Page 63 of Business vs. Pleasure

Including the situation with his hand, which he was not pleased with. Heidi had assured him that the little asshole known as Tityus ocelote wouldn’t kill him or permanently damage his arm, but it would be a day or two before the worst of the symptoms backed off. His middle and ring fingers were partially numb, and his index finger—his damn trigger finger on his dominant fucking hand—was sore enough that it hurt to bend. Not ideal for driving, shifting, or knocking NightPigeon off this mortal coil.

“So how’d she take it?” August asked, emerging from the bathroom with a towel around his waist.

Ricardo indulged in a grimace. The hand situation was also not ideal for keeping August safe. Fuck, this was bad. Everything about it was⁠—

“Ricardo?” August tilted his head. “You all right? What did Eve say?”

Ricardo shook himself. “She’s… not happy, but she’s taking it seriously.”

August nodded. “Smart woman.”

“She always is.”

“Even if she has poor taste in men.”

Ricardo rolled his eyes and went to flip off August, but realized a second too late that he shouldn’t be relying on his right hand for things like that. “Fuck!”

August was at his side in a blink. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m…” Ricardo grimaced as he cradled his arm and tried not to jostle the icepack.

His husband’s face fell. “This is too dangerous. You can’t go into this with your hand like⁠—”

“I’m not letting you go in alone,” Ricardo snapped. “Absolutely not.”

August gave him a look that was somewhere between impatient and indulgent. “Ricardo.” He sat beside him on the bed and put his hand on Ricardo’s thigh. “When you were a Green Beret, would you have been sent out on a mission when you couldn’t operate your rifle?”

Ricardo avoided his gaze. Truthfully, yeah, he would’ve been sent out on a mission if he had two unbroken legs and his heart was still pumping blood—the Army wasn’t known for letting people call in sick—but he understood August’s point. Though Ricardo could shoot left-handed with reasonable accuracy—far more than the average marksman, but still less than he could with his right hand—he wouldn’t have been deployed as a sniper while either hand was out of commission. It was just too risky.

But in those scenarios, he was on a team of Green Berets. If he or one of the others had to be benched, there was someone else to step in and take his place. The mission would still go forward. The team would still move out with a full roster. He wouldn’t be leaving anyone vulnerable.

Finally meeting August’s eyes, he said, “If I don’t go with you, you’ll be alone.” He swallowed. “I’ve already watched you get drugged and kidnapped in a damn public park while I was too far away to do anything about it.”

August dropped his gaze, rolling his shoulders in what seemed like an attempt to mask a shudder. “That wasn’t your fault.”

“No, but it’s why I can’t let you go into this—whatever NightRaven has planned—alone.”

“And you think I can let you go into it when your hand isn’t functioning at a hundred percent?” August gestured at Ricardo’s injured hand. “It isn’t like we can ask NightChicken to postpone things until you’re healed, you know?”

Ricardo grunted. The last thing they needed was NightRaven even knowing about his injury. The fucker would capitalize on it for sure.

Which…

“Oh, shit,” August quipped. “You have that look that says you have an idea.” He inclined his head and grinned. “Spill it.”

Ricardo pursed his lips. “If NightRaven thinks one of us is injured, he’s going to try to take advantage. But he won’t come in with his guard up like he would if he thought we were both functioning normally.”

August furrowed his brow. “Aren’t wild animals most dangerous when they’re wounded?”

“Sure, but how many people look at someone on crutches or in a hospital bed and think they’re an immediate threat?”

“You mean besides me when someone is coming to commit sadistic acts involving my catheter?”

Ricardo rolled his eyes. “Changing your catheter is not a sadistic act.”

“Says the man who wasn’t getting a tire iron shoved up his pee-hole.”

“I’ve done my time in the ICU. Don’t change the subject.”