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Johnny eyed me, frowning at the lack of arguments from me. His gaze stopped at the wrapped arm and the IV attached to it. “I don’t like this.”
“And I don’t like the shit you put me through,” I muttered. “But I do it anyway.”
He scoffed. “I’m not risking my life by getting shot at.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “No, you just try to end it every time I turn my fucking head.”
The lack of a comeback made me sigh. “Listen, I know what you think. Yes, I’m getting you into dangerous shit. Yes, I’m in no condition to leave. And it will fucking kill me to get out of this bed. But I have to.”
He sighed at my stubbornness but nodded and got to his feet. “What do you want me to do?”
“Be the fucking distraction.”
He grinned. “I’ll do my best.”
*
Getting out of the bed and getting clothes on was just as bad as I imagined it to be. The IV needle left a trail of blood over my arm as I tore it from my skin. The red stained the light greenthingI wore as I one-handed managed to tuck the corners into my pants to make it appear more like a regular shirt than a fucking hospital gown.
Screams and shouts from somewhere out there let me know Johnny did his job just fine. Peeking out into the corridor, I found it blocked. Staff and visitors alike flocked around him, and despite the heavy fog my mind was trapped in, the urge to clear the fucking crowd and get the fans out of his face was hard to ignore. It was so deeply ingrained in me I could do it in my sleep.
My whole body was heavy and disoriented as I slipped into the corridor and shuffled in the opposite direction. To my surprise I barely felt the pain. Whatever they gave me it was damn strong. A group of nurses came around a bend, walking straight toward me. They were chatting, eyes on a folder in their hands. If they saw me… An abrupt halt, and a quick turn into an empty room let me know I wasn’t as free of the pain as I believed. If I didn’t move the goddamn arm, I was fine. But even pumped full of morphine, the fucking shoulder throbbed with a deep ache the moment I forgot to keep it immobilized.
When the corridor cleared, I slipped out and continued, aimlessly following the green sign that pointed the way toward an emergency exit. I should have planned this better. I couldn’t even think straight to know where I was going.
Johnny caught up once I reached the bottom of a staircase, ready to push a heavy door labeledonly staffopen.
“How did you find me?” I asked in confusion, surprised to hear my words coming out slurred, as if I was drunk. The labyrinth of corridors and turns was a maze. I was lucky I found the exit before someone found me.
“You left a trail of breadcrumbs.” Johnny gestured toward the floor and the drops of blood still sliding off my arm.
Muttering curses under my breath, I reached for the door, but Johnny’s hand grabbed me. “The fuck do you wanna go in there for?”
Before I could tell him to get off me and do as I fucking said, he pulled me in a different direction, leading me by the healthy arm. I tried to keep up, to not stumble as his speed overpowered my energy. Everything seemed to blur around me. The room started to spin. “Not so fucking fast,” I breathed.
“You’re fucking drugged?” Johnny caught me as I staggered, then grinned at my unstable attempt to appear normal.
“Dick,” I muttered, and he chuckled.
We stumbled through a door into what looked like a garage. Ambulances lined up one wall, and cars against the other.
As we stood there, an ambulance came rolling into the lot. It parked, and a young driver jumped out, whistling to himself.
It wasn’t until I noticed Johnny approaching the guy, that I realized what he had in mind.
Normally I would have decked him for trying something so reckless, but now all I could do was watch as he chatted the guy up, smooth-talking him into letting usborrowthe vehicle.
The guy looked torn, wanting to please Johnny, but not daring to risk his job. Sirens somewhere in the distance reminded me oftime. Time I didn’t have to fucking lose. Mr. X could be stalking the halls right now, searching for me. If he found me, and Johnny… My safety I could risk, I was fucking used to it. But not Johnny’s. He already risked too much by being here.
I stumbled over to the driver and slammed a fist into his jaw. He hit the ground and didn’t get up.
Johnny let out a shocked breath but didn’t ask. Instead, he dove for the keys, snatching them from the guy’s hand and sprung toward the vehicle once he had them. “Get in!”
I did.
“He was gonna say yes,” Johnny shouted to overpower the sound of screeching tires as he turned the car around and hit the gas. “Hold on!” The car cleared the garage, skidded out onto the road, and slalomed through the rows of cars until the traffic grew less and fewer between.
“If you fucking crash—” I warned, having his driving skills in mind. It wasn't too long ago he drove his car into a fucking roadblock and nearly died. Intentionally. Trusting him behind the wheel was bound to get us both killed—or straight back into the ER.
