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1
Carter Grange
If only Benji would shut the hell up so the pain in my head can subside, that would be a fucking godsend. He is acting like my personal bodyguard, currently shouting at everyone who comes near me as we make our way into the emergency department.
Clearly, he is worried about me, but he doesn’t need to be. Even though my heart is racing, and my chest feels tight, my anxiety at an all-time high. Though he doesn’t know that bit; just that I’m injured.
This hospital is not my usual medical clinic, but it’s closer to the warehouse where my fight was. So, Benji, in his world of panic, sped his way here through the dark streets of Philly, and now the bright lights beaming off the stark white walls is enough to blind me.
The one time my boys aren’t with me and the whole night goes to shit.
“Benji, slow down. I’m fine,” I grit through my teeth, as he powers through the mass of people here on this manic Saturday night.
“Nico tasked me with taking care of you. So, I am doing what he asked, and he said to bring you here,” Benji spits out, his eyes laser focused on our surroundings.
Although it is rare that I need a hospital visit after a fight, it does happen on occasion. Usually, ice and pain medication see me through a few days of aches and pains before I start recovery sessions and training for the next fight.
Tonight is no different except for this power trip that Benji is on, only to ensure I am not more injured than usual. I’m not, but no amount of telling him that will get him to let up on the situation, so I’ve let him take the lead. If for no other reason but to focus on breathing through the pain and trying to quiet the thumping in my head.
Pushing through the double glass doors, we make our way inside the busy hospital, where a trauma nurse greets us immediately. Benji called Nico on the way here, and apparently there is a doctor who Dante recommends that can help us. He relayed that the doctor will be discreet, and that they’re on top of their game. They’ll be able to fix me up, no questions asked, and send me on my way. The sooner they can do that, the better, because I already feel my pulse thumping harder and faster after taking two steps inside the door.
The problem with underground fighting is that it’s all on the downlow—underground—or if you want to get technical… illegal. That combined with the fact I work with the head mob family in New York, it means that anything I do can be a point of interest for some people. Those that have a morbid interest in the inner workings of our family. The men who want to be part of something, the women who want to be wrapped around one of us, neither of whom will ever get a glimpse of what or who we truly are. Although many of them prefer to run away instead.
I walk like a fucking invalid next to Benji as sweat beads form on my forehead simply from being in this place. All the while, he continues to bark orders at everyone in sight. I hope Nico and Dante are right about this doctor, because the smell of disinfectant is piercing my nostrils and the need to get the hell out of here crawls up my spine, making me shiver. My throat tightens as the memories of my past escape my subconscious, infiltrating my mind. I’ve got no time to reminisce, though, and have no desire to take a trip down memory lane. Especially not tonight.
How Nico and Dante know a doctor here in Philly, I have no idea. They only ever come down here to watch me fight and ensure that I win, preferring to be in New York with the rest of the team. I used to always be right alongside them, but as of recently, I am spending more and more time down here, building up my gym business with Benji and making new acquaintances for the mob. It works in everyone’s favor.
As we walk farther down the hall, my grip around my torso tightens. Each inhale I take, brings a renewed twinge of pain, and I wonder if coming to this hospital was actually a good idea for once. Even though my hands feel clammy, and I now feel slightly nauseous.
“We need Dr. Wakeford,” Benji barks at a young nurse. She looks totally intimidated by his erratic manner, and rightfully so.
“I’m… I’m not sure…” she stammers before Benji interrupts her.
“We want to see Dr. Wakeford!” he shouts at her, and she jumps, startled by his tone, rushing away to the nurses’ station.
“Benji, fucking calm down,” I barely manage to say, while holding back a groan. My arm remains wrapped around my torso, and I hiss as the pain shoots across my rib cage.
It was a tough fight tonight, that much is sinking in now. My face feels swollen, my ribs hurt, my hands are bruised and covered in blood. Hopefully nothing’s broken because that will put me out for a while. The thing is, though, it’s not much worse than how I find myself after most fights. If anything, my nerves are what’s really causing me the most aggravation. And Benji’s crazy ass isn’t helping either.
I look up in time to see a male nurse walking up to us.
“I’m Ian. I can assess you today,” he says calmly, taking in the sight of me.
Before I can respond, Benji pipes up again. “No one is touching him except for Doctor Wakeford.” His finger points in my direction, and my eyes roll.
“I can appreciate that, but I am the Nursing Manager for Doctor Wakeford’s office, so I can do an initial assessment before I call the doctor.” He’s not taking any crap from Benji, and I need to smother my smile. As I look at Benji, I can tell he’s about to explode, yet he’s holding it in and going bright red in the face in the process.
“Relax, Benji. Let him do the paperwork.” I’m too tired and sore to argue, and really just want to leave this place as soon as possible.
We follow Nurse Ian into an examination room, and I sit on the edge of the hospital bed. He passes me an ice pack, and I nod in appreciation as I press it onto my face to try to contain the swelling before it gets out of hand.
“Would you like to tell me what happened?” Ian asks as he grabs my wrist and feels for my pulse.
“Just a fight, nothing major,” I reply steadily. I can tell by his expression he doesn’t believe me, but continues with his initial assessment by noting a few details on his paperwork.
“When will the doctor be here?” Benji asks with a huff. His two minutes of silence must’ve given him a second wind, his demanding attitude back in full force. He paces the small room, not yet settled. Maybe the pressure of being held accountable by the mob if, God forbid, I croak under his watch, is getting the better of him.
“I’m afraid that Doctor Wakeford is—” Ian starts to say before he’s cut off, much more confidently than the previous young nurse.
