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I grab his hand and drag him inside, into the kitchen. My mind is moving at speeds I can’t keep up with. Hector is here. My father. I have questions, so many questions, but not enough energy to ask them.
“Saint…” Brantley says, leaning against the counter casually. “It’s just a bullet wound. It didn’t hit anything important. Chill. It’ll heal.”
“What?” I screech so loud that I’m almost certain the windows shook. “What do you mean a bullet wound!” I yell at him, taking the final steps I needed to come face-to-face. I slap him against the chest—the good side—“How could you get shot!”
He ignores my question, but keeps his eyes locked on mine. Silence spills between us as I fight to keep my eyes upward and not get distracted by his body.
“Sit down, bro,” Lena interrupts our stare down, dropping a large leather suitcase onto the table and unzipping it. “You can continue your fight after I fix you up.”
Brantley shuffles over to one of the kitchen chairs, spreading his knees wide and kicking out one foot. His eyes stay on mine and I have to remind myself to breathe. He’s intimating. His stare burns fire inside my belly. I will not get distracted. I am upset with him for multiple reasons, but the fact he got shot trumps them all. I suddenly forget that we had sex last night and everything was awkward between us.
“Are you a doctor?” I ask Lena, finally dragging my attention away from Brantley and making my way to the chair beside him.
Lena pulls out a small bottle filled with liquid, a metal bowl, a coil of string, and a case of various sizes of needles. She never takes her eyes off her task. “Med student, but a good one. Surprised?”
“No,” I answer honestly. “Why would I be surprised?”
Lena finally pauses for a second and looks directly at me. Her tattoos are everywhere. A couple of smaller ones around her face. “The tattoos, and the fact I don’t look like someone who would be saving lives.”
“I wouldn’t know what a doctor is supposed to look like.”
Brantley clears his throat, tapping my leg with his. “Can you grab me a bottle of scotch?”
I glare at him, my mouth snapping closed. “No.” I push off the chair and get to my feet when fingers connect with mine. A surge of electricity shoots through the connection and I go to snatch my fingers out of his grip, only he’s stronger. He pulls me down onto his lap, causing Lena to stop what she’s doing briefly. He doesn’t care that he has inconvenienced two people.
“What’s your fucking problem?” His breath brushes the side of my neck, tantalizing me. It shouldn’t. But memories of last night flash behind my eyes and I can’t stop them even if I tried. “Hmmm? Oh, come on. Been waiting for you to go silent for years, don’t stop talking now.”
I turn to him, finally. We’re so close that my eyes need to cross inward just to maintain contact. I fail and they fall to his mouth. “You could have died.”
“That’s why you’re mad?” he whispers, leaning forward and pulling the flesh of my neck between his teeth.
I push him away from me, but he sinks his teeth into my skin and sucks it into his mouth. “Fine, I’ll get your scotch.”
He releases me, and when I stand, his hand lands on my ass with a slap. “Good girl.”
I ignore him, making my way toward the cabinet in the kitchen and reaching for a bottle that has the word Scotch across it, bringing it down onto the table. Lena is already diving into the wound with a pair of pliers. Brantley’s resting his head back against his chair. His eyes are closed, but other than that, he doesn’t look to be in pain. He looks asleep, peaceful even, completely oblivious to the fact someone is stabbing a fresh wound with a set of pliers.
“Did you give him an anesthetic?” I ask, twisting off the lid to the bottle of scotch. “He looks asleep.”
Lena snorts, finally pulling out a silver bullet. “No. I didn’t. That’s what that is for.” She points to the bottle in my hand and I jolt forward.
I bring the bottle to my lips and take a small swig, allowing the burn to settle on my tongue. I take another swill and slowly lower my lips to his. I don’t know if he’ll take it, but I’ve had a little too much to drink tonight and I’m feeling overwhelmed with my emotions right now, so I’m acting erratically. His lips touch mine, and for a brief second, I think he’s going to leave me hanging, but he doesn’t. His mouth opens, and I relax my jaw to allow the liquid to pour from my mouth to his. Once he’s taken it all, I sink my teeth into the cushion of his lower lip and slowly drag back.
