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When the doctor left, I texted Teddy and Golden Boy to let them know I was with Mandy, got settled in a damned uncomfortable hard plastic chair. And waited.
And waited.
And fucking waited.
Finally, around two in the morning those pretty green eyes popped open and I could breathe again.
Chapter 17
Mandy
“Do you really have to do this now? She’s been awake for five fucking minutes!” I could hear Savior’s angry voice and I doubted he was talking to the doctors or nurses like that.
“Sir, your girlfriend was the victim of a crime, don’t you want us to find the perpetrators. If there are even perpetrators,” a taunting voice said that I assumed belonged to one of Vegas’ finest.
Insert eye roll if you want.
I appreciated Savior fighting for me, but it was unnecessary. I woke up some time in the middle of the night, not that the rest was all that peaceful with the nurses waking me up every hour to ask me ridiculous questions: What day is it? Who’s the president? Two questions guaranteed to piss me off. Somehow I came out of that fracas with no brain damage, just a few bruises, cuts and fractures that would keep me out of work for who knew how long. Maybe I’d find out if the doctor ever made his way to this side of the hospital.
“I’m awake,” I called out to stop the damn pissing contest outside my door.
The door opened and Savior popped his head in, blue eyes looking stark against his pale skin and dark hair. “How are you feeling?”
“Not as good as I would be if two gorillas weren’t yelling outside my door.” And if I hadn’t gotten my ass stomped by a bunch of pissed off bikers. “Come on in and bring your friend.”
His lips twitched but Savior refused the smile and stepped inside, not bothering to hold the door for the two men I pegged as detectives based on their suits. One wore an ill-fitting brown suit like a cop from the seventies and the other, well he looked like a mob lawyer.
“They want to ask you some questions,” he said reluctantly and sat in the chair where I found him when I woke up.
“Alone,” mob lawyer said with a frown.
“He wasn’t involved so I’d rather he stay.” I didn’t like cops and I didn’t trust them, but I knew they were only doing their jobs right now. Still, I needed backup and Savior was it. He grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze to let me know he was there.
The detecti
ves stood at the foot of the bed wearing twin scowls meant to intimidate. “Can you tell us what happened, Ms. Sutton?”
I nodded and let out a sigh, wincing as the pain lit up my ribcage.
“Shit that hurts!” I yelled without thinking. I guessed my ribs didn’t get the memo that they weren’t broken because those fuckers hurt. “I was leaving work when three guys approached me in the parking lot of Knead, it’s the restaurant where I work. They had on jackets that said Roadkill MC, if that helps.” I paused because talking and breathing? Not so easy to do with bruised ribs, it turned out.
Seventies detective looked at me with a look of disbelief. “What business do you have with them?”
I barked out a laugh that was worth the fucking pain. “I have no business with them, but someone I knew when I lived here as a kid promised them I would do something I don’t do anymore.” I flashed a look at the detectives and then at Savior. There was no point trying to hide it anymore. It would come out anyway. “A woman I knew back when I was a kid, she helped me get a fake ID when my brother’s tour in Afghanistan was extended. I needed to pay bills, get food and stuff.”
“Where were your parents,” mob lawyer asked.
“Dead, for years at this point. Anyway, I saw this video online about counting cards and it seemed easy enough. I trained myself to do it and I only took enough to pay the bills and have some cushion, but Krissy wanted more.”
Mob lawyer interrupted me, giving me a chance to slow down and ease the pain. “Who’s Krissy?”
I hadn’t made it clear? “The so-called friend who got me the ID. She wanted a cut in exchange for the favor.”
His eyebrows rose in understanding as if I’d finally explained nuclear fission to him. So I continued.
“After a while it became too much, too risky. I got my acceptance letter for culinary school, hopped on a bus and never looked back.” I sighed deeply a few times, to breathe through the pain. “Until I returned six months ago to bury my brother and then three months later when I took the job at Knead.”
Both of them nodded as they jotted down notes. “And the beat down?”
