Umm... I'm not sure."

"Tell me what you remember."

"I went out to a party with my friends. I was the DD and took them home at three. I was upset because, well, one of them got sick in the car, which resulted in a chain reaction."

He grunted. "That explains what we found on your clothes. We weren't sure if you had been sick or not."

Awesome. "I got home. I was waiting for our electric gate to open. As I was waiting, I saw ... I saw headlights. They turned onto our street. I didn't think anything of it until it stopped directly behind me. They opened fire. I squeezed myself down below the steering wheel..." My memories were getting fuzzier by the second. "The gunfire stopped and ... The last thing I remember was being pulled out of the car. It had crashed."

Why had it crashed?

The doctor nodded. "From accounts of what happened, you have a fairly good handle on the events of what transpired. With a few minor details missing. Over the next several days to weeks, your memories of that event should return, but in some cases they never do. I'm honestly impressed by how much you have remembered though. It isn't common in cases like yours."

"Cases like mine?"

"Yes. You suffered a rather severe concussion. Not to mention all the abrasions on your upper body. You will be sore for a while. Some stitches were required for some of the cuts you suffered, but overall you are very lucky, Brandy, to have escaped with your life. Now, I'm going to take your vitals and check your dressings."

Silence descended as the doctor looked me over. While he was busy with that, a nurse shuffled in with some meds, water and a few snacks.

"As long as nothing changes," he started. "You should be able to go home on Sunday morning."

"Thank you," I mumbled.

He paused at the door. "Do you want me to stall sending your father in?"

My gaze slowly moved up to meet his. The offer was tempting. I shook my head. "No, it'd be for the best to just let him in."

"Okay." When he left, he turned the lights back off and I relaxed into the bed, not looking forward to having my father hover over me. I highly doubted I would get any more rest with him in the room, but it was better if I was the only one he harrassed.

"Oh, Brandy!" my father exclaimed, barging into the room. And as usual, he didn't care about my comfort. He flicked on the lights, ignoring my wince of pain at the sudden bright light, and dropped into the chair next to mine.

"The lights were off for a reason, you know," I grumbled.

"Oh stop complaining," he snapped. "Would you want me to trip on something?"

"I'm the one lying in a hospital bed with a concussion," I snapped back, not taking his bull s**t well. Besides, what could he possibly trip on in here besides the obvious and easily seen furniture?

"Well, you wouldn't be here if you hadn't gone out partying last night."

Pfft, typical! My father was really good at blaming me for anything and everything, even if it was out of my control. "Yes, being shot at and nearly killed in front of my own home was my fault because I decided to go to a party," I bit back.

"If you wouldn't have gone, you would have been safe in bed." His anger was growing. I could hear the frustration in his tone as I refused to agree with him.

"Going to a party isn't a crime, you know."

"But drinking and driving is."

My infuriated gaze clashed with his. "I didn't drink a damn thing last night other than water! I was the f*****g DD!"

"Your car was soaked with vomit and smelled like alcohol!"

"That's because one of the girls I was driving home vomited, dad! And it made everyone else throw up too!" I snarled.

"Well," he huffed. "I had them do a blood alcohol test on you anyway. If there is even the tiniest bit, even if it is under the legal limit, I will take away your remaining yearly allowance and make sure you can't afford a replacement car."

I scoffed as anger and hurt ripped through me. "Unbelievable!" I crossed my arms over my chest. "I think you need to leave."

"Not until that test comes back."

"And when it shows I was completely sober with no alcohol in my system?" I demanded.

"We both know that won't be the case."

This arguing was making my head pound. I rubbed my temples gingerly. Perhaps if I settled back, closed my eyes and pretended to sleep, he would shut up and leave me alone?

However, peace never came. The universe decided it was time my results came in and when they told my father what it was, his expression was blank. I couldn't help the triumphant smirk that crossed my face. "That has to be wrong," he snapped.

"It wasn't sir," the nurse said in a clipped tone. Her eyes flashed and I could only imagine she was one of his victims.

When she left, I settled back down. Dad could go to hell for all I cared.

His heavy sigh drew my attention but I refused to take the bait. "Brandy, look. I'm sorry. I've been such an ass to you, to Timmy."

“Yeah," I agreed. "After mom died you completely forgot we existed.”

My mother, Lillian Cromp, died five years ago in a car crash. She had been the victim of a drunk driving accident. My father, after her death, avoided me and my younger brother like the plague. He left me to take care of Timmy, who had been two years old at the time. Timmy didn’t understand why our mother had left and why papa didn’t care. It had been tough on me, being a sixteen-year-old girl, taking on the full-time care and responsibility for my two-year-old brother while my father ignored my crying pleas for help.

Along with practically raising my brother alone, my father forced us to move here to California, where we knew no one. Father bought the mansion my mother dreamed of one day living in, which pretty much made living at home suck because it was a constant reminder of her. It was on the outskirts of San Francisco. The countryside was beautiful, the ocean exquisite, but that wasn’t enough to quench the pain.

To top it off, he had sent me to a private, snobbish high school.

My life had been hell ever since.

I survived it, though. And I was now on my way to getting a law degree.

As much as I had contemplated leaving, I felt like I couldn’t. I wanted to protect my brother from our abusive and neglectful father. I couldn't just leave him, because I knew if I did, our father wouldn't let me visit him. Father was a control freak, and not the normal kind. He loved having control over me and my life. He even had some financial control over me.

My mother had been a rather successful business owner and had set aside money for both her children. Upon mother’s passing, these accounts became tentatively available to both my brother and I. There had been restrictions placed upon the accounts—as had been stated in my mother’s will—where, at the age of eighteen, $100 thousand a year, plus all expenses paid for tuition, would be given until we had our degrees. Whereupon, we would be given full and complete access to our bank accounts, which held over several million each.

The catch being, there were some very restrictive requirements pertaining to this inheritance. One of them being I had to continue living on the property we called home. Unfortunately, when mother had made her will, she hadn’t taken into account out of state schools. So, I was a bit restricted on which colleges I could attend without breaking the requirements in order to gain my much needed yearly allowance. I knew she had done it and meant it with the best of intentions. It wasn't her fault she had been killed prematurely. If everything had gone according to her plans, she would have been here with us, father wouldn't have lost his mind and I wouldn’t be in this position.

Her requirements also allowed him to control the amount given to me as well, if he deemed it was necessary. Which meant I had to play nice with my father until I graduated and could escape this house so devoid of love. If he wanted to, he could withhold my funds stating any reason he wanted.

“Look, I’m sorry that for the last five years I’ve had my head stuck up my ass. It’s just . . . Your mother’s death . . . I couldn’t handle it.” He sounded defeated, but I couldn’t trust it was real. We had gone down this path before, and it only ever ended in heartache. My father, the man he once was, had died the same day my mother had.

I scoffed. “You think her death was easy for us!?”

"I know what I did was inexcusable. That’s why I’m going to try to start doing things right,” he admitted. "Last night, when you were being shot at, it woke me up--

"So what? You finally remembered you had a son and daughter?" I couldn't help it, the bitter jab was out of my mouth before I could think better of it. "You know, it was probably some random ass shooting anyway."

His long, drawn out pause caught my attention. "Umm, about that." For some reason dread settled into the pit of my stomach. I just knew what he was going to say next wasn't going to be pleasant. "A little over a month ago, I was working late. Everyone else had left, at least I thought so, until I heard someone screaming. Long story short, I investigated and found Senator Ross, along with the owners of L&L Law firm, shooting up an underage girl with an illegal substance before taking advantage of her. I snuck quietly back to my office where I went to dial 911 but one of Ross’s security guards found me and dragged me to the attention of the senator and the owners. They threatened me, they threatened you and Timmy if I so much as uttered a word about what I saw to anyone else.”

It didn't surprise me Senator Ross was a shady character--I mean he was a politician for heaven's sake! I had gone to school with his son, Axel Ross, and he hadn't been someone you wanted to cross.

My skin crawled. “You went to the police, didn’t you?”

“I went to the FBI.”

I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. I wanted to be mad at my father for putting Timmy and I in such danger without us knowing, but I couldn't summon any. What my father was doing was noble, standing up to a senator for his criminal misdoings, especially against a minor. I would like to think I would have been brave and done the same as him. “So, have the bastards been arrested yet?”

“Not yet. The evidence I provided was good, but not enough. There are gaping holes and the FBI is doing what they can to gather more condemning evidence against the Senator and the owners before making a case.”

“So, what does last night’s shooting have to do with this?” I asked tiredly. I could make a pretty good guess as to what he would say next, but I wanted to hear it from him rather than guess.

“The agent working the case isn’t sure how the Senator found out, but he believes someone in the agency is secretly working for him and tipped him off.”

And now our lives were at risk. “So, now what?”

"I reached out to a personal security agency run by an old army friend of mine and I have hired three body guards." One for each of us.

"When do they arrive?"

"They are already here. Luckily, they were already at the house when you were attacked," my father admitted. "They chased off the criminals and helped keep you stable until the ambulance arrived."

Helped keep you stable...

My father's words shook loose something from last night. "Dad," I started hesitantly. "Did I imagine it, or was Nathaniel Jansen there?"

"He's one of the body guards. Well, more specifically, he is your body guard."