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Striker glared at Mace who let out a sigh and turned. Like he planned to ogle an unconscious woman. He couldn’t wait until his best friend was well rested and back to his old self, just so he could knock some sense into the man.
…
Once Mace had turned his back, Striker relaxed some. He didn’t want anyone to see Friday naked or vulnerable. It took all of his self-control not to punch out the medic, and he was only doing his job. Doc took the sheet from the bed as Striker careful removed the button-up shirt he’d put on his woman. His hands shook, and his fingers fumbled. His mind was all over the place, making it hard to think straight. He didn’t dare hope that she was on her way back to him, but what else could the snake image mean?
“Turn her over,” Doc said once he’d studied the front of her body.
Only the fact his attitude was professional and detached kept him from earning a black eye. Slowly, gently, Striker rolled her onto her side with her back toward their medic.
“There!” Doc pointed at something low on her back.
Mace turned to see what had excited their medic and Striker snarled at him. With a shake of his head, the big guy held up his hands in surrender and turned back around.
“What is it?” Striker was fast running out of patience. He wanted answers now. And not just any answers, he only wanted good ones. Ones that told him she was coming back to him.
“See for yourself. Come around. I’ll hold her.”
When he glared, the medic amended. “One hand on her hip. Another on her shoulder. Just to keep her in place for you to see what I’m talking about.”
Reluctantly, he released his hold and circled the bed. There, in the small of her back, were the telltale puncture wounds of a snakebite.
He sucked in a breath.
“There’s no swelling,” Doc said. “No blackened skin, no redness. If the puncture wounds weren’t still there, we wouldn’t have known she’d been bitten. Here, cover her back up. I need to look at the blood.”
Striker eased Friday’s slight form back into the bed. She’d lost too much weight since she’d fallen asleep. There was only so much nutrition they could feed her using a tube. He hated seeing the tubes coming out of her, taking care of bodily functions until she could do it herself. Even though they kept her alive, they also reminded him that he’d failed her.
“It’s gonna be okay, bébé,” he cooed as he covered her up.
“Can I turn now?” Mace sounded like he was losing patience.
Tough. “Yeah, but be warned. I plan on hitting you later for being a pain in my ass.”
“Funny, I was thinking the exact same thing.” His best friend covered the distance to stand beside him. “What’s your rattler say about this?”
“He’s been hibernating, or whatever the hell you call it when a reptile decides to go to sleep for weeks. He ain’t been talking much.”
“You telling me he’s been asleep as long as Friday?”
Now that he thought about it, that did seem kind of strange. “You think there’s a connection?”
“Damned if I know what to think about any of this. She should have died weeks ago. Instead she looks like Sleeping Beauty waiting for her prince. Meanwhile, Doc says her bloodwork is showing weird results, and there’s a baby snake on her arm. We’re in the Twilight Zone, man. I have no clue what’s going on.”
He had a point. Striker traced his fingers down her arm. It was soft and warm and very much alive. That alone had been the one thing to keep him from losing his mind completely these past few weeks. The fact she hadn’t deteriorated in any way gave him hope. Blind, desperate, hope.
“I’m gonna have a word with the handbag.” And he was gonna be pissed if the rattler was holding out on him.
“Have at it.” His friend sat back in the chair beside the bed and stretched out his legs.
Striker focused inward and found the presence of the sleeping diamondback. Wake up, asshole! Did you bite Friday?
The reply was a testy grumble.
He didn’t have patience for this. Yo! Sam! You talking handbag, did you bite Friday?
Stop yelling.
He felt the reptile yawn and stir within him.
