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“Git,” he chuckles at me, still looking out of it.
Mumbling in his extra-thick accent, Lachlan explains that he and Priscilla paid a visit to a clean-up team associate. They suspected he might be a spy, collecting evidence to blackmail them. At gunpoint, Lachlan interrogated the guy. “We took his piece and checked him for other weapons. Guy had a knife taped to his hip. I turned around, and he swung at me, tore the sleeve of my shirt. I felt a sting, but thought it was a scrape.”
“Scrape,” Darcy scoffs. “The areshole just missed the tendons.”
Lachlan keeps his eyes focused on me. “You look scared, little wife.”
“I saw all six-six of you collapse. That scared me.”
His good hand brushes my chin. “It takes more than a scrape to take me out.”
“It wasn’t a scrape.” I run my fingers through his thick, dark mane. “Was it okay that I called Griffin?”
“Aye.”
I watch Darcy, and jealousy cramps my stomach. “I need to know how to do that. Darcy, can you show me? I got lucky that Griffin was close and that you were available. You’ve got two children, isn’t that right?”
She smiles at me. “I do. I also have a mother-in-law who loves to babysit.”
“I still want to know how to do this.”
“Come watch me.” She waves me over. “It takes practice.”
“I don’t want to sound silly, but I know how to sew. I made my own costumes when I was little. Even when Papa offered to buy me whatever I needed for recitals, I still made my own rehearsal and audition gear.”
“It’s not that different. I’ve been taking surgical nursing classes, but it took a while to get used to the needle driver.” She’s got my husband nearly stitched up. “I’ll order you a practice kit.”
“They make practice kits?”
“Enough.” Lachlan stirs and gets to his feet. “This won’t happen again. I don’t need my wife stitching me up. She’s a dancer, not a doctor.”
Darcy hides her smile and then winks at me. “Two seconds, Lachlan. Let me finish.”
He exhales roughly and sticks his arm back at her. She finishes, then wraps him up in fresh gauze with tape on the ends. Griffin and Darcy leave our bedroom, and I feel their eyes lingering on the sea of blankets we mess up by making love. Every morning and every night.
“This is your gun and your punching arm, Lach,” Griffin points out once we’re in the living room. “You need to take it easy for a few days. Priscilla and I will handle things.”
“A fewdays?” I shriek. “No. My husband is seriously hurt. He passed out! Darcy, when will those stitches come out?”
Darcy looks at Griffin as I challenge her. “The gash is sitting right over the muscle, which isn’t easy to keep isolated, even in a sling.” Bracing herself, she mutters, “Two weeks really is the best time frame.”
“Two weeks?”Lachlan roars, and Griffin shoves Darcy behind him. “The stitches in my face came out in five days.” He points to the scar across his left cheek.
Darcy pushes Griffin aside. “Lachlan,” she says his name in a commanding tone. “Facial wounds are different. So are gashes on the palms and the bottom of the feet. Our skin may look the same everywhere, but trust my medical background, it’s not.”
“Lachlan, please.” I press on his chest. “I don’t want you going after people compromised.”
Breathing heavily, he stares down at me. I’m trying to cage a lion. I lick my lips and pull him down for a kiss. “Please. It’ll go quick. We’ll…keep busy.”
“Can I not move it at all?” He glares at Darcy above my head.
“Of course you can. You just can’t strain it.Pummelingpeople will strain it.” She saunters up to him. “Don’t forget who my husband is. I know what you do to our enemies.”
Her sayingourhits me.She’sone of them. She speaks like them. I don’t. I’ve been treated like an outsider since I arrived in Astoria. Right now, I feel that chasm again, and it makes me sick.
The other night at the gala, sitting with Isabella and Priscilla, I felt like I fit in. But maybe I’m fooling myself. My father and Maksim have caused so much trouble. Maybe people see me as guilty by association.
Lachlan doesn’t make me feel that way, though.
