Page 29 of Craving Sin

“Is he wearing the monitor?” I ask.

“Yeah. I sent you the information.”

That’s good. That way, we can both monitor him.

“The two of you should have everything you need. I’m going to work on flushing out these fucking brothers so we can take them out and get you home.”

“Good,” I say. “The sooner the better.”

The faster I kill Abbott and get on with my life, the better.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Rian

The doc is awake when we go back inside. Before I have the chance to do or say much of anything, he tells me, “Your fever broke last night. I’d like to check it again and take a peek at your wound.”

“I’m fine,” I say. I’m tired of being taken care of, tired of being a patient, and just want to feel like myself.

“Don’t be stubborn. How will you kill me if you die?” he asks.

“I’ll do it, remember?” Conan slips around me.

I chuckle. “Get the fuck out of here. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“I’ll be in touch.” Conan pats me on the back before giving his attention to the doc. “You remember what I told you?”

“Your threats to kill me and hurt anyone I’ve ever cared about? Yes, I remember.” He struggles to get out of bed, but can’t with the way he’s cuffed to the headboard. He settles back again, sighing in frustration.

“Here.” Conan gives me my gun and the keys. He’ll be taking the car and getting rid of it, leaving his behind for me. I’m grateful he doesn’t argue about me being alone with Abbott, but then, he knows that when it comes down to it, I’ll always do what needs to be done.

He disappears from the room, and I tuck my gun into my pants, already frustrated about having to do everything one-handed. I walk over to Abbott. I don’t know what makes me do it, but when he doesn’t look at me, I grab his chin with my hand and turn his head until his eyes meet mine.

His stubble prickles against my skin. His breathing picks up, my eyes catching on the pulse beating rapidly in his neck, drawn there too long. “You’re going to be good when I unlock you. Don’t think you can overpower me because I’m hurt. Don’t think there is anything you can do to win this. That will never happen.”

He juts his chin out, not shrinking himself or backing down. “I know what my fate is. Your friend made sure to tell me all the ways he’ll make other people hurt if I screw up.”

“He’s very good at making people hurt…though, I am too.” I let his face go, then manage to unlock the handcuffs only using one hand.

Once free, the doc immediately drops his arms and begins massaging one hand, then the other, making me wonder if he’s hurting. Lack of circulation, maybe? Not that it should matter. It doesn’t matter, really.

I step back when he stands, telling me, “Sit down.”

I cock a brow, but he doesn’t amend how he spoke to me, just watches me with a face that’s all business. “Yes, Doctor,” I tease.

“You’re in a good mood today,” he says, after I sit on the bed, his words taking me aback. Why had I joked with him that way? We’re not friends. We’re not anything. I certainly shouldn’t be doing or saying anything to him to make him feel that way.

“Hurry up and do what you need to do.”

He unstraps the sling and sets it aside. I’m shirtless, so he just goes for the tape on my wound next, uncovering it.

“Looks much better,” he says. “There was a lot of redness, but it’s gone down.” I look and see he’s drawn a circle around my injury.

“What’s that for?”

“To see if the redness spread, but it didn’t. It’s actually smaller. I didn’t want to risk you going septic. I’ve been keeping a sharp eye on that. You heal very well.”

“I’m good. What can I say?” I ask, and he rolls his eyes.