"Ouch," he muttered.
"I'll bet. I'll call the doctor. They said that you already had something for the pain but that you could have more. I'll call her."
"No drugs. Phone?" he whispered.
An orderly had dropped off the stuff that had been in his car, including his phone and his briefcase. "It's here. You want to talk to someone?"
He cracked open his swollen, bruise-stained eyes. "Call my sister."
"You have a sister? Is she your next of kin?"
"Tell the hospital that you and I are married," he whispered.
Rox shook her head. "That ship has sailed, honey. I already told them we weren't."
"Damn." He swallowed hard and moved his tongue in his mouth.
"Ice?" Rox asked, desperate to do something to help him. "You can have ice chips. You want ice?"
"Yeah," he croaked. "The damn ice."
Rox pinched a sliver of ice out of the bowl that the nurse had left and poked it between his puffy lips. His teeth looked okay.
Cash sucked on the ice, and the tightness around his eyes eased. "Need you to call my sister."
Rox fumbled in his bag of his clothes and other things from his car to find his phone. "I don't know her name. What's it under?"
"Ana."
What the hell was Rox going to say to his sister?
She found a contact for Ana van Amsberg-there were no other contacts called Ana in his list, and she had his last name-and dialed without making him talk any more.
She really hoped that Ana was just his sister, even though she shouldn't.
He sucked on the ice.
After a long pause and a few rings, a woman's voice started speaking rapid-fire in a language that sounded like German but kind of English-ish.
"I'm sorry. I don't speak Dutch," Rox guessed. "Do you speak English?"
"How did you get this phone?" the woman demanded.
"I'm here with Cash van Amsberg. He's going to be all right, but he's been in a car accident. He asked me to call his sister. Is this Ana?"
A gasp. "This is Ana, his sister. Is he very hurt?" Her accent wasn't British at all, more like German.
"He's going to be all right. He's pretty banged up, and he had to have his spleen taken out. He broke a couple ribs. They'll let him out of the hospital in a few days."
Ana said, "Thank you for calling. Is he conscious?"
"Yes, but he's having problems talking. He just woke up."
"He will be all right?"
"Yes, ma'am. They said you can live just fine without a spleen. He's awfully banged up."
"Is his face damaged?" Ana asked.
Again, the emphasis on his face. Maybe he was secretly a model in Europe or something. "Um, we won't be sure what's going on until the bruises go down."
"Oh, Lord. Poor Casimir. Could you put me on speaker, if you please?"
Rox liked Ana. She had nice manners. "Of course."
Ana asked, "Before you do, who are you, please?"
"I'm Roxanne Neil. I work with Cash at the law firm."
"And are you," a very suspicious pause, "dating?"
"No. We're just friends, but we've worked closely for three years."
"You are the woman he calls Rox, correct?"
"Um, yes. I go by that."
"Ah. Could you please put me on the speaker now?"
"Of course." Rox tapped the screen and held it out.
Ana's voice was louder from the speaker. "Casimir?" And then more in Dutch.
He shook his head from side to side.
Rox held the phone closer to her mouth. "Ana? I'm not sure what you said, but he's shaking his head no."
"Why doesn't he want me to send people to take care of him?"
Cash's hand crawled closer to Rox's hip. He whispered, "Tell her no."
Rox covered the microphone part of his phone with her palm. "But you need someone to take care of you."
"I'll be fine," he croaked, barely conscious. "I don't need anyone."
"Yes, you do."
"No."
If they had been alone in his office, she would have laughed at him for being so ridiculous, but that might be the morphine talking. It must be impolite to laugh at people who were medically stoned.
She whispered, "Cash, honey, you're hurt pretty badly. You need someone to be with you for a few days, just in case."
"No one from Amsterdam," he said, his voice barely audible. His eyes opened to slits. "Rox, don't let her send someone. I'll hire a nurse here."
"You're in no shape to interview and hire people."
"Then I'll be fine by myself."
Rox was flustered, practically shaking her hands in her upset. "I can stay with you."
"Too much of an imposition."
"It's not. You kindly took me in when I was homeless. I would only be repaying a favor. Now you hush your mouth because I'm going to tell your sister that."
"You," he whispered. "No one else. You and your hideous cats."
"They aren't-" she protested.
"I'll pay you."
"You will not, and I am offended that you would suggest such a thing. I would never take money for taking care of you. It's the moral thing to do."
"I am asking you to."
"I-" He had outfoxed her. "Damn lawyer. We'll see. Ana? Honey? I'm guessing that I'm going to stay with him for a spell to take care of him, so he'll be okay. You don't need to send people."
"I hope this won't cause offense, Roxanne, but I need to hear that from him, just considering how things are."
"No offense taken. If I had a brother, I would want to make sure that he was safe. Do you want to do a video chat?"
Movement, and Rox saw that Cash was shaking his head as hard as he could, which was barely anything. Blood flaked out of his hair. "Cash! It's okay. I won't do video chat. It's just a phone call." She said into the phone. "I'll put the phone right up to him. Cash, honey? Your sister wants to hear it from you."
Rox held the phone, and Cash whispered something in Dutch.
Ana's voice said over the speaker, "If you insist. Rox, please take down my phone number and call me if you need anything at all, such as a syringe full of horse tranquilizers if he won't stop talking or a staff of large male nurses to get him to take his medicines. I'll get it to you immediately."
"I will sure do that. It is lovely to speak with you."
"Take me off of the speaker, if you would?"
Rox tapped the screen. "All right."
"And take a few steps away from the bed, if you would?"
She sauntered over by the long row of windows. "All right."
"Are his facial injuries very bad?" Ana asked.
Such concern over something so ridiculous as his face. He could have bled to death from the ruptured spleen.
"There is gauze on his cheek," Rox said. "I'm not sure what's under it. He has two black eyes, pretty swollen. Someone said that he may want some plastic surgery."
"All right. Well, we'll deal with that when it happens. Are you all right to stay with him for a few weeks?"
"I think I volunteered."
"That's Casimir. Don't let him take advantage of you. If something happens, if you need the cavalry to come and rescue you or restrain him, call me and I'll have people there within a day."
That was sweet of her. "Thanks, Ana."
"It is my pleasure and my duty, and keep my phone number."
Rox hung up and wandered back over to Cash, who seemed to be sleeping. She looked down at his poor, battered face for a moment, trying to quell the rage that someone would do this to him, even accidentally.
Dark, dried blood matted his hair, and a hank of it was plastered against his forehead. She picked it off and smoothed it back. A blood smear still stuck to his skin, and she went to the little bathroom and got a warm washcloth. She wiped it off, making sure not to drip the warm water down his neck.
It didn't help. He still looked beaten nearly to death, and her heart clenched at the thought of him dying in that crushed car.
His lips parted, and he exhaled, almost like a sigh.
On the bedsheets, his hand rolled over, palm up, and his finger twitched. He breathed, "Rox."
Surely, he didn't want her to hold his hand.
His index finger twitched again.
Rox scooted a melamine chair over to his bedside. Sitting on the bed would jostle him, and he was already in too much pain.
She slipped her fingers into his palm.
His skin was cool, and his fingers curled around hers. Some of the pain wrinkles in his forehead smoothed.
She whispered to him, "I'm here. I'll stay with you."
MONSTER
Casimir lay in the hospital for four days, and Rox stayed with him, fielding calls from the office for him the whole time. They developed a set of rudimentary hand signals so that she could ask him questions and he could answer without speaking.