by L. A. Witt
But why did my head hurt? And why did the pain seem centered around a particular point? I freed my hand and gingerly touched my temple, where I found a small bandage. Something underneath was tender too. When had I hit my head? I’d been fully conscious after I’d landed on my foot. Would’ve preferred not to be, but those were the cards I’d been dealt. Maybe I’d just been too focused on how fucking bad my foot hurt, and I hadn’t noticed hitting my damn head.
For that matter, why did my elbow feel bruised, and what happened to my hand? My knuckles weren’t scraped, but they were definitely more tender and discolored than they’d been after we’d fucked up Pitbull.
Might’ve been when I’d blacked out. Could’ve hit my head against the bricks. Maybe my arm too. That would explain why my next memory had been Darren and Paula dragging me outside.
Darren.
A chill ran through me despite the heavy blankets.
Darren had been there, right? I hadn’t hallucinated? He was alive? In one piece? When had—
“Oh, you’re awake.” Erin’s voice jolted me. I opened my eyes to see her coming into the room with a cup of coffee in hand.
“Yeah. How long have I been out?”
She shrugged. “You’ve been out of surgery for a couple of hours. They just drugged you pretty good.”
Ah, that made sense.
She smirked. “And the doctor wanted me to tell you there’s no hard feelings for decking him.”
I blinked. “Come again?”
“He said some people are”—she made air quotes—“‘combative’ when they come out from under anesthesia, and you took a swing at him.”
“Oh God.” I scrubbed my hand over my face. “He’s not pressing charges, is he?”
“No. In fact, he was kind of impressed at your aim.”
I groaned.
She laughed and sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s fine. He says it happens.” She squeezed my other hand. “How do you feel?”
“Like I should call in sick tomorrow.”
“Chief Hamilton already told Darren you guys are taking the next week off. Both of you.”
I stiffened. “Darren? Is he okay? Is—”
“Relax.” She patted my arm. “He’s just at the station sorting some things out. He’s called a few times to check in on you, and he’ll be here as soon as he can get away.” She scowled. “Sounds like it’s a real mess if he’s still stuck there.”
“How long has it been?” Christ, I’d lost all sense of time. I wasn’t even sure I knew what day it was.
“A few hours. You were in the ER for a while, then they sent you over to the orthopedic side because I guess they didn’t want to wait to do surgery.” She glanced at the door. “They’re probably going to discharge you pretty soon, though.”
Well, that was a relief. I hated hospitals. I’d spent way too much time in them while Darren was in the ICU, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to stay here very long if word got around that I’d slugged the surgeon. Even if I’d been drugged out of my head, that wasn’t a way to get on the nurses’ good sides.
That, and I needed to be with Darren. I needed to know what had happened with Jim and Jenna. And wasn’t there some fur flying with Detective Perkins? I vaguely remembered Darren and Paula snarling at him, but that had been about the time my ankle had started hurting so bad I couldn’t breathe. Not much had registered after that.
Footsteps approached, and Erin and I both turned.
A tall, dark-haired guy in a white coat stepped around the curtain, a clipboard resting on his arm. He looked far too young to even be in medical school, let alone graduated, but I knew immediately who he was.
I cleared my throat. “Uh. Sorry about the . . .” I held up my hand and made a loose fist.
He chuckled, absently touching the faint bruise on his cheek. “You aren’t the first, Detective. You were more or less unconscious, so it was really on me to get out of the way.”
“Still.”
Erin smothered a laugh. “If I’d gotten here before he went into surgery, I’d have warned you he’s not the best patient in the world.”
I glared at her. “Whose side are you on?”
She didn’t even try to smother it this time.
Neither did the surgeon. “Well, now that you’re awake.” He extended his hand. “I’m Dr. Hicks.” We shook hands, then he continued, skimming over his clipboard as he spoke. “I’m gonna cut right to the chase here—you’re going to need additional surgery on that ankle.”
“Fuck. Seriously?”
He nodded. “The rods and screws are temporary. They’ll need to come out, and you’ll need some additional hardware put in to keep things stable in the long term, depending on how the bones and tendons are healing.”
“Great.”
“But, otherwise, I expect you’ll make a full recovery. I’m going to discharge you with a prescription for pain relief, and a referral to an orthopedist for a follow-up.”
“I suppose this means I’m behind a desk for a while.”
Dr. Hicks eyed me. He glanced at my daughter as if to say, Is he for real?
“Dad.” She patted my arm. “It’s okay to take it easy. You wouldn’t want to jar your ankle and wind up with a loose screw.”
I shot her another glare, and it was Dr. Hicks’s turn to smother a laugh. Oh Lord.
“The concussion alone is going to keep you behind a desk for at least two weeks,” the surgeon said. “It’s relatively mild, but you might have some balance and memory issues for a while. So, until your regular doctor clears you, I’d highly recommend taking it easy. In fact, the ER doc and I both recommend at least a week off from work entirely while your head and ankle recover.”
“And my hand?”
He laughed. “If my face is anything to go by, your hand is probably fine.”
Guilt twinged in my stomach. How hard had I tried to hit him? I’d been drugged enough to get combative, but fortunately also drugged enough I hadn’t gone at him with full force. I’d broken a man’s cheekbone before—and fractured my own knuckle—so it could’ve been a lot worse.
“So if I’m getting discharged, does this mean I can put my clothes back on?”
“Of course.” He gestured at a chair beside my bed. “Everything should be there. Your daughter has your wallet and keys.” He glanced at her like he wanted to confirm it, but a weird smile played at his lips. One played at hers too. Then they both cleared their throats and looked away.
Oh for fuck’s sake. Really, you two?
But I let it go.
She gestured at my clothes too. “Your jeans were cut away, but I grabbed your gym shorts out of your bag. Will those work?”
“Yeah, that’s fine.” I started to sit up, my head still spinning a little, but definitely clearing.
“Do you need help with—”
“I’m fine.”
She hesitated but then stood, dusting phantom crumbs off her jeans. “Okay, well, while you’re getting dressed, I’m going to go get some coffee. You want anything?”
I glanced at the coffee cup she’d brought in like five minutes ago, and at the surgeon who was still hovering by the curtained partition. “No, I’m fine. Thanks.”
“Okay.” She squeezed my arm. “Be right back.”
She and Dr. Hicks left, and I stared incredulously at the swaying curtain for a few seconds. Even as they walked away, I could hear them exchanging small talk over the noise of a busy hospital ward.
I shook my head and chuckled as I reached for my clothes. She was her mother’s daughter, after all.
Getting dressed was a challenge. At least putting on shorts. Thank God she’d thought ahead and I didn’t have to try maneuvering back into jeans. The thick cast around my lower leg was going to be a serious pain in the ass for a while.
Once I had on my own clothes and one shoe, I sat back on the bed to keep my foot up. The thought of taking time off work made my skin crawl, but the throbbing in my head—which kept perfect time with
the throbbing in my ankle—said it wasn’t up for discussion.
Erin had left my phone and wallet behind. I pocketed my wallet and picked up my phone. There were a number of missed calls, mostly from Chief Hamilton, and several texts from Darren and Paula.
I opened the conversation with Darren.
Hey, I’ll be there as soon as I can.
Still hung up here.
Whatever drugs they give you, I want some, b/c fuck this.
I laughed and wrote back, You have your own drugs.
In seconds, he was typing.
Hey, how are you feeling?
Like shit. Going home shortly.
Ok. I’m wrapping up here. Meet you at your place?
I smiled. It felt like years since I’d seen him, even if it had only been a few hours. And even if I’d been unconscious or close to it for part of that time. Yes please. How are things going w/the chief?
Don’t worry about it. Then, as if he knew I would press, he added, I’ll fill you in tonight.
As I was pulling up my email to see what else I’d missed, Erin came back in, attention focused on her own phone. The grin on her lips told me everything I needed to know.
“Erin,” I said. “Tell me you didn’t just get the surgeon’s phone number.”
“What?”
Her attempt at innocence made me laugh, and I rolled my eyes. “I really shouldn’t be surprised.”
She smirked. “I’ll just blame it on the drugs. The same drugs that made you smack the guy who’s taking me out to dinner tomorrow night.”
I blinked. “I’m impressed.”
She just laughed.
“You do realize—” I paused to cough, my throat still burning from the smoke and whatever the surgeons had rammed down my windpipe while I was out. “You do realize if he’s been through medical school and a residency, he’s at least in his thirties, right?”
Erin’s smirk came back, and dear Lord, did she look like her mother just then. “Do we need to talk about how Darren is closer to my age than yours?”
“Uh.”
“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
“Point taken.”
My discharge papers showed up a few minutes later, and per hospital policy, I rode out in a wheelchair. I didn’t argue about it, either. I wasn’t thrilled about it, but as tired as I was, the thought of making the hike down the hall and out to Erin’s car on crutches . . . no. And I’d already punched a doctor today. I didn’t want to test the hospital staff’s goodwill. Not even if I was feeling slightly less guilty over preemptively putting the fear of God into a man who was interested in my daughter.
I hadn’t even realized how tired I really was until I dozed off in the car. I’d barely hoisted myself into the passenger seat, when Erin was nudging me awake in the parking lot below my apartment.
With her help, I made it up the stairs to my door, but by the time I got there, I was sweating bullets and my head was pounding even more than before. Okay, so I was taking a week off work. Maybe more. Fuck this.
Erin helped me get settled on the couch with a stack of pillows under my foot. After a bite to eat and a pain pill, I was dozing again in no time.
Right up until a key turned in the front door.
My eyes flew open and my heart sped up, and sure enough . . . Darren.
He stepped into the living room, sliding his keys into his coat pocket. “Hey you.”
“Hey yourself.” I started to sit up, but he crouched beside the sofa and planted a gentle kiss on my lips.
“Good to see you,” he said softly.
“Likewise.” I moistened my lips. “How did things go?”
Darren sighed, rolling his shoulders with what seemed like a ton of effort. I slid over enough that he could sit on the edge of the couch, and he laced our fingers together. “Brian’s all right. He’s going to be out of work for a while until his hands are healed, but when I talked to Deanna, she said the employees and customers at Reginald’s were taking up a collection to help him out. He’s pretty shook up, but I think he’ll be okay.”
I exhaled. “Good. What about Jim?”
“He’s out of surgery. He’s got a guard posted outside his hospital room until he’s discharged, and then he’ll be transferred downtown. He’ll be arraigned once he’s able to appear in court.”
“How’s Jenna?”
“Rattled. I got a statement from her, then dropped her with her parents. Didn’t seem like she should be alone right now.”
I nodded, running my thumb along the side of his hand. “But she’s all right?”
“She’ll be fine. To be honest, once the shock wears off, I think she’ll be better than she’s been.”
“Knowing that asshole’s in prison? I believe it.”
“Yeah.” His gaze turned distant. Then he glanced toward the kitchen, and I realized Erin’s voice was coming from that direction. She must’ve been on the phone. Probably with Dr. I’m-taking-your-daughter-to-dinner Hicks. Darren relaxed a little, eyes still fixed on the kitchen. “I’m glad she was around to stay with you. I would’ve if—”
“Darren.” I squeezed his hand. “I’d have been fine even if she wasn’t there.” Though admittedly, I was thankful as hell she was in town right now. “You had things to deal with.”
“I know, but . . .” His lips pulled tight.
“It’s a fractured ankle and a concussion.” I brought his fingers up and kissed them. “You were putting away a serial killer.”
“And half the Thirty-Second,” he grumbled.
“What?”
He rubbed his eyes, then dropped his hand in his lap, and God, he looked even more exhausted than I felt. “Okay, not putting them away. But the fact that Detective Perkins was ready to let us die? Chief Hamilton is not happy. There’s going to be an inquiry, and from what Hamilton said, it might cost some badges.”
I grimaced. “Shit. As if we’re not already being blamed for a fuck-load of other confiscated badges.”
“Serves them right. The others were dirty cops, and these guys could’ve gotten us killed.” He scowled. “So much for cops having each other’s backs. Though . . .” He chewed his lip before looking in my eyes. “Now I really see why you weren’t so quick to trust me in the beginning. Even the good cops will turn on you.”
“If they think you’re in tight with IA and you’re the reason their buddies are losing their jobs? Yeah.” I sighed. “Cops don’t rat out other cops.”
“Didn’t think cops let other cops die in burning buildings either.”
I squeezed his hand again. “Welcome to my world.”
Our eyes locked. There were a million things either of us could’ve said right then. About how, where our colleagues were concerned, all that shit about cops being brothers didn’t apply to us. Or how if we didn’t have each other’s back, no one else would. Or how it was us against the world, and there was no one on the planet I’d rather have as my one and only ally. I would no sooner go into a gunfight without him than I would without a Kevlar vest and a backup weapon.
But, instead, Darren touched my face and whispered, “I’m glad you’re okay.” Then he leaned down and kissed me again, letting it linger for a long moment.
“Maybe one of these days,” I said, smoothing his hair, “we can actually spend some time together without one of us being laid up.”
He laughed, brushing his lips across mine. “Couldn’t have that. You might figure out how boring I am or what a terrible housekeeper I am.”
I chuckled. “Your housekeeping hasn’t put me off yet, and you’re anything but boring.”
“Eh, we’ll see what you say when the dust settles and there aren’t bullets flying and buildings blowing up.”
Exhaling, I drew him down again. “Honestly, I’m looking forward to that kind of boring.”
“Yeah, me too.” He kissed me once more before he sat up. “I miss life being boring.”
“Seriously.” I paused. “Maybe when all this is over, we should t
ake some time off. Like, vacation. Get away from everything and spend some time together.”
A smile threatened, but faded. “Question is, when will it be over?”
My heart sank. There was that. The inquiry would take time. There’d be other investigations. Jim’s trial. God knew what kind of backlash for . . . hell, there was always some kind of backlash for everything I—we—did. And there was Darren’s brother.
Yeah, we’d caught Jim, and we’d made it out of that warehouse alive, but a boring life was still a long way off.
“We’ll get there,” I said. “But I’m not going anywhere between now and then.”
This time, his smile came to life, but it was more of a smirk. “Not if I take your crutches away, you aren’t.”
I laughed. “All right, Annie Wilkes. C’mere.” I pulled him down by the tie, and his kiss was a little more playful now.
When he looked in my eyes again, he smiled. “I love you, Andreas.”
I slid my fingers up into his hair. “I love you too.”
“Okay,” Erin chirped in the other room. “I can’t wait. I’ll see you then.”
I groaned.
“What?” Darren sat up. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just that someone”—I pointed toward the kitchen—“is using my fragile condition to meet men.”
“I beg your pardon?” Erin strolled into the room. “It’s not my fault you were still drugged up when he came by the first time.”
“Oh, so when you two were flirting when I woke up—that wasn’t the first time?”
“Are you kidding?” She giggled. “He came by three times before you were finally awake. It would’ve been rude not to chat with him.”
“Uh-huh.”
Darren looked back and forth between us. “What am I missing?”
“That my daughter was just in there chatting with my surgeon, who’s taking her out to dinner tomorrow.”
“A surgeon?” Darren’s ears perked up. “Is he hot?”
“Uh-huh,” Erin and I said in unison.
“Dad!” She leaned over the back of the couch and smacked my arm. “Really?”
“Oh please. Isn’t like I have a shot with him after I took a swing at him.”