Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 18063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 90(@200wpm)___ 72(@250wpm)___ 60(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 90(@200wpm)___ 72(@250wpm)___ 60(@300wpm)
He nodded slowly. “Well, I promise as soon as we’re done at the hospital, whenever that is, I will get you a burger.”
“I think you’re gonna have to drive the car. I don’t think I should.”
“No, you shouldn’t,” he agreed, moving my hand from his cheek, taking it in both of his as he stared down at me. “But we’re going to leave it here and get it tomorrow. Tonight I’m going to go to the hospital with you, and wherever else we go, we’ll get a cab.”
“But I’m responsible for that car and––”
“I think it will be perfectly safe here until tomorrow,” he apprised me, holding my hand gently but firmly, not about to let go, his gaze warm and his voice so very soothing. “Now do me a favor and lie there and rest.”
When we were ready to go, I was surprised that the EMTs let him ride to the hospital with me in the back. They weren’t supposed to, but the way he was sitting there, looking at me like I belonged to him, I didn’t think they wanted to mess with him.
David Chan got taken by ambulance to the hospital as well, because even though he was finally awake, they needed to know what he’d been dosed with and we were both in the car when it went through a spin cycle. They wanted to make sure he didn’t have a concussion. Of course, because his family was rich, we didn’t go to the same hospital. He went off to a private one while I headed for County. I could have gone to a frou-frou one myself—I had killer health insurance—but I liked the one downtown. I’d been there a lot; I knew where everything was.
Police detectives met us at the hospital to get my statement and explain, even though I knew already, that they had to secure my weapon along with all the others. Ballistics had to be run on every firearm, and every round that I fired, as well as everyone else, had to be accounted for. I knew it would take at least a week, considering how many bullets had been flying around, but I had my spare, a Sig Sauer P229 Legion, at home that I could use in the interim.
I gave my usual by-the-book rundown of events, and they were surprised, until I explained that I was military, that it was both thorough and brief. I was good with breaking things down.
The doctor who saw me wanted to give me a tetanus shot along with a shot of penicillin, but I explained again about being in the reserves and that I was up-to-date with all my vaccines.
“Aren’t you going to ask me if it hurts?” I teased Kurt as he helped me put my bloody shirt back on.
“No. I know it hurts, despite the way people on TV and in movies sort of shrug off a bullet graze.”
“Right?” I sighed, appreciating him buttoning my shirt back up. “I feel like people have an unrealistic view of what it’s like to be shot or see a dead body or be chased by a serial killer.”
He chuckled as he eased my arm into the sleeve of my jacket. “Do you have anything for the pain at home?”
I grimaced. “Probably more things than I should have. My medicine cabinet belongs in a drug dealer’s lair.”
“Okay, good to know,” he said, grinning, which made those pretty eyes of his gleam in the light. “Are you ready for that burger now?”
I shook my head. “I know it’s late, or early, depending on how you look at it, and you probably have patients to see tomorrow and––”
“Stop,” he murmured, slipping his hand around the side of my neck.
I was going to say something, but the warmth of his skin, the stroke of his thumb along the line of my jaw, and how husky his voice was had me mesmerized. I was good and gobsmacked by his attention, and every drop of protest died in my throat.
“I want to feed you, all right?”
I nodded as he stepped in close, into the V of my parted legs, and put the palm of his right hand over my heart.
“And after I feed you, I want us to go to your house and pack an overnight bag, and then I want to take you home with me so I can watch you sleep.”
“Watch me sleep?” I asked playfully, trying not to let him hear how much I wanted that, or the stuttering of my breath or the pounding of my heart.
“Stop,” he said with a smile, but his eyes were serious. “If you don’t want that… tell me now and I’ll put you in a cab. But if that sounds good, then just let me take care of you.”
I swallowed hard, because yeah, I wanted that, but I didn’t need him feeling sorry for me. “You’re not doin’ this because you––”