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It feels like acid is running through my veins, burning and eating me up. As if my bones are melting from the inside out. Sweat is drenching my shirt, sticking it to my back as I try and fail to get comfortable.
I manage to enter the hospital under my own power, but I’m glad when a nurse with a wheelchair appears. Shivers wrack my body. Feel like I’m about to puke my guts out.
Raylin brushes away the sweat that’s dripping in my eyes. “He’s feverish,” she whispers.
“Gunshots are a bitch,” Hawk says.
Talking as if I’m not there. Not sure I am.
Infection. That might explain the chills, the pain and the sensation of being far away from my own body, watching it all unfold.
An x-ray, painful prodding and arm-wrapping later, plus a brand new, blue plastic cast on my arm and an antibiotic and painkiller twin injection, I have a pissed-off doctor in my face, asking me what the hell I was thinking, not driving directly to a hospital after the shooting.
He’s lucky I feel like roadkill, or I’d tell him where to shove it. I’m not sorry for anything. Not knowing what the key might open and if I’d find an answer or not would have killed me. I’d have put my fist through every fucking wall in this place by now.
“Sorry,” I tell him, cutting him off mid-rant, seeing Hawk coming back through the door. “I’m in a hurry. I’ll take the drugs to go.”
The doc sputters, face going red, and yeah I know I’m being a difficult ass, but my life is kinda fucked, and the fever from the infection isn’t helping. It sucks.
Except when Raylin is touching me, as she’s doing right now, leaning over, stroking my jaw. She’s the most potent drug there is.
“All patched up, buddy?” Hawk drawls, shoving his cell into the pocket of his jacket. “Broken arm, huh? Damn.”
“The wound’s infected,” the doctor says, straightening his coat. “Here’s a prescription for antibiotics.”
“Already got one, “I grumble. “Didn’t do jack.”
“We’ll grab them,” Hawk promises solemnly, raising a hand in vow. “Thank you, doc. Please don’t mind him, he’s been grumpy ever since he got shot. Why? Beats me.”
The doc rolls his eyes, throws his hands in the air and leaves us.
“What about Rook?” I call after him, but he’s already gone. “Damn.”
“Rook’s fine,” Hawk says. “He’s already checked out.”
“Fine. Then let’s go,” I mutter, pulling off the IV line and bracing myself one-handed on the chair back to get up. My knees waver but hold. “Need to talk to the lawyers.”
“Wait up.” Raylin grabs my broken arm and I hiss. “You’re bleeding.”
Where I pulled out the needle, blood is running down my arm. I rein in my impatience while she goes looking for some cotton wool and tape which she uses to cover the small wound, and we’re good to go.
“Got anything?” I ask Hawk as I drag my heavy feet out the door.
“The detective promised to send what he has any minute now. Meanwhile…” He nods at my cast. “Know what that means?”
“What?”
“Sponge baths.” He waggles his brows suggestively. “You lucky bastard.”
***
Sponge baths will have to wait.
We’re back in the chopper where at least the chances of getting shot are significantly less, and Hawk is reading something on his smartphone, a scowl so dark on his face it’d have scared off anyone but me.
“So.” I lift my chin in the direction of his cell as the chopper takes off over the buildings. “Info came in? What does it say?” I narrow my eyes at him. “Or is it your fucking girlfriend?”
“Girlfriend. Layla. The Hot Bod.”
