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The ride back to the hospital starkly contrasted with when they left. Riggs said a silent thanks to whatever power helped him to overcome his crappy mood.
He silently rephrased that gratitude. If there was anyone to thank, it was Georgie. Her kind nature and sense of humor turned his mood right around, and the afternoon passed too quickly.
Riggs would have argued against returning to the hospital had it not been for the pain. By the time they reached the elevator, the pain level had climbed to a twelve on a ten scale. He looked forward to some of the pain meds he’d complained about so bitterly.
“You’re pale. Is the pain that bad?” She asked as the elevator doors closed.
“It’s been better.”
“You don’t have to sugarcoat it. I need to know how bad it is to determine how much activity is too much or not enough. So, on a ten scale, how bad is it?”
“Two hundred?”
The frown that took shape morphed into a smile when he smiled. “A solid ten.”
“I’m surprised it’s not more. You did more moving today than normal.”
“Hopefully, not as much as I will do tomorrow. Between you and me, I’m getting tired of being here.”
“Well, it won’t be long before your next surgery. I spoke with Naomie last night, and she said she thinks the IMES will be ready for production in about two weeks, which means if all goes well, it will be ready when your surgery date arrives, and there won’t be a delay.”
“If I know Naomie, it’ll be ready ahead of schedule. She’s pretty amazing.”
“You’re not telling me anything I don’t know.”
The elevator chimed to announce their floor, and Georgie moved behind the wheelchair to help navigate it out of the elevator. Riggs didn’t expect her to stop when the doors opened and turned his upper body to get a look at her.
There was a look on her face that alarmed him. She appeared stricken. It was the only word that fit; he’d seen that expression too many times to count in his line of work.
“Josh! What are you doing here?”
“The better question is, where’ve you been? Oh wait, let me guess. You forgot our lunch date. Again.”
He then looked at Riggs. “And I suppose you’re the reason she keeps forgetting?”
Riggs had no clue how to respond since he didn’t know what the man was talking about, so he kept his mouth shut. That seemed to make things worse because the next words out of the man’s mouth were nearly a shout.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. She has always been a sucker for a lame duck, so I guess you’re the flavor of the month.” He turned his attention to Georgie. “You’ve got some fucking explaining to do.”
“I beg your pardon?” It was clear from her tone that she was angry.
“You heard me. I don’t remember giving you permission to go out with cripples when you’re supposed to be working. You want to explain to me what you think you’re doing?”
The tone of his voice and the disrespect he showed Georgie got under Riggs’ skin, and before he knew it, his mouth was in gear. “If you’re smart, you’ll watch your tone and show this woman the respect she deserves.”
“Or what? You’re going to crawl out of that wheelchair and hop over here on that one good leg and do what? Kick my ass?”
There were times when anger got the best of Riggs. Not often, and never on a mission. But when Josh followed those words with a scornful laugh, all he saw was red. Rage hit too fast and too hard. He was in motion before his mind caught up with his body.
With one shove, he propelled the wheelchair out of the elevator car. His good leg came up bent until he neared Josh, and then it shot out. It sounded like all the air in Josh’s lungs whooshed out in one gush. His body, which was folded over the foot, pressing against his gut, continued to bend forward as Riggs retracted his foot.
“I’ll—I’ll—fuck—” Josh wheezed, coughed, and fought for enough breath to croak, “I’ll fucking kick your ass.” He gasped again, sucked in air, and continued. “You fucking cripple.”
Georgie hurried to place herself between Josh and Riggs. “You need to leave,” she told Josh in a firm tone.
“I don’t recall asking your permission.”
“Josh, leave.”
