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He pulled the syringe out, filling it with a local anesthetic and touching the top of Sadie's shoulder to warn her of what was coming. She winced when the needle slid into the oversensitive skin surrounding the wound, her face pinching as he withdrew and repeated the process until he'd surrounded the entire thing. Stepping back to put the anesthetic away, he grabbed his forceps, and a curved needle and suture out of his pack and set them on the counter. Sadie paled at the sight of them, but swallowed past her obvious fear.
The doctor poked the area around the wound, waiting for Sadie to react to what should have been agonizing pain. "Anything?" he asked.
"Anything what?" Sadie repeated.
"Guess not," Doc chuckled. "Hold still." He went to work, pressing cotton balls to the wound to soak up the blood that interfered with his view. He grabbed the forceps once he could see well enough, pressing them to the inside of the wound. Sadie winced lightly, drawing my attention back to her face.
"You okay?" I asked, worry filling me. There was no reason she needed to feel more pain.
"Yeah. It isn't bad," she said, but the focus on her face made me hesitate. "Really. Just let him get it over with."
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A glance back at the Doc confirmed he'd already found the bullet, wrapping the forceps around it and was working to wiggle it out of her flesh. "You were lucky," he said, dropping the bloody bullet on the counter finally.
The forceps, he set on the counter, not caring that they dripped blood everywhere. Sadie grimaced at the sight of it, still my compulsive monster despite the gaping hole in her shoulder.
As Doc started to stitch her up, I knew she'd be fine.
Compulsions lasted through bullet removal, evidently.
35
Sadie
He was driving me up the fucking wall. "I can move, you know. My legs work just fine," I snapped as he rushed to grab my phone off the counter where I'd left it. I unlocked it with my left hand, the thumb feeling awkward as I typed in the passcode. But the cast on my right wrist made it nearly impossible to use. Ivory’s message stared back at me, her fifth one in the last three hours. Asking if we needed anything.
Good grief.
"Shut up and deal with it," Enzo grunted. Rebel's head rested in my lap, my little monster clinging to me more firmly than ever with my injury. Between the three of them, I'd probably commit more murders by the time I healed.
It'd been a day. I'd lasted nearly an entire day of not being allowed to move, humoring Enzo's attempts to treat me like I couldn't function. But the time had come for it to end.
"Can I do something?" I begged, leaning forward to snatch the phone out of his hand as he brought it to me.
"Sadie, you were shot yesterday," he said, his voice exasperated as he glared at me. "Give me today. Tomorrow I'll take you to the estate, so Ivory gets off my ass about seeing you. We can sign the contract for the warehouse there."
"We're still buying the warehouse?" I asked, staring up at him.
"Do you not want it?" He looked at me like the thought had never occurred to him.
"It is kind of bloodstained," I admitted. "And full of bullet holes."
"We'd be tearing up all the floors and walls, anyway." He waved me off. "Besides, I think Rafe would say that building a business on top of the blood of your enemies is always a wise business decision."
"Should I be concerned that you are now taking advice from a man who Ryker says is psychotic?" I asked, quirking a brow at him. He chuckled, lifting Rebel's head off my lap to shift her over to the side. She growled in her sleep, such a ferocious little monster, as she resettled on the other side.
"I don't feel the need to suddenly burn my enemies alive, don't you worry," he said in what seemed to be his attempt at reassurance. "Except maybe Tiernan."
"No sign of him?" I asked. He shook his head.
"The warehouse may be where you nearly died, but it's also where you survived and where you first told me you loved me. It may not be pretty or perfect, but it's us. Gritty. Real. Ride or die," he murmured, reaching into the back of his pants.
Enzo took my left hand in his, raising it slightly so he didn't hurt my shoulder too much. The ring he slid onto my finger gleamed in stunning platinum. The teardrop shaped onyx stone sat nestled in a thin band of diamonds as he moved it past my knuckles. "I know you won't be able to wear it sometimes with fighting, but we'll get tattoos to go underneath it."
"Oh, we will?" I asked, turning a dry look his way as he left the ring there. My eyes immediately went back to the very simple and beautiful ring. I'd never thought I wanted an engagement ring, finding the shining gleam of diamonds so impersonal and predictable, but the stunning onyx gem might have converted me instantly.
"Yes," he said, touching his lips to the corner of my mouth. "You can pick the design. We'll get them the day we're married."
