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“Were the guys wearing rings, Max?”
He cleared his throat. “Yeah, they were. Bunch of fucking pussies. Might as well have had brass knuckles.”
John nodded. “All right. I’m going to take pictures of this bruising pattern. They’ve hit you so hard back here that their rings left imprints.”
It boggled my damn mind how these men thought a hospital wasn’t necessary for any of this.
2
Max
The world felt as if it was swirling around me. That’s what pulled me from sleep. My eyes refused to open, and I felt some crusty shit trying to poke my eye out. I coughed, feeling my chest jump and my face explode with pain. And with every part of my body that became more aware of th
e morning sunlight pouring against my body, the more pain dawned on my conscious mind.
“The fuck.”
I heard birds chirping as the crusty outer layer to my eye finally gave way. It sent involuntary tears slipping down my face. I lifted my fist to wipe it away. With every movement I made, I thought I was going to puke.
From the pain.
“Here, this should help.”
John’s voice seemed far off in the distance. I felt something sink into my upper arm, pinching and piercing, sending my ‘fight’ signals into overdrive. I clamped down onto a wrist and tried to pull whatever it was that was stabbing me out of my damn arm. I felt something bony press down against my major artery in my thigh, causing my head to spin.
“Fuck,” I groaned.
John sighed. “And we’re gone. You always did hate needles, you weird, tattooed little fucker.”
My eyes had a hard time focusing. I got my head turned and gazed around the room. Shit. No wonder I felt like hell. I’d fallen asleep on the couch in the damn living room. I reached up for the curtains to the window beside me and I tugged them shut, trying to get that hot sun off my skin.
“Come on. Let me help you up. I need to see if you can at least sit up straight.”
John’s grip was tight. He helped me up off the couch and sat me up, leaning me against the arm of the piece of furniture. I felt like death warmed over. It had been a long time since I’d felt this kind of physical pain. And as I gazed around the room, my eyes fell onto a curious sight.
Dani, with her legs curled up against her chest, passed out in the recliner.
John’s recliner.
“She wanted to sleep last night with you propped up against her. I told her that wasn’t possible.”
I nodded slowly. “So you gave her your recliner?”
He snickered. “No. She helped herself to it and refused to leave. It’s being held hostage. I expect you to fix that.”
I buried my smile. “Yep. Will do.”
He chuckled. “I’m sure you will, loverboy.”
I rolled my eyes as I braced myself against the couch. John hovered around me, holding his arms out just in case I fell or some shit. But I knew I wouldn't. The more I stood, the more stable on my feet I felt. Despite the fact that the pain was excruciating.
At least my heart doesn’t hurt.
I shuffled myself into the kitchen. I needed a cup of coffee and some bacon. Some grease. Something to knock this cloud away from my mind. I leaned against the counter and used my shaking hands to pour myself a mug. I drew in the scent by the noseful, feeling my muscles already relaxing and the pain already slipping away.
“Pain meds look good on you. Just don’t make them a lifetime thing.”
John limped up beside me with his own mug clenched in his hand.
