Page 40 of Unplanned Target

“Is he fucking down already?” A familiar, but unexpected, voice carries into the space.

I turn to see Eli, Alaskan Security’s resident physician jogging toward us. I shake my head a little as he crouches down at Butch’s side, confused by what I’m seeing. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Pierce called me. He had a feeling Butch was going to sign himself out against medical advice, and wanted me on-site so I could monitor his recovery.” Eli lifts one of Butch’s lids. “What was going on right before he went down?”

“Owen punched him.” Becca’s answer is simple and concise. To the point, just like everything else she says.

I wouldn’t normally mind, but right now I would’ve appreciated a little nuance, because Eli’s looking at me like I’m a monster.

“He deserved it. I’ll explain it to you later.” I crouch down beside him. “You want me to help get him somewhere?”

Half an hour later, Eli and I have Butch laid up in the bare-bones medical unit. We are still very much in the process of fleshing this location out, but it does have the basics. Hopefully, that’s all Butch needs right now.

After checking his vitals, starting an IV, and beginning a saline drip, Eli calls Heidi to see if she can get all Butch’s records from the hospital. Once that’s done, Eli follows me out into the hall, leaving a still mostly unconscious Butch with Becca. Closing the door, he positions himself in a spot where he can continue observing through the small rectangular window as he asks, “Why exactly did you punch someone as injured as he already is in the face?”

A lot would go into answering that question. And most of it is private information, I don’t know whether or not Miranda would want me to share. So I keep it as simple as I can. “He insulted his sister in the worst possible way.”

Eli purses his lips, head tilting. “Is there a reason you were so upset he was a dick to his own sister?”

Again, I decide to stick with the simplest answer. “Yes.”

There are a number of reasons, actually. None of them I intend to go through in detail. Not with Eli. Not with anyone.

Not until I figure out what I plan to do about them.

Eli nods. “Fair enough.” He takes a deep breath, blowing it back out. “Honestly, I’m not sure you did any more damage than he’s done to himself by leaving the hospital so early.” Eli glances through the window. “It seems like this guy’s gonna be a real pain in the ass.”

“Oh, he absolutely is.” I shrug. “But he’s also going to be a real asset to the team, so we’ve gotta take the good with the bad.”

Eli scrubs at his face with one hand, rubbing his eyes. “I guess we’ll see how it works out.” He drops his hand, leveling me with his gaze. “Just do me a favor, and don’t punch him again until I get him stable.”

“I’ll avoid him.” I can’t promise I won’t punch him, but as long as I stay away from Butch, the chances of that go down greatly. “I’m going to check on his sister and make sure she’s doing okay.”

Eli’s lips curve in a knowing smile. “Good luck. In my experience, most women don’t love it when you assault their family members.”

“I guess we’ll see how it works out.” I turn Eli’s words back at him.

There’s a good chance Miranda’s going to be pissed. There’s also a chance, she didn’t actually see what happened. I’m leaning towards that as the most likely possibility, because she probably would’ve run to her brother’s aid. And if she didn’t see it, that gives me a chance to explain myself before admitting to my actions.

I cut through the main building, passing a few of the tradesmen working on the various offices and community spaces as I go. Pierce really isn’t fucking around when it comes to getting this place fully finished, and on any given day, there’s dozens of people doing everything from hanging sheet rock, to installing flooring and trim.

Add in the houses being built in the small, adjacent neighborhood, and there’s a lot of noise and a lot of chaos. At some point, I plan to add to it. I do want my own home, and I’m starting to think I want it sooner rather than later. Not that I have the first clue what I want.

But maybe I know someone now who might not mind helping me with that. Someone who knows how to make a house into a home.

Someone who might be really fucking pissed off when she finds out I punched her brother in his already fucked-up face.

I reach the door to my room—the one Miranda currently occupies—and softly knock. If she’s asleep, I don’t want to wake her. A lot has happened, and it doesn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon, so if she needs to rest, I’m not going to be the one to interrupt it.

But when the door to Miranda’s room abruptly opens, she doesn’t look rested. She also doesn’t look sleepy. The expression on her face is something I can’t fully identify and don’t really have the opportunity to process before she’s grabbing the front of my shirt and dragging me through the opening into the suite I claimed when we first came here.

Once I’m inside, she slams the door and shoves me back against it. “You just punched my brother in the face.”

Her tone is filled with accusation, but she doesn’t seem pissed, exactly. More annoyed.

Which might be a good sign. Hopefully it means she doesn’t hate me.

“I—”