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That was true. We’d had an influx in fights, or so I’d been told.
“No fuckin’ idea.” Slate shook his head. “That was what I was trying to figure out when this happened.”
He gestured to his face.
“Unhook him,” Bayou grumbled. “Jesus, who brought him in here, anyway?”
“Flook,” Rome answered, using some keys to unlock the chains that were keeping Slate tied to the bed and restrained.
“Fuckin’ Flook.” The moment he was free he was sitting up and shaking out his arms. “God, this feels beautiful.”
I felt my heart pounding a mile a minute at seeing him ‘free.’
But, if Bayou was comfortable with it, then so was I.
At least, I was trying to be.
I pulled the gauze that I’d left on Slate’s face away and shifted so that I was standing in front of Slate, with Bayou at my back. I could practically feel Bayou’s heat all along my back, I was standing so close.
I wanted to shift back until I could feel him from shoulders to ass, but that might be inappropriate to do in front of others.
“Needs stitches,” I said to Slate.
Slate snorted. “Ya think?”
“Yes,” I answered, knowing he’d meant it to be facetious.
He rolled his eyes.
“But…” I said as I tossed the bloody gauze on the gurney behind him. “I don’t know how to do stitches, so we’re gonna superglue the bitch together and then steri-strip it.”
Slate’s eyes met mine, and then he grinned, making my heart stall in my chest for a few seconds.
But then Bayou moved closer until he was practically in line with my body and stared at the gash on Slate’s brow. “I think Pretty Boy here won’t care.”
‘Pretty Boy’ scoffed.
I forgot how to breathe because I could smell Bayou, and I could also feel him.
His utility belt was pressed into me, and I could feel the long column of his baton along the crack of my ass.
“I’m going to care if my fuckin’ face never heals correctly,” he countered, then turned his eyes to me. “You’re sure that it won’t fuck anything up to glue it?”
I shook my head. “It’s not actually superglue. It’s special and is designed to be put on these kinds of things. I don’t really have a choice, though. The doctor isn’t here yet and the longer that stays open, the worse it’s going to get.”
“Diane was supposed to be here?” Bayou rumbled.
I could feel his question against my back as his chest rumbled with his words.
“Yes,” I answered, swallowing hard. “Rome, can you hand me some more gauze?”
Rome grabbed a large stack and handed it to me. “Thank you.”
Something touched my leg, and I looked down to see Isa standing there, holding my phone up to me.
There was a message on the screen, and I grinned. “Bayou, can you get rid of the message for me so she can go back to her puzzle?”
Bayou took the phone from Isa and then gagged.
“What?”
“Your sister just asked you if you thought it was normal for her vagina to bleed profusely after having a baby,” Bayou said, sounding a tad bit strangled.
“Tell her yes,” I ordered. “That she had a baby for Christ’s sake, and that it’s probably going to do that until it’s completely healed. Tell her that you also don’t want a picture, because if you don’t, that’s going to be what she sends next.”
I couldn’t hear Bayou’s laughter, but I could feel it against my back.
I looked down at Isa, who was now staring at Slate.
Slate was staring down at Isa with what looked like longing in his eyes.
“She’s cute as fuck,” Slate rumbled.
I pressed a little too hard on his forehead, and he cursed and jerked back, eyes going to me with surprise.
“Don’t curse in front of her,” I ordered.
Slate’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I keep telling you.” Bayou handed the phone back to Isa, who took it and walked back to her chair across the room. “She doesn’t talk.”
“Doesn’t yet,” I corrected him. “Just wait.”
Fifteen minutes later, Slate’s head was as fixed as I could get it, and I was walking to the cabinet marked ‘antibiotics’ as I called the hospital using the prison phone and asked to speak with my mother.
She answered two minutes later.
“Yes, baby?” she asked, sounding distracted.
“Hey,” I paused. “I need you to go find a doctor and ask him what antibiotics I can give, and how much, to a man that just had his brow busted open. He’s allergic to…”
I then went on to name off all the antibiotics he was allergic to.
“Okay, hold on and I’ll get back to you.”
I was placed on hold, and I tucked the phone in between my shoulder and my ear as I washed my hands. Once they were dry, I took the phone back into my hand and then turned to lean my hips against the metal table that was now freshly cleaned and disinfected thanks to Bayou.
