Page 86 of Fighting For You

Harlan arrived in under a minute. He looked at the paramedic's report, looked at Knox, and started ordering. "Let's get X-rays on the left wrist and ankle. Full series. CBC, chem panel, and a CT if anything looks off on exam. Clean those abrasions and get me a better look at the shoulder."

I took the orders. I pulled the supply cart to the bedside, gloved up, and started cleaning the road rash on his arm. Knox held still while I worked. His jaw was tight but he didn't make a sound.

The X-rays came back clean. No fractures. The bloodwork was normal. His ankle was sprained, his wrist was sprained, and the rest was abrasions and bruising. He'd been lucky. The helmet had taken the worst of it.

I peeled my gloves off and looked at him.

"Do you see what I mean now?"

He looked at me.

"The motorcycle, Knox. Do you see what I'm saying?"

He leaned his head back against the pillow and closed his eyes. "Yeah. I'm not going to be riding it again anytime soon."

"Good."

He opened one eye. "That was a very calm 'good' for someone whose hands were shaking two minutes ago."

I put my hand on his face. He leaned into it.

"You scared me."

"I know." He covered my hand with his. "I promise I won't do it again."

"I doubt that." I almost smiled. "But thank you."

I leaned in. His eyes were on my mouth, and I was close enough to feel his breath on my lips when the curtain pulled back. Sullivan stepped into the bay. He looked at Knox on the bed, at the gauze on his arm, at the wrist brace.

"What happened?"

Knox sat up straighter. "A group of motorcycles boxed me in on Tropicana. One of them cut in front and braked. I went down at about thirty."

Sullivan's jaw tightened. "Your recklessness hasn't changed, has it?"

Knox looked back at his father.

Sullivan held his gaze, then looked at me. "Make sure he has proper discharge instructions. Wound care for the abrasions, ice and elevation for the sprains, follow up with his primary in forty-eight hours. And make sure he actually follows them."

"Yes, Dr. Sullivan."

He left without saying anything else.

I watched him go. Then I looked at Knox.

"He seems concerned."

Knox looked at the curtain his father had just walked through. "Yeah. That's about the best he can do."

I was writing up Knox's discharge instructions when a man I didn't recognize came through the ER entrance. Dark suit, badge on his belt, a folder under his arm. He scanned the floor, spotted Knox's bay, and walked straight to it.

"Knox Sullivan?"

"Yeah."

"Detective Kieran Thorne. Gang Crimes, LVMPD." He showed his badge, then pulled a chair to the bedside and sat down. "I'm here about the motorcycle incident on Tropicana. We pulled the traffic camera footage. The group that boxed you in was riding in a coordinated formation. That's not road rage. That's targeted."

Knox didn't say anything.