Chapter 12
TWELVE
The doctor has cute cat-eye tortoiseshell glasses. As she pushes them up, there’s a slight smile on her lips.
“I promise, it’s safe for Ms. Baxter to go home. There’s nothing more to do here.” Crossing her arms, she glances at me.
Those words are meant for the overbearing beast who’s been resolutely opposed to my release from the hospital.
If a pin were to drop, it would split the silence like thunder.
I’m caught in the middle. Justice scowls at her from across my hospital bed, his face stony, his entire body primed for a fight.
Gotta give it to him—the former SEAL is intense. Behind the laughs and smiles he was tossing around when he first came to my rescue is a deeply serious man.
“There’s got to be something to monitor,” he clips out in a militaristic tone, hands tightening on the railing.
“Not only did she have a near-fatal shock, she fell. And she’s got bruised ribs, for Christ’s sake.”
Boy he’s wound tight. I shrug at the doctor, wincing slightly, but Justice’s so focused on her he’ll never see it.
The rib thing is painful, but a small price to pay for him saving me.
However the fact that he hurt my ribs in the process puts a mountain of guilt on his shoulders
“Justice… please.”
His nostrils flare, gaze turning hard, yet soft at once.
“This is important. Your life could be in danger.”
My heart hurts for him.
This is how the last twelve hours have been. A bomb with a questionable fuse.
Give me hazardous, volatile chemicals in beakers, I’m good. Protective rescuers, not so much.
The doctor seems to have practice, though. Sounding very reasonable, she says, “There’s no risk to her lungs—we confirmed that with the X-rays. Her pain is well controlled. Her cardiac rhythm is great.”
More stone-faced staring from Justice’s side. Only this time, there’s a tic below his eye.
I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll have to get her to find his teammates so they can drag him away. Not that I want him gone. I actually want him close.
Really close. As much for him as for me.
The pain behind his eyes is worse than getting shocked.
“Sir, I promise,” she says softly, feeling her way through the maze of his anger. “We’ve done all the standard tests. She’ll rest better at home. I know you’ll be right there with her, keeping a very close eye on Ms. Baxter’s well-being.”
“Hey.” I touch his forearm, hoping I can give him some measure of peace. “All the tests are normal.”
His jaw clicks as he opens his mouth, closes it again, and grips the handrail on the side of the bed hard enough to rattle the steel.
“It’s okay, Justice. I feel fine,” I assure him. “We’ll have plenty of pain medicine. There’s nothing else wrong.”
Amazingly. But it seems getting brought back to life was all I needed. Now there are other things to think about—like my life. And him.
Justice’s dark-brown eyes finally flick to me. “I can’t let anything happen to you again. I won’t survive.”
The impact of his words shocks the air right out of me.
There it is.
His heart on full display.
“Um, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be back in a moment.” The doctor skims a hand over his shoulder, giving him a light squeeze as she passes by.
Harsh overhead hospital lighting catches on the flicker of the muscles in his jaw. The tension he’s carrying is enough to crush the room.
We’re left alone, looking at one another.
“I’m fine,” I whisper. “You’re the reason I’m okay.”
Pushing off the bedrail, he stalks to the corner and back, scrubbing his hands over his face. “The safe house isn’t good enough for you like it is. It’s not nice—fuck. The beds are cots, dammit, and you’re—”
“I’ll be fine.”
He pulls out his phone, angrily jabs at the screen, and holds it to his ear. When someone answers, he says, “I can’t bring her there; she won’t be comfortable. I don’t want them to release her. There’s no guarantee she won’t need medical intervention. What if—”
Someone cuts him off, because his face reddens, veins pop, and he snarls his upper lip.
“I don’t want to talk to Allison,” Justice says gruffly.
He paces an angry lap, muttering, “Allison, put Truck back on the phone.”
Then, a second later, he deflates like a popped balloon. “You did?”
When he looks at me, there’s a flash of confusion covered by worry.
“Thanks,” he rasps. “I’ll let you know.”
As he hangs up, the doctor breezes back into the room. She’s got a gigantic plastic tote bag filled with something—or lots of somethings, to be exact.
My name is written on the outside in swirly handwriting.
“I think this will help.” She carefully walks up to Justice. “Here. I put some things in there that will help you keep track of her vital signs, and some things to keep her comfortable. You can return it later.”
His hard gaze drops to the bag and back to her.
She smiles brightly. “There’s a thermometer, a blood-pressure cuff, a spirometer, a food scale, a hair dryer, a pack you can heat or freeze, a blanket, some hospital socks, a tape measure, an emesis basin, a penlight, some gauze, some tape, and some packets of Calm drink powder.
That’s a magnesium drink. Those are for you—I had some in my locker and thought they might be helpful. ”
Everything but the hospital sink.
My ribs start to ache from holding back my amusement, but really, his distress isn’t funny, and the doctor is adorable trying to reassure him.
When Justice only stares at the bag now in his hands, she comes over to the bed to speak to me. “Good luck, hon. Come back if you have any problems, okay?”
I cover her hand with mine when she rests it on my arm. “Thank you for everything. Your team is wonderful. We’ll return the supplies when we can.”
She winks, grin widening as she adjusts her glasses. “All good. Take your time. Be sure to take your pain medication on schedule, and if you notice anything—”
The door swings open and two big men walk in cutting her off. Beast is one. The other I don’t recognize.
“Ah, the reinforcements,” the doctor whispers as they close in on him, talking in low tones.
She scoots out of the room with a wave.
A few moments later, we’re in the back of an SUV, and the air couldn’t be any denser if it were solid ice. Justice has tucked me in so tight I’m a mummy.
“Thank you. Why don’t you hold my hand?” I ask to distract him from poking, prodding, and fretting himself into a fit as he checks my seat belt again.
“So, I get to go to a safe house, huh? Sounds very exciting. Is it like a bat cave?”
Justice doesn’t look at me as he laces our fingers tightly together. “I wish it was.”
In the rearview mirror, I catch the concerned glance from his boss.
“Talkative bunch today, I see.” I try to lighten the mood before the truck collapses under the weight. “You’d think we were going to a funeral or something.”
The guy in the passenger seat coughs into his hand, facing the side window as he murmurs, “I can’t believe you’re joking about funerals.”
“Why not? I’m Rosalie. What’s your name?”
“Ryker.” He twists in the seat to shake my hand. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. Didn’t expect you to have a morbid sense of humor.”
The whole time this is going on, there are waves of heat coming off Justice. Ryker’s going to be burned to ash if Justice glares at him any harder.
Whew. He’s intense.
When Beast signals and turns off the road into a small stand-alone business, Justice sits forward. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Getting you some donuts. You love donuts. And burritos. And, come to think of it, about any kind of food there is. Something’s got to help with this damned mood you’re in. I’m hoping sugar will do it because you’re scaring your girl.”
Justice’s head whips toward me.
“Am I?” he rasps.
“We’re all just worried about you,” I say low enough for only him to hear.
“Boss,” Ryker says sharply, breaking the moment. “Incoming trouble on our six.”