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“Yes ma'am.”
“Good, be as quick as you can, then give Jess a hand with settling Thane on the rig. We'll need to make room for two, so help her move shit around in there until we can fit in a second patient. It'll be tight but we'll make it work.”
Connie didn’t have the energy to react. Hospital was bad. They'd poke her and prod her, make her take tests and have scans. They'd sedate her, and put things inside her. Oh, she knew the protocols. She'd counselled patients who'd survived the same procedures, but that didn't stop the knowledge from wringing her stomach contents into her throat.
Moaning under her breath, determined not to let them drag her unceremoniously into the emergency room, she made a concerted effort to sit up. Nausea spiked swiftly, her body crying to be left alone to rest. As hands stroked her, she threw up what little she had in her belly, wishing a glass of water would magically appear while the world faded away and left her in peace.
“A little vomit never hurt anyone. Just breathe, Connie. I'm going to take a look at your facial injuries while we wait for Zach to come back.” Ariel's hazel eyes darted to the left, and she smiled. “Jasper, you've already assessed her, right? What's your opinion?”
Connie moaned as the medic and the sadist launched into a conversation on scary medical conditions like bleeds on the brain, broken cheek bones, and fractured skulls. Concussions and contusions. All the outcomes she was aware of when it came to head injuries, but infinitely more terrifying when potentially applied to her.Her gaze drifted to the spot where Thane had taken a bullet and gone down, roaming over the dark splotch on the carpet. How much blood did it take to create a stain that size?
Her overtaxed brain wandered away for a while. There were shapes and voices she recognized, but they were inconsequential. Zach returned with the backboard under his arm, laying it on the carpet. She struggled with the sensation of falling as she was twisted and lifted, then lowered with infinite care onto the cold board. Jasper settled her into position and fussed with her blanket, then rose with more grace and poise than a damn tiger waking from a nap.
“I think we'll get you an IV set up,” Ariel told her. “Sedation would be best, but I'm not going to risk it. You've had some pain meds already, but a low dose so I can give you more if you need it. I agree with Jasper that you've got a mild concussion. The doctors will make that call. Your ribs and stomach are already bruising, so they'll be tender.”
Ariel lifted Connie's left arm out of the way as Anarchy tucked another blanket around her and, working fast, they secured half a dozen straps over Connie's body faster than she could blink. More blankets draped over her as Ariel inserted a cannula.
The pinch of the needle stung, bringing more tears precariously close to the surface, threatening Connie's composure. She'd already cried too much, and they weren't even halfway through the goddamn day.
“It's just fluids, I promise.” Deft fingers connected a tube to a full plastic bag of clear liquid, then removed the air bubbles from the pipe before it was attached to the cannula. “Atticus, can you and Jasper carry the board out? I need to keep this elevated.”
Humiliation complete, Connie closed her eyes and prayed she didn't wake up in hell.
*
“Sir, I'm afraid you need to get back into bed. You've just had surgery—”
Thane gritted his teeth and took another step, using his IV stand on wheels as a crutch. Dismissing the nurse flitting around him like a nervous hummingbird, he shuffled from the bathroom. The surgeon said the surgery had gone well. The bullet had gone straight through, missing bone and vital blood supplies, but it had bled like an absolute bitch, partially because he hadn't done the sane thing and tried not to move after being shot.
While he hated earning anyone's disapproval, he took pride in knowing he'd done what he'd needed to.
Now he was patched up, and once again, he was doing what was important. Vital.
Connie was on his mind. Every thought circled around her. Every question was about her. Since waking up the day before, his IV stand loaded with blood and fluids, he'd been itching to see his girl and make sure she was all right.
He’d just needed to pee without a damn tube up his dick first.
Dreams had plagued him, leaving him with asickness in his gut that told him he hadn't been fast enough to stop Guthrie from working his cock into Connie, but he was lucid enough now to discern dreams from reality. Thank fuck. If he had one more disturbed nightmare where he woke in cold sweat, roaring like a wounded bull, while images of his woman being raped plucked his worst fears like guitar strings, he'd have tracked down Guthrie's body. Dismembered it. Anything to dispel the illusion of failing Connie when she needed him.
The Masters told him she was doing okay, but they didn't expand on it. It left Thane with questions he didn't like. Does she not want to see me anymore? Is she hurt more badly than anyone's telling me? Is she traumatized? No one seemed eager to give him straight answers, so he would grin and bear through the post-surgical pain and hunt her down himself.
“If you want to be helpful,” he told the nurse, “you can tell me where to find Connie Monroe.”
“I'm not a directory, Mr. Isaacson. I'm here to see you stay in bed and recover from the operation you just had. Now, come with me before you fall.” She offered him a prim hand, her wedding ring gleaming gold beneath the soft lighting.
Ignoring her hand, Thane inched toward the glass front of his room, pausing on the threshold of the open door. Glancing around, he came to the conclusion this wasn't a regular hospital. Everything seemed smaller, quieter, more homelythan any hospital he'd ever been in. A dozen rooms were contained in two rows of six, glass-fronted boxes with sliding doors. The corridor was wide enough to drive a couple of SUVs past each other, and there was a nurse's station planted in the middle. Two entrances, one at each end of the corridor.
What the hell kind of wonderland had he fallen into now?
“I'm coming, sugar,” he muttered, setting off down the nearest row of rooms as the nurse called him an idiot. “I may be an idiot, but my girlfriend is here, and I need to find her. You could make it a lot less strenuous.” He gave her a baleful look when she stared at him disapprovingly. “In case you missed it, that was your opportunity to give me directions.”
“Mr. Isaacson, you're going to fall unless you sit down and rest. You really shouldn't be wandering around so soon after a major surgery. You lost an incredible amount of blood, which several donors have kindly replenished, and I'm not happy about you—”
“Look, Dina,” Thane snapped, hobbling to a halt and turning in a slow, undignified circle with his stand. “I went through hell yesterday. I got shot, which isn't new to me. Aside from the inconvenience, I couldn't give a shit. But I went through hell because I left my lover unprotected, in a situation she couldn't defend herself from. For all the hell I suffered through, it's nothing compared to hers. She needs me now, and I'm not going to let her down twice in as many days, do you hear me?”
Impatient jade eyes narrowed on his face as the nurse shoved her hand through short blonde locks. “If I promise you I’ll do my best to get the woman you’re looking for to you, will you please return to your bed?”
His legs were starting to wobble, much to his disgust. He tightened his grip on the stand, just in case, grimacing when his bruised appendage cried for mercy. Beating the hell out of a guy played hell with the knuckles. “Is that a sincere promise? Because I will walk every floor of this damn place until I find her. No one's giving me anything but generic updates on her condition, and it's not gonna fly anymore.”
