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The doctor swearing straightened my spine. It didn’t feel professional to me, but I sat silently and chose not to comment on that or anything else as I watched him tuck his phone into the giant pocket filling his chest.
“What happened?” Remi demanded. “Is she okay? Of course, she isn’t, or they wouldn’t have fucking called!”
“Olivier found your phone in your truck. He said there were over a dozen missed calls and messages from Beyond Heaven. He said something about a woman there. She’s in a bad way, Remi.”
“Keep an eye on her for me.” He pointed at me but still moved to the door without so much as a goodbye.
“She’s been taken into the psych ward. She’s under twenty-four-hour supervision. I doubt they’ll let you see her tonight.” The doctor pulled at Remi’s arm. “You can use the phone in my office. The number is speed dial three.”
“I’m going there, Rodregez.” He shrugged off the doctor, eager to walk out the door.
“Remi, wait!” I called, not ready for a separation, and to my surprise, he stopped, turning on his heel, his sneaker squealing against the shiny tiles as he faced me.
“You’ll be fine. Swearing aside, he’s professional and he’s good.” His eyes warned the doctor something in silence. “When I return, I wouldn’t mind you checking my ears. I think my hearing aid is fucked, and the other one needs that spray stuff you get for me. I can’t stand the ringing.”
He was a second from pulling open the door and walking out of it.
I couldn’t let that happen.
If I were alone with my thoughts, they’d kill me before my failing heart or any vengeful master could.
“You should get your stomach and your hand stitched first.”
He swallowed, and his stare turned cold enough to chill me. “I’m fine.” He nodded and turned away.
The doctor didn’t agree, siding with me about stuff he didn’t really know. He stopped the door from opening, his palm against the wood as Remi pulled on the handle.
“Your stomach?” the doctor questioned, raising an eyebrow to the heavens.
“He was stabbed,” I answered from the bed, and Remi turned his whole body back to me, looking almost furious.
“Aren’t victims usually repressed and quiet?”
Usually, but I wasn’t. I was vocal and loud and played on the wrong kind of nerves, which was why I was always due a punishment.
“Let me see,” the doctor demanded, stepping in Remi’s path as he took two steps toward me.
Remi rolled his eyes, his bloody fingers tugging up the hem of a bloodier T-shirt. The gash in his lower left abdomen looked angry. Blood still oozed out, blending into the color of his dark jeans.
“I thought the blood was hers.”
“I’m fine.”
“The hell you are. You’re not going anywhere, boy, not until I stitch that up. I need to make sure nothing inside is ruptured.”
Again, Remi looked at me like he wanted to kill me, but he didn’t step closer. He stepped away and ignored the doctor’s advice, wrenching the door open.
“I am going.”
“It can wait.”
“No, she can’t! She’s important to me.”
“And this one?”
Remi stopped dead, one foot out the door. “Also, important to me. So, make sure she’s safe and healthy, and if that isn’t the case, do what you must do to make that happen.”
“You could end up dead!”
