Page 100 of Say it Ain’t So

That night, Joss and I clung to each other a little harder. We savored every touch, every kiss, because what happened to Kelly was a reminder of just how fragile life was. I was more determined than ever to do whatever I could to take care of my wife, and I’d ensure not a day would go by where she wouldn’t know how much I loved her.

Two days after her accident, Lee made an appearance back at work, and when I heard his deep voice, I hobbled back from the bathroom as fast as I could.

I should have run the other way.

“Lee Bridgewater?” a male voice called out, and I pulled my attention from the hallway floor.

Van’s friend, that little FBI agent that had been sniffing around, was standing in front of Lee. The problem wasn’t just her, though. The problem was the five other men coming in the door.

One of them strutted toward me, an evil smile on his lips. “Rylan Dennis? You’re both under arrest for the murder of Donald Baker.” He motioned to his men, and they rushed my way.

I stepped back as one of them pulled out a pair of handcuffs and grabbed my hand. One of my crutches fell and I reached out, trying to steady myself. But the agent’s arm was the only thing I could grasp.

The minute I touched him, the other agents drew their guns. I raised one hand, trying to show I was unarmed, but my other crutch fell, hitting the first agent before he tossed it and me off his arm.

There was no way I could keep my balance. Even if I hadn’t been pushed, standing on one leg was still not something I excelled at right now. I fell. My head smacked the floor before I was tackled by three men. One landed on my leg, and I swore I blacked out. Because when I came to, I was face first on the floor, an unfamiliar female voice yelling, “Get him out of here!” while Joss screamed in the background.

I couldn’t have struggled if I wanted to; the pain was too much. It was so overwhelming, even thoughts of saving Joss couldn’t break through the black fog. Bile crept up my throat and it took everything in me not to throw up as someone yanked me by the arms, trying to pull me off the floor.

“Stop!” Joss screamed, panic making her voice shrill. “He can’t bear weight on his leg!”

Those words came seconds before I did just that. That black fog turned to a curtain, and all the lights went out.

* * *

When I came to, I was seated on the couch. Had it not been for the excruciating pain in my leg and the sweat that spilled off me in waves, it could have been any other day. I blinked open my eyes, hoping to find Joss. Instead, I found Special Agent Hernandez perched on the coffee table, glaring down at me as she chewed on her bottom lip.

A heavy breath left her, and she sat up straight. “He’s awake.”

Suddenly, two men were at her side. Before they could reach for me, she held up her closed fist—a sign I recognized from working with Lee. They stopped in their places, though they didn’t look happy about it.

“We’re going to do this my way,” she commanded.

One of the men scoffed. “You really believe her?”

Hernandez stood and tossed a scowl over her shoulder at him as she gestured toward me. “Does he look like he’s able to run, Anderson?”

Anderson and the other man looked down at me, at the sweat that was starting to cool on my skin. An involuntary shiver raced through me before he answered with a peevish, “No.”

Hernandez looked back at me and put her hands on her hips. “We’re taking you to the station. Do you think you can get to the car with your crutches?”

The mere thought of it had my vision narrowing to pinpricks. I hadn’t taken my pain meds this morning. I was trying to wean myself off, because I hated how they dulled my senses and slowed my reaction time, more so than the occasional beer I drank. But I wasn’t supposed to put weight on my leg yet and what happened earlier was too much.

My voice broke when I croaked out, “I need my medicine.”

“What medicine?” the other man barked.

“My pain medicine!” The loud crack of my voice had both men reaching for the guns on their hips.

Hernandez lifted her hand again, and she pressed her lips into a straight line. “That’s not an option right now. You get yourself into the car and we’ll see what we can do at the station.”

“Carlson won’t approve it,” Anderson sneered. “You’re out of luck.”

She and the other agent shared a look, but neither of them said another word about it. They got me on my crutches and ushered me out to the car. Despite the cool air, the pain of moving had me sweating again.

* * *

The room they stuck me in was stale and bleak, and for some reason it smelled like coffee and cigarettes. I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, writhing in pain, when the door cracked open, and Special Agent Hernandez peaked inside. Her attention darted around the room, landing on the camera near the ceiling before falling on me.