Page 30 of Striker’s Rebel

“That makes absolutely no sense.”

“Makes sense to me.”

She shakes her head. “I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.”

“I have bruises, Striker.”

“And that shoulder hurts.”

She opens her mouth.

I give her a look.

She closes it again.

Good girl.

“You need somebody to check it.”

“I do not need a doctor because somebody grabbed me.”

“Razor can look at it.”

Her forehead creases. “Who is Razor?”

“One of my brothers. Club doctor. Used to be a combat medic.”

She stares at me.

“Your doctor is named Razor?”

“Yeah.”

“That seems like something patients should know before agreeing to treatment.”

“You’ll survive the name.”

“I’m more worried about the bill.”

“There isn’t one.”

Her expression shifts. “You cannot just take me to some doctor and decide I don’t have to pay him.”

“Can if he’s my brother.”

“That sounds suspiciously illegal.”

“It isn’t.”

“Very convincing.”

I laugh.

Her eyes widen slightly.

“What?”