Page 71 of Business vs. Pleasure

There was a long pause. “W’s wr’ng?”

Oh, where to begin? “What do you remember?”

Ricardo’s brow furrowed again. “Um…”

August smoothed his thumb over the lines. “Slow down, I can smell the smoke coming off your cogs from here. It’s not important right now, you just need to⁠—”

“The lakeshore.” Ricardo’s eyes went wide, and the monitors began to beep more insistently as his vitals picked up. “NightRaven. I was shot.” His gaze roved over all he could see of August. “You?”

“I’m fine,” August said. “He ran when the cops got close, remember?”

“A… a boat?”

“Yeah, I got us to a boat.” There was a lot more to say about that process, but August left it there for now. “And then⁠—”

The door swung open. “Ah, he is awake already!” Their nurse came in, beaming in teal scrubs and sensible white sneakers, her hair pulled back in a high, tight braid. “Your husband warned me you might be an early riser, Señor Torralba.”

Ricardo looked at August as if to say “Why the fuck is she using our real names?” while the nurse began checking him over.

Yours was compromised and I was out of my mind with worry and I gave them the first ID I had on hand connected to our offshore accounts so we could afford this shit and it’s our actual ID, so sue me!

August knew his message had gotten across when Ricardo just scowled and stared at the ceiling instead of continuing the nonverbal argument with his eyebrows and a forceful finger poke.

“Things are looking very good,” the nurse went on, ignorant of or ignoring their silent discussion. “I’ll let the doctor know to come and tell you more about the surgery and your recovery, but your husband knows everything already, so maybe he can start.” She winked at August, who smiled back with as much charm as he had on hand. It didn’t do to irritate the nurses. “In the meantime, you can—” Her phone went off, and she frowned and glanced down at it. “Oh, hmm.”

August froze. “Hmm?”

“It’s from security. Apparently we’re under lockdown. Some disturbance in the front lobby.” She shook her head. “We should be fine up here, but—” A new message came through. She sighed. “I have to leave you momentarily, I’m sorry. The charge nurse will be at the main desk, but the rest of us have been called into a quick meeting. I will be back as soon as possible.” She quickly walked Ricardo through the button that would deliver his high-octane painkillers, then left.

“Well.” August sighed and rolled his neck out. “It looks like he’s here.” At least he waited until the surgery was over.

“August…”

“Don’t worry.” He stood up and fussed with Ricardo’s canula to distract himself from the throbbing ache in his feet. “There are only two ways up to this floor if you’re not Spiderman, and the elevator and stairs are right beside each other. I can monitor both at the same time.” He pulled the gun out from where he’d tucked it behind the plant in the corner and brought it to the bed.

“Just in case,” he said, and watched with satisfaction as Ricardo managed to reach out and take it on his own.

Ricardo frowned. “Light.”

“One round left and counting,” August agreed. “So make it count if you do have to use it, it’s the only gun we’ve got.”

It didn’t take long for Ricardo to puzzle through that. “Shit.”

“Exactly.” August leaned over and kissed the top of his head. “Don’t worry, you won’t need it. I’ll take care of things.”

Ricardo’s free hand came up to fist in his top before he could pull away. “Just stay,” he said hoarsely. “Stay here, let him come to us.”

August shook his head. “The sitting duck strategy has worked zero times against this guy, no way. With our luck, he’d just find a way to set the room on fire while we were both in it. I’ll be fine.” He couldn’t let himself consider anything else.

Ricardo’s face was a perfect blank, which usually meant he was feeling so many things that his poor, repressed mind didn’t know how to sort through them all. August smiled at him. “I’ll be back soon, honey.” He turned and left before Ricardo could say anything to that, closing the door behind him.

The hallway was gently lit at this time of night, the glossy white floor and cream walls so pristine August could almost imagine he was in a hotel instead of a hospital. He walked slowly down to the desk by the elevator and stairs, where a single nurse was sitting and keeping an eye on the occupied rooms. A quick glance told him that one of her monitors showed camera feeds from the main ICU floor, the pharmacy—go figure—and the elevator.

How convenient.

August gave her a charming grin as she looked up. “Hola, Enfermera Sanchez.”

“Hola, Señor Morrison.” She began to say more in Spanish, but he held up his hands.