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She looks away and says, “Dixon, Fletch, help me get him to the clubhouse, we’ll put him in the spare room.”
God. That fuckin room.Might as well justletme die. Dixon and Fletch take my arms and help me to my feet. “No,” I force out the word. “Not the spare room. Take me home.”
They look at Lara for permission.
“I said,” and I fight back the pain to play the tough guy. “Take me home.”
“Okay,” Lara shrugs and throws her hands up. “Put him in the van—carefully—and take him home. I’m going to grab some supplies and then I’ll meet you there.
Thank fuck.
Now that I’ve got my brothers with me I can relax a little. I let them take care of me and allow myself to waft in and out of consciousness.
There’s a series of motions to perform, but they take all my weight and make it seamless.
Dixon asks, “Who did this to you, man? We have to get them back.”
I slur the words, “I didn’t see.”
“Where did it happen at least?” Fletch asks.
“I don’t remember.”
That’s the end of the conversation. They understand what I mean. It means—I’m not going to tell.
The load me into the back of the van and lay me down on my back. Dixon stays with me and Fletch drives.
I close my eyes and rest, only coming alert when a bump on the road causes pain to flare in me.
When the van stops, Dixon finds my keys and they let me in, taking me straight to my bedroom to lay me down.
I close my eyes and wait. I’m not sure how much later it is, but it feels like only minutes till Lara’s hand is on my forehead and she’s saying, “We’re going to take your clothes off so I can examine you properly.”
I grunt my approval, too drained to move or help or do anything useful at this point.
I think Dixon and Fletch help, but I’m not sure…and while it’s happening I go under.
I have half-awake dreams of being wiped, injected and wrapped…I fade in and out…till I fade away…
Chapter Fifteen
Lara
Stupid Chase with his dumb face and stupid injuries!
And seriously, theHippocratic Oath?Do no harm? I’m tempted to poke him a few extra times with the needles, but I’m supposed to be professional.
A medical practitioner, not a Voodoo Priestess.
When Chase stumbled in at the bar, Stacey phoned me asking me to come right away, which I did. Dixon and Fletch just happened to walk in five minutes later and that’s how the whole thing happened.
I called Dom and told him it was an emergency and that I needed my car keys, and to my shock—he told me where they were.
Now, I’m waking up in a chair next to Mr. Buff’s bed after spending all goddamn night here!
The guy is a mess, but not the kind of mess that can’t be cleaned up. I’m a doctor in theory, but I haven’t done residency yet. So yes, I was scared at first, but I used common sense and my best judgement.
I adjusted for his weight and age and the fact that he drinks like a fish, then pumped him full of muscle-relaxants and sedatives.
