Page 7 of Shielded By My Mate

We hang up, and I carry the glasses of water into the living room, passing one to Mira.

“The doctor is on his way,” I tell her as I sit in the chair next to her.

She nods, drinking half the water in one gulp.

“Do you know who those men were?” I ask gently.

She shakes her head, wincing as she shifts on the couch. “No, I woke up in the back of their truck. I think they drugged me.”

She frowns, and I can see her searching her memory for what happened to her.

“Do you know where they took you from? Anything that we can use to find them?”

“I signed up to teach English overseas with my best friend, Ridley. We were supposed to meet at the office, and they were driving us to the airport. That’s the last thing I remember. I have no idea where Ridley is. Is she in danger too? She has to be, right? I mean, why would they do this to me and not her? The whole thing must be a scam and… oh my god.” She breaks off with a sob.

I reach for her instantly, carefully lifting her and cradling her against me. “It’s okay. We’ll find the men and Ridley. You’re safe here. I’ll keep you safe.”

I stroke my fingers through her tangled hair and hold her as she cries on my shoulder.

My bear paces inside me, a ball of anxious energy. You shouldn’t have promised that. We may never find her friend. She could be anywhere.

We’ll find her, I growl at my bear.

A knock sounds at the door, and Christian lets himself in, setting his bag down next to us. His gaze moves over Mira as I shift her in my lap.

“Let the doctor examine you, Angel,” I whisper.

She sniffles and nods, wiping her tears.

I lay her down on the couch and hover over her as Christian looks at her ankle, wrists, and back.

“She has bruises and scrapes, but they should heal quickly. Her ankle and one of her wrists are the worst of her injuries. I’m going to leave a brace and some ointment. You’ll want to keep the cut on her wrist clean and dry. Ice the ankle and keep it elevated. Try not to put any weight on it,” Christian instructs.

Returning to the kitchen, I refill her water and grab ice from the freezer for her ankle. I gently place the bag of ice on her ankle, making sure it’s positioned correctly before draping the blanket from the back of the couch over her.

“I can carry her until her ankle has healed,” I say, stepping back.

Mira shakes her head as she looks at Christian. “He’s been shot! He needs medical attention more than my sprained ankle.”

“Right, let me take a look at you,” Christian says firmly.

I tug my shirt over my head, and he gets to work disinfecting and removing the bullet from my shoulder. I keep my eyes on my mate, noticing her checking me out.

Mira’s eyes are locked on my chest, her gaze traveling over my shoulders, my thick neck, and down my abs. She swallows comically as she stares at me, and I fight the urge to flex for her.

She likes us. She wants us. Smell her arousal, my bear roars happily.

“All done,” Christian says, placing a bandage on the wound that will probably be healed by tomorrow night.

“Thanks, man,” I say sincerely.

“Of course. Call me if you need anything else. In the meantime, here’s the ointment, some more bandages, the brace, and pain medicine. I’ll come by and check on you both in two or three days.”

Mira and I nod and thank him before I walk Christian out.

“Do the others know what happened?” he asks once we’re alone on my porch.

“I called Russo. He was getting some of the guys together to look for the men who were chasing her.”