Bleeding Edge: Elliot Security (Elliot Security Series Book 2)

by Evie Mitchell

  “You’re not–”

  Dr. CJ interrupted our bickering. “Another option would be our respite care suites. They’re pricey, but have live in nurses, easy access to medical staff and facilities, and our gymnasium has an indoor pool to assist with your rehabilitation.” The doctor cleared his throat, looking at Luc. “It’s also a secure building.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think–”

  “She’ll take it.”

  “Luc!”

  “Emmie.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking exhausted. “Work is covering all this. If you won’t stay with me, then that’s your only option.”

  “I–”

  “Just hush up and let Pax cover it. Without you, Jetta would be dead and he’d be living a half life.”

  Ugh.

  “Fine.” I crossed my arms over my chest, turning my nose up to the ceiling. “But don’t expect me to like it.”

  He grinned, blue eyes dancing. “I would never dare presume.”

  The doctor cleared his throat. “I’ll organise the paperwork.”

  He exited, leaving Luc and I locked in a stare battle. He looked away first.

  “Ha! I win.” I crowed, grinning.

  “True. But I won the true battle.” He tapped my leg, settling into the seat beside my bed.

  I narrowed my eyes on him, taking in his familiar shape.

  “You’re a bully. You know that? You wrangle people into doing what you want.”

  “I prefer the term conscientious objector.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “More compliments? Anyone would think you have a crush.” He grinned.

  My heart squeezed, butterflies taking flight in my stomach.

  “They obviously don’t know me then.” I held up a hand, tapping my chest. “This heart is dead.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Puh-lease. You’re a big softie.” Luc reached across, running a thumb over my knuckles. “It’s why I like you.”

  I looked down at our hands, feeling things I had no business feeling. I pushed down the emotions, ignoring the wistful regret for things I wanted but could never have.

  “You should go.” I whispered, gaze still locked on our hands. His thumb paused, then started its slow path once again.

  “Nah,” He drawled softly. “I’m good. Besides, I like the way you’re looking at me.”

  I glanced up, blinking at him. “How I’m…? How am I looking at you?”

  His lips quirked. “Like I’m full of awesome.”

  My lips lifted in an answering smile. “Sometimes you are.”

  “Only sometimes?” He shifted, lacing our fingers together.

  “Don’t push your luck, Falco.”

  He grinned. “Anyone ever told you, you’re adorable when riled?”

  I rolled my eyes, desperately fighting a blush. “If you’re staying at least make yourself useful. Get me a cup of tea.”

  “Your wish, as ever, is my command.” He rose, turning my hand over. He leaned down, bowing, pressing a kiss to the inside of my wrist. I watched, eyes wide.

  He grinned, straightening. “Be right back.”

  As he left the room, I cradled the wrist in my other hand, running my thumb across the spot his lips had been.

  “You’re leaving.” I whispered. “You can’t do this.”

  Regret remained.

  Chapter Eight

  Emmie

  The dream always started the same.

  A room with rows of desks, computers positioned just so. Children arranged by age, youngest at the front, eldest at the back. Girls on one side of the room, boys on the other.

  I sat three rows from the back, the room silent bar the click of fingers on keyboards.

  Sweat dripped down my spine as I hunched over, jabbing fingers against the keys. My eyes were dry, blurring. My stomach clenched with hunger, my tongue thick as I wished for water.

  We had a choice. Complete the challenge or accept the punishment.

  No one willingly chose the punishment.

  The clock ticked on the wall. The little ones completing their tasks. The older students continued through the night, struggling to achieve our individual taskings.

  I’d been told to investigate a local police officer. His financials, his history, anything I could find.

  And then I was to create a destruction plan.

  My fingers were silent on the keyboard. Around me, one-by-one the students completed their tasks until only me and the teacher remained.

  “Punishment or nourishment?” She asked, glancing pointedly at the clock.

  I looked down at the text cursor. It blinked menacingly on the screen.

  No. The word danced on the tip of my tongue even as my stomach clenched and my throat begged for water. If I refused, I’d be whipped.

  My fingers flexed over the keys.

  A paddle slapped down on the desk. “Decide!”

  I pressed a key. Then another. Letters formed words, words formed sentences and sentences formed the demise of a person.

  I submitted the pages, waiting for approval.

  The teacher scanned the document, pursing her lips.

  “This is good work. You may go.”

  I turned to the door.

  “But fifteen lashes tomorrow.”

  I spun back around. “What!”

  “God’s work should not be questioned. Your hesitation brings shame to him.”

  I bit my tongue, clenching fists together. “I understand, sister.” I forced the words out between clenched teeth.

  The dream faded, leaving behind only the fear and guilt.

  Chapter Nine

  Emmie

  Two weeks after being admitted, they cleared me to move to the private respite facility located about fifty yards from the hospital. The rooms were equipped with accessibility items like push-open drawers and cupboards, assistance bars, a seat in the shower, and emergency call buttons in every room.

  It felt like living in a really nice nursing home. Judging by the average age of my neighbours… I didn’t want to know how much this cost.

  “I want to go home.” My bottom lip stuck out in a full pout. I knew I was being petulant, but damn it, I wanted my bed and my things. Not a duffel bag filled with whatever item of clothing Addie or Kel or whoever my maid of the day had thought to pack.

  “I know. But think of this as a really nice holiday. Like a health clinic.”

  I laughed, tilting my head back to look up at Luc pushing my wheelchair. “Health clinic?”

  “Would you have preferred something else?”

  “Nursing home?”

  “You know, nursing is the profession of providing care for the sick and infirm. Technically you wouldn’t be incorrect for calling it that.” He ruffled my hair playfully.

  I leaned away from his hand, rolling my eyes. “Well done, Captain Definition.”

  “Do I get a cape?”

  “Not that kind of captain.”

  “Well that’s disappointing.”

  I laughed. “Suck it up, princess.”

  “Ugh.” He made an exaggerated shudder. “Don’t. Pax calls Jetta that, it’s sickly sweet.”

  “Really?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I think it’s cute.”

  “My woman’s not getting a cutesy nickname. She’s gonna be Spitfire, or Hottie, or Karen.”

  “Karen?” I raised an eyebrow.

  He shrugged. “Karen was my eighth-grade teacher. Every boy’s wet dream.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Right. Good luck with that. Every chick’s secret wish is to be called by another’s name.”

  “Hush, Minx.”

  “Nope. Not a thing.”

  “Totally our thing… Keys?”

  “What?”

  He let go of the chair, pretending to type. “Keys, get it?”

  I rolled my eyes so hard I worried I’d pulled a muscle. “Just keep pushing.”

  “As you wish, Ms Keys!”
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  “Say it one more time and I’ll–”

  “We’re here!” He stopped the wheelchair.

  My physiotherapist, Amy, stood in the kitchen, waving as Luc rolled me through the entry.

  “Hey! I’m just putting away your groceries.” She closed a lower cabinet door, offering me a smile.

  “Let me show you around.”

  Amy walked or, in my case, rolled us through the small space. The apartment itself was compact, but still bigger than my current flat. I guess it had to be, to accommodate wheelchairs and walkers.

  “Remember, it’s important to stand as much as you can and keep moving using the techniques we discussed. We’ll work on gaining back your strength and mobility over the next few weeks, but as long as you can stand, you can walk.” She handed me a bunch of papers. “These are my initial thoughts regarding your rehab regime and a suggested diet. At least until we get the all clear. We’ll talk more about this at the first session. If there’s nothing else, I’ll see you tomorrow. Fair warning, it’ll be brutal. We’ll be getting you walking. We need to rebuild your motion and muscle strength in your other leg while we wait for the fractures to heal.”

  I nodded and, after goodbyes, she left Luc and I alone.

  “What do you need?”

  I blushed, avoiding his eyes as I muttered, “A bathroom.”

  “Right.” He turned the chair, wheeling me down the hall to the room.

  I’d started serious PT earlier that morning. I was used to being active. I held a black belt in karate. I tried to run at least five kilometres each day. I did both to stay fit and ensure that, when the time came, I’d be able to protect myself. Being weak was never an option.

  Yet, here I was. Shaking like a new lamb, weak as a baby, relying on Luc to assist me to the bathroom. He helped me up, shifting me in a practiced motion.

  “This is embarrassing.” I tucked my head into his neck. Even the act of simply standing had robbed me of my strength.

  “Nah.” He grinned down at me. “Makes me look gentlemanly. I get to imagine I’m a ye olden knight, sent to help the damsel in distress.”

  “Oh great.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m the flake in this story.”

  “The damsel who fought a dragon and won but got hurt doing it?”

  “Slightly better.”

  “The damsel who fought a dragon and won and now gets the whole pot of gold?”

  “Better.”

  “The damsel who fought a dragon, won, and gets the gold and the guy?”

  “I’d prefer the dragon. I want to be Khaleesi, riding my giant fire-breathing pet through the skies.”

  “Naked.”

  “What?” I laughed, swatting at his forearm. “Luc!”

  “Hush. My fantasy.” He positioned my hands onto the bar next to the toilet. “Okay?”

  “Yeah good. Go.” I waved him off with one hand.

  “Call if you need, I’ll be right outside.” He walked out, leaving me to silently die of embarrassment.

  The mirror and sink were opposite the toilet, about six feet away. As I sat doing my business, I examined my face in the mirror. It didn’t paint a pretty picture. Pale cheeks, hair limp and greasy from lack of washing and sunlight, dark rings circling both eyes.

  You don’t have time for this.

  I finished, heaving myself up. Standing, I realised I couldn’t make the short distance to the sink unassisted. Feeling useless, I called out. The door immediately opened, Luc coming to help.

  “And to think, I told all the girls you weren’t a pervert,” I joked to hide my mortification.

  He held an arm out, bracing as I leant against him.

  “Don’t worry. The affidavit is only valid in Queensland.” We both smiled as he easily assisted me the five steps to the sink. I washed my hands, leaning heavily against the basin before collapsing into the chair. He pushed me out and down to a bedroom.

  He’d turned down the bed. A TV sat on the large dresser on the wall at the foot of the bed. A sitcom played on mute.

  Slowly, Luc helped me to rise and pivot to sit on the bed. The small effort of moving caught up with me. I settled in as he shuffled around the room, unpacking my clothes, and putting items I may need within arm reach of the bed.

  He exited and returned a moment later, a glass of water and some pills in hand. I made a face but took them, forcing it down.

  As I started to drift off, the bed dipped.

  “What are you…?”

  “Ssh. Go back to sleep.” He settled on the other side of the mattress.

  “Luc…” I didn’t know what to say. “Thank you.”

  He pressed a kiss to my forehead, whispering, “For good dreams.”

  I settled, sinking deeper into the bed while he gently stroked my hair as I fell asleep.

  Chapter Ten

  Emmie

  “God, Luc.” I panted his name, breathless.

  “That’s it. A little more. You’re so close.” He encouraged.

  “It’s too much.”

  “Fuck, Em. You’re so close. Come–”

  “Oh my God…” I groaned and collapsed into Luc’s arms. My legs were jelly, my arms aching. I looked up at him, flushed, sweaty, and deliriously proud. “I did it!”

  “Yeah, you did! Ten whole minutes! You’re killing it today!” He grinned back.

  “Ten-minute rest, then round two, Emmie.” We both looked over at my physical therapist. Or Satan as I now called her.

  “Computer says no, Amy.”

  “Computer says get your arse up and keep going.” She turned away to assist another client.

  I poked my tongue out.

  “I saw that,” she called over her shoulder.

  Recovering from a bullet wound hurt. It hurt so bad. It hurt and took forever. Every little movement sent pain shooting up and down my thigh; it all hurt. Sometimes it even hurt to breathe.

  The muscles on the left side of my body screamed in protest as my leg trembled. Despite my joy at today’s achievement, I felt helpless, weak, frustrated, angry, and depressed.

  Two weeks post-hospital and I’d finally started shuffle-walking during physiotherapy. And, glory be, I could stand for a whole three minutes unassisted.

  Not good enough. You’re vulnerable. You need to−

  “Ten minutes are done. Round two, Ding!” Luc pretended to hit a gong. “Begin.”

  I groaned, struggling to push off the chair. My fingers death gripped the arm rests.

  “If you make it ten minutes – just ten, Emmie– then I’ll buy you some chocolate.” Luc dangled that delicious temptation in front of me.

  Gritting my teeth, I shuffle-walked those ten minutes, using the balance bars to stubbornly hold myself up as I paced on the treadmill.

  One, two, five, eight, ten! Thank God!

  Grunting in frustration and pain, Luc caught me as I dropped back into the wheelchair. Tears burned, threatening to overflow as he pulled my head against his stomach and rubbed my back soothingly.

  “White, dark, or milk?”

  “Frozen bananas rolled in dark chocolate with nuts,” I muttered fighting for control.

  “There’s always money in the banana stand.”

  I huffed out a tired but surprised laugh. “I didn’t know you watched Arrested Development.” His hand slipped under my jaw, tilting my head back.

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” Our eyes held. Luc opened his mouth about to speak when Amy interrupted.

  “Time for round three, Emmie!”

  I swore softly as Luc chuckled.

  “What do I get this time?” I asked as I slowly braced myself, readying to stand.

  “I’ll break you out of this heap next Saturday and take you to karaoke.”

  “Not exactly a bribe.”

  “Let me finish.” He tapped my nose with his finger in admonishment. “And I’ll sing any song you want.”

  “I pick One Direction.” I flashed a smile as I struggled to push myself up off the whe
elchair.

  “The fuck you do!” Luc stepped back as I took a step forward, my hands braced in a death lock on the beams.

  “Never thought I’d say this, but fail. Just give up!”

  I wanted to laugh but could barely breathe as I panted through the pain and exhaustion. I stumbled forward, taking two steps as the treadmill slowly rolled under my feet. I gasped, bracing as my leg muscles began to spasm.

  “Come on, Emmie!” I glanced over to see Addie, Kel, and Jetta all standing at the door to the gym, cheering. Luc straightened from his crouch before me and glared at them. “Don’t encourage her!”

  “If you’re trying to sabotage her, it must be good!” Kel laughed, punching a fist in the air. “You go girl!”

  I took another step, pushing through the pain.

  Four minutes down, six to go.

  “For the love of the Rolling Stones, don’t do this to me!” Luc begged as I hit five minutes.

  Half way.

  Pleas for mercy, cheers from the girls, and my own determination to see Luc suffer pushed me over the threshold. As I slumped into his arms, gasping for breath, I grinned up at him.

  “Damn, Keys.” He smiled down at me, blue eyes twinkling. “Guess I better brush off my boy band moves.”

  I huffed out a quiet chuckle, feeling hands on me. The girls were right there, helping Luc rearrange my body into the wheelchair.

  “She done?” Jetta asked.

  Amy came over, hands moving to her hips. “Em?”

  I sighed, closing my eyes, knowing this was her way of asking me to push my limits.

  “One more. Then stretches.”

  Amy nodded, grinning in approval. “Good girl. Finish on a high note.”

  My final attempt took me twice as long, the treadmill slow. My leg shook uncontrollably, my body felt a limp noodle while my hip burned. I fought the pain, gritting my teeth as I finally reached the end.

  Thank you, God.

  I lay on the mats, Amy stretching out my joints, listening to her and Luc banter, too tired and broken to make small talk. I wanted a bottle of painkillers and silence. I wanted my bed.

  “You’re good.” Amy stood, holding a hand out to help me to a sitting position. “Shower, then rest. Take two painkillers, no more. I want to see how you go after. Make sure you stand and do those stretches tonight. Tomorrow we’ll get you into the pool.”