Page 73 of Property of Rattler

A knock at the door interrupts me. Ames goes to open it, then steps aside to let Bronwyn in. Short’s old lady takes a moment to examine me with her eyes. Then she opens the bag she brought and starts assembling an IV pole.

“Short told me you’d lost a lot of blood. I haven’t any to give you a transfusion, but you do look like you’ll need fluids and ABs.”

“A painkiller will help,” I rasp.

She nods. “That too. But let me see first how I can make you more comfortable. On a scale of one to ten, how much pain are you in?”

Ames had soothed me, bringing me down from a number off the scale. I can only reply, “Nine.”

Ames gasps. I squeeze her hand.

“Let me see what I’m dealing with. Ames, can you give me a hand? We’ve got to get his clothes off.”

My innocentbrideflushes.Of course she does.I hide my amusement. “Have at it ladies. I don’t think I can be of much help.”

Bronwyn starts at my sweats, she loosens the waistband, I help as much as I can to lift my hips, but when I dig my heels into the mattress, my legs buckle. Under the nurse’s instruction, Ames helps, and soon they have them off. I’m panting by the time they’ve finished. And I only just manage to catch Ames’s face flushing red as she realises I’m wearing no underwear. In the efficient way you’d expect from a member of the nursing profession, Bron solves the situation by covering my groin with a towel she’s quickly sourced from Freak’s bathroom.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

AMES

Oh my God. I’ve just seen Flynn’s cock for the second time. Not that I meant to, I was just helping Bronwyn remove his clothes, not expecting he’d gone commando. And just like when he’d exposed himself in the cabin, for a second, I can’t draw my eyes away from it. I never expected to find a man’s dick a thing of beauty, but his? This time I get a much closer look at it. My mouth drops open as I see it’s not too long, but thick.And I bet he knows how to use it.

Ashamed, when I wrench my gaze away, I feel my cheeks blush. Then Bronwyn returns from the en suite and covers it.

Had he caught me looking?His smirk suggests that he did.

“Cut off my shirt, will you?”

I realise I’m being selfish, thinking only of me. He’s not actually smirking, he’s sporting a grimace, telegraphing the pain that he’s in.

Bronwyn quickly delves into her bag and extracts a pair of scissors. She makes quick work of slicing up the front of his t-shirt and into each arm, allowing the garment to fall away. Then she sharply sucks in air, not a good reaction from a seasonednurse. Me? I just want to cry at the wounds covering his body. There are stab wounds still oozing, cigarette burns all over. His shoulder is at an odd angle. And on his hand his ring finger is missing. I gasp and cover my mouth.

Bronwyn, too, is examining his wounds, but in a more clinical way than me. “Ames,” she gets my attention. “I don’t like the way this wound’s still bleeding, can you apply pressure here?” She indicates where she’s holding a bandage to his stomach. “Rat, I’m just going to feel your ribs, okay?” I draw in air as he winces. “Right,” she announces, “you’ve got broken or bruised ribs. There’s nothing I can do for them except tell you to take it easy.” Gently she feels around his shoulder. “This is dislocated. I can put it back in, but it will hurt…”

“Just do it for fuck’s sake.”

“You sure?”

When he nods, she asks, “Ames?” I glance toward her. “Hold him still.”How the fuck do I…?I lean over him, feeling his overheated skin even through my clothes.

He fixes his eyes on mine. I stare into his and take his right hand in the one of mine that isn’t helping to slow his bleeding. Out of the side of my eye, I see Bronwyn expertly taking hold of his arm. Expecting the worst, Flynn starts to tense, I squeeze my fingers… Then there’s an audible click. Flynn shouts, but after only a moment, his face relaxes.

“Fuck, Bron. You’re good at this,” he tells her.

“Should be,” she confirms. “Else all my training is for nothing. You’ll feel more comfortable now. Just let me put on a sling. Now I’m going to start stitching you up. I’ll apply some lidocaine first.” She takes a syringe, and getting me to remove my hand, injects him around his worst wound before encouraging me to apply pressure again. Then she does the same to the other places where he’s been stabbed.

Having stitched up and applied dressings to everywhere he’d been bleeding, she then starts to look at his legs. “Fuck, Rattler, he did a number on you.” He draws in air sharply, and his face pales further. It’s obvious he’s gritting his teeth. “What did he hit you with?”

“A baseball bat. Think he was getting in practise,” he manages to rasp out.

“Waggle your toes for me, will you?” She pauses while he does. She sucks in air and blows it out. “Without x-rays, I can’t tell if they’ve broken anything, there are no obvious breaks, but you’ve sure got some nasty contusions. Short’s still got his crutches somewhere around, you might need to use them for a few days.”

“His ankle was already sprained,” I point down to where it’s still swollen.

Her cheeks round as she sucks in air. “If it’s just sprained it needs rest to heal fully. And Rattler’s got a lot of that in his future.”

Whether he’s going to protest or not, Flynn raises his head, then groans and sets it back down.