Twisted Together - Winters Pepper - Страница 76
- Предыдущая
- 76/124
- Следующая
Mild concussion. Dislocated shoulder. Twisted kneecap. Missing thumb. Not including the multiple contusions, bruises, and scrapes from the assholes who’d almost killed him in order to get to Q.
I lived an entire lifetime in those four hours. More than one. Multiple.
I went insane—hemmed in a private room, barricaded by two police officers waiting for Franco. At least they’d removed the handcuffs, but I was no less a prisoner.
My mind was my enemy, constantly flinging horror and torture of Q’s demise. I finally gritted my teeth, humming nonsense under my breath, just to keep my brain occupied and not conjuring such awfulness.
Three times the officers tried to question me. Three times I refused. I wouldn’t talk—not until I knew what Franco wanted me to say. I wasn’t privy to what was in motion outside our sad little group. I didn’t want to ruin Q’s chances any more than I already had by being so reckless in a foreign country and getting arrested.
I looked up as the white door swung open. Franco was wheeled into the room by an orderly. One arm was in a sling, leading to a thick bandage around his hand. Only the tips of his fingers showed.
His face was black and yellow as bruises painted him like a watercolour.
I shot off the bed where I’d been going mad with waiting. The door swung closed behind the man in scrubs. “Are you okay? Did it work?” I looked at the bandage, eyeing it for any sign of a thumb tip. My eyes widened. “But there’s no…”
“They tried, but the way the cocksuckers smashed the joint means it’s pretty much useless. Plus, this is a local hospital. They don’t have too many specialists on call unless I’m flown elsewhere.”
I was torn. Completely cleaved down the centre. I wanted to run after Q but I didn’t want Franco to live a thumbless life. Hell, that was the most important finger. I would be on my own. “Well, go. Tell me what the plan is and leave. I’ll do the rest.”
He shook his head. “I signed the paperwork already. Even if they did manage to attach it, I’d have to stay in for observation for a week. This way, I only have to pop in for a check-up in twenty-four hours.” His eyes flashed. “I refuse to sit on my broken ass. Not while he’s out there. A thumb can wait—we don’t know…” his voice trailed off, filling me with terror.
We don’t know what they’re doing to him.
The sentence was left unsaid but it might as well have been scrawled in permanent marker and left to drift around like a haunting banner. It was undeniable which made it all the more awful.
“As much as I’m grateful for your loyalty to him, you can’t throw away your thumb.”
He shrugged. “I’m a millionaire thanks to Q’s generosity. Plus, he’s fucking loaded. If I save his scrawny ass, I know he won’t mind forking out for some crazy expensive, new-fangled robot thumb.” Franco locked the wheelchair with his good arm, flipped up the footholds, and held out his hand. “Now help me up. We’re leaving.”
Going to the side, I grabbed his elbow. I did the best I could to hoist his bulk from the chair. The moment he stood, he limped to the wardrobe where the doctors had put his clothes and with no embarrassment whatsoever untied the backless hospital gown and let it fall.
I coughed, averting my eyes. But not before I got an eyeful. He was built bigger than Q. Stocky, hard-packed muscle that wasn’t as elegant as Q’s sleek sensual form. But what he lacked in sexual appeal he made up for in sheer power.
He hopped and cursed, wrangling his trousers up over the bandage around his knee to his hips. With his face scrunched in concentration, he zipped his fly one-handed. Once that part of him was covered, he turned, holding out his blood-stained shirt.
“Help me. I can’t do it.”
Keeping my eyes downcast, I took the clothing and moved to his side to carefully remove his arm from his sling. “Did they put your shoulder back into place?” I kept my voice low, distracting him as I pushed the cuff over his hand, drawing it upward.
He gritted his teeth. “Yes, it’s workable, just sore. It’ll swell soon, and it’ll get worse before it gets better, but I’ll live.”
“You’ve done it before?”
He chuckled, wincing as I wrapped the shirt around his back. “I’ve been with Q for a while, Tess. I’ve been in worse condition. He’s been in worse. And we’ve both walked away, while the ones who challenged us didn’t.”
His body vibrated with dangerous tension; I allowed his strength to wash over me. Being around him half-naked made me extremely uncomfortable, but also strangely calmed me. I trusted in his abilities to bring Q home.
Franco placed his arm back for me to slink up the other cuff, settling the shirt into place. Once it clung to his shoulders, he faced me with a quirked eyebrow. “Do it up, please. Missing a thumb over here.”
I laughed which turned into a weird snort-sob thing.
Q, I’m missing you so damn much.
I wanted someone to reassure me. I wanted a crystal ball to know he would survive and stay in one piece until we found him. It felt so wrong doing such normal things when every instinct inside wanted to hunt and murder.
Franco dropped the quip in his voice. “We’ll find him, Tess. You’ll see. The only one losing any body parts is me. After all, I’m the bodyguard. I take the hard hits so he doesn’t have to.” His large knuckles brushed under my eye, catching a renegade tear. “Believe me. I’m not going to let him die.”
Franco was strong; I had to trust him. It was just easier thought than done.
The door swung open just as I finished securing the last button. A doctor, with hair so black it looked like polished obsidian, blinked in surprise. “What do you think you are doing? You’re not discharged. Get back into bed, sir.”
Franco growled under his breath. “I’m done. I’ve allowed you to poke and prod me. But now I’m leaving. I thank you for your expertise, but you can’t hold me against my will.”
“He might not be able to. But I can.” The detective with black hair and silver temples appeared behind the doctor. His smooth jaw was stiff with authority; his body pompous and full of power granted to him by the badge over his heart. “Seeing as you’re well enough to check yourself out, you’re well enough to come in for questioning.”
Nodding to a few of the men standing outside, he ordered, “Please escort these two to the station. I’ll interrogate them myself.”
Two policemen entered the room, pushing aside the doctor who clutched a clipboard to his chest. He didn’t protest as one man came for me and the other beelined for Franco.
Franco shoved the scrawny cop away and made a show of shrugging into his blazer unassisted. Once the black jacket was in place, he gingerly looped his sore arm back into the sling. “If you want to start questioning, I have one. You have something of mine. Two things actually, and I want them back. My guns. Where are they?”
I jerked away as a pudgy baby-faced cop took my elbow. “Take your hands off me.” I glowered. I had no intention of being separated from Franco. I didn’t care who they were and what law they were upholding. I would fight all of them.
The detective bared his teeth. “Yes, and it’s another reason why we are going to talk. Bringing weapons into Italia is a serious offence. I hope you have the necessary international paperwork, otherwise it could be a long holiday for both of you behind bars.”
My heart sped up as panic filled my stomach. “Please, this is a terrible misunderstanding. Let us go. We’ll come back for questioning when we’ve done what we need to do.”
When I’ve got my fiance back. When he’s in my arms and home. Then they could lock me up and torture me for all I cared. At least Q would be safe.
The detective laughed—obnoxiously loud. “You think you can just pop in whenever you feel like it? Who the hell do you think you are? Some uppity tourist thinking they can flaunt the rules. I’m sick of your kind coming to my country and not respecting our laws. You’re coming with us. And there is nothing you can say to prevent that.” He nodded at the man beside me.
- Предыдущая
- 76/124
- Следующая
