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“I think a lot of things don’t add up,” Zach reiterated.
When Lynn called, Zach put him on speaker, and we came to the same conclusion.
“We need to go talk to that prisoner. He might be the only one who knows what in the hell is going on,” I said to the group as a whole.
Trouper nodded his head. “I can fly us there and back pretty fast.”
“I’ll stay here,” Zach said. “Relay any news that I hear. I know a few people. They won’t mind me being around.” He paused and looked at me. “She’s going to be in surgery, and then the recovery room for hours. No rush.”
I nodded once, even though each time I moved farther away from the doors she’d disappeared through, it felt like my heart got heavier and heavier.
“Okay,” I murmured.
Trouper smacked me on my shoulder. “Let’s go.”
Only, when we got there, nothing happened as we’d planned.
The moment we got to the police station, I knew that something was wrong. Something bad had happened—again—and we wouldn’t be getting our answers.
I walked up to Lynn, purpose in my stride.
“What happened?” I asked.
Lynn’s eyes were on fire when they met mine. “Guess who is conveniently dead.”
He didn’t have to say the prisoner’s name for me to understand.
We wouldn’t be getting any answers out of that prisoner.
Not today.
Not ever.
Son of a bitch.
CHAPTER 22
Guys, she just wants rough sex, forehead kisses, deep conversations, and Chick-Fil-A.
-Trick’s secret to a happy woman
SWAYZE
Everything, and I do mean everything, hurt.
My hair. My fingernails. My toes. My tongue.
If it had nerve endings, it hurt.
And God, it was really, really hard to open my eyes.
I’d been trying for what felt like forever.
I groaned, turning my head sideways, and obviously catching the attention of someone because the soft cacophony of words that’d been in my ears since I’d started to wake suddenly quieted.
There was no more speaking until I heard the sweetest, raspiest, sexiest voice on the planet say right into my ear, “You awake, baby?”
I tried to smile, but it hurt too bad to do so.
That’s when I realized that my tongue was feeling something super, duper weird.
“I’m missing a front tooth,” I said, voice cracking and breaking on every second word.
There was a long pause from the man beside me and then, “Yeah. You’re missing two of them, actually. One front tooth, and one back molar. I’ve already been in contact with an oral surgeon. The next time that you go under surgery, he’s going to repair your teeth.”
I would’ve smiled had I been capable.
“All right,” I heard a feminine voice say that I didn’t know. “I realize that y’all want to catch up, but we need to check a few things in private. Everyone out.”
Trick refused to go, but when he started to get really heated, I said, “I can’t see you. And my throat hurts like a motherfucker. But will you please, please, please go get me a cup of coffee?”
“She’s NPO,” the feminine asshole, also known as the nurse that was kicking people out and being very stern about it, said.
“What’s that mean?” I mumbled.
Because I didn’t care what it meant.
“Nothing by mouth,” Zach’s familiar voice said. “And we’ll talk to her doctors. You go get the coffee. Even if she can’t have any of it, you could use some.”
Could he? I couldn’t see him to know.
“I’ll be back with your coffee, baby,” he rasped, pressing his mouth to my neck. It didn’t hurt there. “I won’t be long.”
I smiled.
Or tried to.
Honestly, at this point, I wasn’t quite sure whether my body was doing what I asked it to be doing.
The boys left then, and I wanted to weep when I knew they were out of the room.
Turning to the nurse, I said, “I’m in so much pain.”
She made a soothing sound in the back of her throat.
“Knew I needed to get him out of here to get anything out of you,” she chattered. “You were so stiff. I had a feeling you were in pain but wasn’t sure if you’d actually tell me with him right here.”
She was good.
I’d give her that.
“Oh, and there’s another man here to see you.” She bustled around the room, and I felt something on my leg move. Then jolt. I gasped as pain rolled through me. “Sorry, dear. But we have to move you every thirty minutes or so. Don’t want you getting a bed sore. And your leg is in traction. You’ll be this way for at least a week. It’s not going to be fun, but you’re a trooper.”
Not going to be fun was right. Just moving upward and backward in the bed was agonizing.
“That medication I gave you should be hitting you right about now,” the nurse said. “I’m going to clean your eyes. Maybe it’ll help you get them open.”
I licked my lips as I tried to focus on anything but the pain.
