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“Nyet. Just some fluids. We’ll get an IV started in just a moment. Your bandaging didn’t look like much but it helped, believe me.”
I nod, grateful for someone with a level head. He quickly wipes at Hark’s neck checking for I guess gashes or nicks besides the big one in his shoulder.
“Did you see who shot him?”
This is where it gets tricky. How much do I share? I give away the fact the king of the Titan empire is dead, I’ll show my hand. I can’t reveal how vulnerable I am. I don’t know where we are and trust doesn’t come to me naturally. Not anymore. And technically, I didn’t see Sean shoot Hark.
It’s a gray area, but I’m okay walking thin lines.
I hug myself. Anything to keep the sight of my hands tucked away. “I don’t know. It all happened so fast, Doctor Rook.”
I’m not ready for that level of conversation. I don’t know if I ever will be, to be honest. I just want to put tonight behind me. Find a way to disappear where my past can’t find me and rip a hole in my chest all over again.
Thankfully he’s done with the questions. The new guy returns with warm water and I step back to let them work.
The new guy strips Hark—Dragon—of his gun and the leather harness.
“Where’s the other?”
“In the truck, on the seat.”
New Guy tosses the worn leather over the vest—a cut they had called it before placing the single gun on a nearby table.
I am not prepared for the sight when I move in close. Blood oozes from the wound the size of a dime. Rivers of pink run down Hark’s chest and arm when Rook clears the injury with water. I hold my stomach. Oh, God, this man is suffering, again and again, all because of me.
Rook notices me balling my dress in my fists. “You can freak out later, sweetheart. Grab some gauze. I have to double-check to see if the bullet went through clean. You’ll have to be my nurse.”
“Flesh wound, huh?”
“He’ll be fine. Casanova, prep an IV.”
Hark grunts and wakes when Rook probes the hole. “You’re hurting him.”
“The tough bastard will live.”
“You better hope so, Doc.” Hark is wearing his signature smirk, but his eyes are closed. “I have plans after you finish.”
Rook pokes around for what feels like forever before declaring it a clean wound, but Hark takes it with only a flinch of pain every so often.
“Went clean through and a massive amount of fucking luck the bullet missed the bone. Told you. No worse than a flesh wound. He’ll be sore but fine after a few days.”
I have a feeling he’s downplaying the injury for my sake.
I notice another bullet wound maybe a centimeter from this one. This one whited over and puckered. “Damn. How many times has he been shot at?”
“Plenty. And if I know Dragon, his ass will be trying to climb out of this bed the second we clear out.”
New Guy chuckles as he rolls over an IV pole while keeping his eyes off the blood.
“There you go, Doc.” New Guy rubs at the back of his neck and looks just as pale as Hark. It seems the sight of blood churns his stomach.
“Here, let me.”
I take the gauze he’s about to pick up and help clean the crook of Hark’s elbow before the Doc puts in an IV. Next, he starts on the stitches. It’s slow-going and meticulous. In. Out. Swoop, tie a knot. Then on to the next. And then the back. By the time Rook finishes Hark is getting color back in his cheeks.
“He’ll bust through these in a couple of days. The man does not understand the wordstake it easy. Make sure he gets his ass back here when he does. Or it’s staples and those SOBS hurt like a mother,” he informs me.
I believe him.
