Page 4 of Life Or Death

A hand on my shoulder jolts me awake. My body reacts before my mind catches up, and I’m on my feet in a flash. My hand goes for the knife I keep tucked into the inner pocket of my cut, eyes wild and searching for the threat. The nurse from earlier jumps back, her hands flying up in surrender as she stares wide-eyed at the knife in my hand.

“I’m-m-m s-s-sorry,” she stutters. “I . . . uh didn’t mean to startle you. Please don’t hurt me.”

Fuck.

My gaze flits to the bed, and I watch as Jess’s chest continues to rise and fall in rhythm with the beeping of the machines. The sight of her grounds me, and I release a ragged breath before lowering my hand slowly. My fingers flex around the knife as the adrenaline recedes. I blink hard and bring my attention back to the terrified nurse.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” My tone isn’t convincing, and the fact I’m still holding the knife does nothing to diffuse the situation either. Not wanting to startle her any more than I already have, I tuck the knife back into my pocket. Once it’s out of sight, she seems to take a deep breath, but her hands are shaking, and she looks like she’s two seconds away from bursting into tears.

“There is a woman here,” she blurts, and I narrow my eyes. “She’s demanding to see your wife. The hospital only allows one visitor at a time⁠—”

“Who is she?” I cut in.

“She says her name is Tori O’Brien.”

My muscles tense at the mention of Jess’s roommate. Tori has been working for me as a server at The Hideaway for quite some time now. Over the years, our interactions have been mostly limited, though. The club is a silent partner with a thirty percent stake in the restaurant, which leaves our partner, Max, overseeing all the daily operations and managing the staff. When Max suffered a massive heart attack, things changed. We took on a more prominent role while he recovered, and I started popping into the restaurant daily. I didn’t make a great impression on Tori.

The girl has a keen sense for detecting bullshit, and she saw right through me.

But she needs her job, so she keeps her mouth shut.

“Where is she?” I ask.

“She’s waiting in the family lounge on this floor. Down the hall to the left.”

I nod once and cast a final glance at Jess before exiting the room.

Not long after I told everyone here that I was Jess’s husband, they started badgering me with questions, asking me to make decisions regarding her care, demanding the details of her medical history that I don’t know because I’m not actually her fucking husband.

I’ve been lying through my teeth for days, making educated guesses that could potentially harm her further, all while trying to get in touch with Tori. I figured she might have intel on how to reach Jess’s next of kin. They seem close enough. Aside from being her roommate, she’s also the one who got Jess the job at The Hideaway, something I found out when I asked Max to fire Jess so I could hire her as a bartender at Rodeo Roundup.

It was a lot easier to keep tabs on my obsession when she was working at the bar my brothers and I frequented rather than the restaurant where my partner didn’t want me wearing my colors.

Tori was hip to that.

The girl raised all kinds of hell on her friend’s behalf, but like I said, she needs her job, and throwing an additional hundred dollars a week into a single mom’s paycheck has a way of keeping her quiet.

I push open the door to the family lounge and find Tori pacing the small room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She freezes when she sees me, her eyes flashing with anger. Then she’s on the move, her long brown ponytail swings from side to side as she charges for me. She’s a tiny little thing, but her size doesn’t stop her from rearing back her fist, and a second later her knuckles connect with the underside of my jaw.

“You son of a bitch,” she shrieks.

The obedient server who bites her tongue to keep her job is gone. An overprotective friend has replaced her, and since I deserve every ounce of her fury, I plant my feet and let her swing again. The second punch lands against my ribs, and soon those tiny fists are pummeling my chest. I can easily grab her wrists and make her stop—but I don’t. I’ve been carrying this guilt for days, and maybe letting Tori beat it out of me is the closest thing to penance I’m gonna get.

When she realizes I’ve been sitting here playing the role of a distraught spouse, making medical decisions I have no right to make, forking over cash to cover the bills that keep piling up, while her best friend lies in a coma covered in burns because of me, she’s going to lose her fucking shit.

If I were the praying type, I might send one up to the big man in the sky.

But I roll the dice and take hits instead because the flames of hell always catch up to the Devil’s greatest disciples.

CHAPTER TWO

LUCIFER

Ever the masochist, I remain still as Tori gets jabs in. For every physical blow she sends to my chest, she lands a verbal one too, calling me every name under the sun—from Satan himself to a deranged predator. Ultimately, it’s that last one that makes my control snap.

My tattooed fingers wind around her dainty wrist, halting her from delivering another punch.

“Enough,” I growl, my fingers flexing against her pulse point. She tries to snatch her hand free, but my grip tightens as my patience wears thin. The woman has every right to be mad, but there is a time and a place, and this ain’t it.