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“Fuck me sideways!”Connall exclaims as I blink back the heavy fog of sleep and try to get my bearings.
“Where am I?” I ask, groaning as I try to sit up. Bright white light pricks my eyes like a bullet straight to my brain, and I lift my hand to my head, feeling my scalp where Derby whacked me, hissing when I feel the tender skin and the stitches there.
“Joey’s place. He’s fixed you up. Got you on a drip as soon as we arrived and gave you a couple pints of blood. There was a moment I thought we’d lose you.”
“I’m hard to lose,” I reply, giving him a weak smile. “But man, do I feel like shit.”
“You look like shit too,” Joey says, stepping into his makeshift operating theatre and giving me a toothy grin, antiseptic and the scent of car oil following him into the room. The amount of times I’ve been in the back of his garage getting fixed up is crazy, though to be fair, he keeps this room spotless. I mean, I haven’t died of my injuries or a nasty infection yet. That’s got to count for something, right?
“Thanks, old man,” I reply, easing myself upright on the gurney. It creaks under my weight, and I feel every single bit of pain now that the adrenaline has worn off. Damn, I could chuck up. Swallowing back the queasiness, I wait for the room to stop spinning.
“What’s the damage?” Connall asks, frowning as he stares at me.
I have a vague recollection of calling him for help, but other than that I remember nothing after stepping outside of Tales. He’s a good man, one I can count on.The fucking best.
“Couple broken ribs, lots of bruising,” Joey says, drawing some clear liquid from a vial into a needle. He pulls it free, presses the plunger to get rid of any air bubbles, then stabs me in the bicep with it, dispensing the liquid.
“I fucking hope that’s painkillers,” I say, trying to laugh but failing.
He nods, pulling the needle free before throwing it in the medical waste bin. “I got you, pal.”
“What else?” Connall urges impatiently.
“The gash to his head was pretty fucking deep. I’ve sewn it up but you’ll need to keep an eye on him over the next few days. He was concussed pretty badly, and there’s always a danger of bleeding into the skull or swelling on the brain, but I think we’re good where that’s concerned.”
Connall swipes a hand through his hair. “Youthink?”
“Well, short of getting Beast into hospital for a CT scan, I can’t say any better than that.”
“No hospitals,” I say firmly. “Don’t need the law on my arse for offing Carter-fucking-Davidson.”
“Youwhat?!” Connall exclaims, looking from me to Joey. “Did you know about this?”
“First I’ve heard,” Joey says, casting a look my way. He knows I had my suspicions about Carter and his relationship with the King, so I imagine he’s putting two and two together and coming up with a pretty good assumption about what went down.
“Jesus fuck, Beast! What the hell happened last night?”
“Last night?” I question. “How long have I been out?”
“Ten hours, but stop avoiding the fucking question. Spill. I need to know so that I can give the family a head’s up. If a war is coming, they’ll want to back you.”
“There’ll be no war. We’re leaving.”
“You and Grim?” Joey asks, even though I’m pretty fucking sure it’s a trick question given she ain’t here and he’s not fucking stupid.
“No.” I shake my head, ignoring the pain in my chest that isn’t coming from my bullet wound, but is most definitely coming from my heart. I look at Connall. “When I saidwe, I was kind of hoping you’d come with me.”
“Me? Go where, exactly? And what about Grim?”
“Kate was the one who shot me,” I explain, leaning my head back against the gurney.
Joey whistles and Connall’s mouth drops open in shock. “Wait, back the fuck up a minute,” he says scraping a hand over his face. “You killed Carter Davidson and Grim shot you for it?”
“Pretty much,” I reply.
“But she’s in love with you,” he counters.
“He’s herdad, Connall.”
