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And she was right. I was totally tripping. I felt the drugs streaming through my veins. That wasnotokay. Where was that nurse so I could get this drip stopped?
“Cops?” I asked, relaxing against the bed again.
“Yeah.” Hunter sat beside me, filling the chair until I thought I heard it creak. “Took some statements.”
“My brother.”
Hunter leaned forward. “Damon was there?”
“The ass monkey stole my register. Should be on the cameras.” I shifted in the bed, trying to find a position that didn’t hurt. “Cut that morphine off, man. I don’t want that shit.” Last thing I needed were my junkie genes to kick in and get me addicted to that crap.
I already drank too much, which was like playing Russian roulette with my DNA.
“Dude. You got stabbed. Knocked your head pretty good, too. I’d stay on that for a day or so.”
I reached for the IV, ready to yank that poison out.
“Whoa.” Hunter stayed my hand. “Fine. You’re a glutton for punishment. But let me get a nurse to do it.” He stood, shaking his head.
“Drey?” a female voice trickled through the thickness in my brain. Probably a nurse, though she sounded familiar…
Oh, Sarah.
Her bright green eyes came into focus, but her brown hair was shorter now…not the long, flowing locks I’d seen the other day. She took the seat Hunter vacated, only she filled it perfectly.
Like every curve of that luscious body.
Damn, even half-stoned and pain slicing through my arm I still craved her. The familiar scent of sugar and hard liquor swam over me. She was drunk? Again?
It couldn’t be much past one or two in the afternoon, how was she drunk already? At least she wasn’t off with some guy. I was so sick of seeing her hit on the guys at the club—even more, leaving with a different one every night.
Not that I could be with her anyway. I refused to be another notch on her bedpost. I used to have a notched bedpost and it got me into a lot of trouble.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, glancing at the door. Hunter had about four minutes to get back here with a nurse before I ripped this IV drip out of my arm and walked out of here. I hated hospitals.
“I…was worried.”
That earned a hard look from me. “About…”
“You, Drey,” she said, shaking her head. “Bill made it sound like you were dead.”
I laughed, but immediately regretted it. What was going on with my side? Was there a freaking knife in me? Pulling the thin cover aside, I found white gauze taped to my skin. That asshole got me twice? I didn’t remember that.
Too distracted by my stupid brother, probably. Damon! If I got my hands on him, I was going to kick his ass.
“Yeah, well, Bill’s a drama queen,” I said. “Store okay?”
“Fine.” She rested her hand on my arm, then pulled it away like I’d burned her. “Um…that dude, Jeremy—”
“Owner.”
“Yeah. He’s the one who called 911. Why didn’t you?”
“Didn’t think it was that bad. Thought I could hold on for six minutes for Bill to get me.”
“Six minutes. Funny. He said the same thing.”
Hell yeah. Bill had pulled me out of my fair share of shitstorms at that store before. Before I’d even started working there. It was like a magnet for hazing and initiation. One of the reasons I started working there once I got my head on straight. Which Bill so kindly kicked straight.
