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I roll my eyes again. “Whatever.” Instead of fighting, I follow them inside the exam room and stand in the far corner, nibbling my bottom lip.
Inside the room, Wilder and Nova chat like two accountants at the water cooler while I’m freaking out about, well, about every damn thing. “So what happened?”
“Nothing much. Caught a stray bullet.”
I snort at his casual words. Caught a stray bullet as if he’d just slapped a mosquito against his skin. “Caught a stray bullet,” I mimic back childishly. “What about the other bullets, Wilder? Where did they end up?”
Wilder sighs. “It’s going to be handled long before you get back home, Maven.” He winces when Nova pours clear liquid over his arm, his blue eyes settling on mine. “I promise.”
I yank my hand from his free one. “I don’t need more false promises, Wilder. How can you keep me safe when you can’t even keep yourself safe?”
“I’m safe,” he grunts in pain when the needle pierces his flesh.
I shake my head. “No, you’re lucky. You went in there guns blazing all by yourself without knowing if your biker brothers had your back, and you came out bleeding.”
“You should see the other guy,” he jokes.
“All done,” Nova says a little too loudly as if to remind us that he’s still in the room. “Change the bandage regularly for the next few days and keep the wound clean. You know the drill.”
Wilder nods and reaches for my hand again. “See, babe? I’m all good. Patched up just like new.” He flashes a wide smile that I find far too charming for my current mood.
And the sight of his bulging bicep covered in ink is wreaking havoc on my ability to stay mad, especially when I notice the bullet barely missed the edge of his tattoo.
“Thank you, Nova, for stitching him up against his will.”
Nova laughs. “Tough guys are the hardest to treat. I dealt with tougher in the Army.”
I frown. “You guys were in the Army together?”
Wilder shakes his head. “We overlapped for a few years on different sides of the country, but we didn’t meet until after.”
I look to Nova once more and wonder how a man like him, a doctor, is mixed up with a bikerclub,but I don’t want to disrespect him by asking.
“He’s going to be all right?”
“If he takes these antibiotics, absolutely.” He hands Wilder a slip of paper and pushes him toward the door. “Take themallthis time. Now get home and get some rest. Both of you.”
Now that the trouble is over, for now anyway, I’m cold and shaking and exhausted. I feel dirty and old, and I really do just want to go back to my cage. “That won’t be a problem.”
Wilder wraps an arm around me to stop me and frowns. “You all right, babe? You’re pale as a ghost.”
I laugh. “You charmer, stop,” I deadpan.
“Seriously, what’s wrong?”
I laugh loudly and shake my head. “What isn’t wrong, Wilder? I’m scared, and I’m filthy, and I’m so fucking hungry I could eat a plank of wood. There are probably bullet holes buried in my walls, and who knows how much blood.”
“The bullets are in your door, actually.”
I smack his chest. “Not helping.”
“Sorry,” he laughs. “How about we get you something hot to eat and a hot shower too? In any order you choose.”
My body relaxes against his reluctantly as the weight of the day starts to slide off my back. “Food sounds good, but can you have it delivered to my cell?”
Wilder tosses his head back and lets out a loud roar of laughter. “If you stop calling it that, I will have something hot and delicious delivered to your door.”
“Cage? Prison? What would you like me to call it?”
