“That’s what the vamp said,” I slur, blinking a few times to focus enough to see we’re outside a hospital.
“Pretty sure it’s ‘that’s what she said.’”
“But vampsareeasy.”
He wraps a hand over my shoulder and pulls me toward him before helping me all the way off his bike.
“Wouldn’t that mean a Hound would have said it and not a ‘she’?”
We stumble toward the emergency room doors. Good boy that Kooper is, he parked in a regular parking spot, ignoring the fact that we’re the ones who need the emergency spot.
“Why are we walking? We’re injured.”
He looks down at me, and I see him roll his eyes before he looks forward again. “You got a scratch on your head and that’s it.”
“And what about you?”
“What about me?” he grunts.
I give a deep sigh and shake my head. “I might be seeing double or triple depending on what’s in front of me, but I still see that your arm is limp as shit next to you.”
He just glares straight ahead.
“Like your dick,” I snicker, then end up coughing and slowing us down further.
“Thought the vamps were supposed to say that?”
My eyes go wide at his teasing words a second before we stumble into the not-so-busy waiting room. Either Kooper drove us farther away from the shooting, or no one else was hurt and needed aid. I’m praying for the second. I might not like everyone I meet, but I don’t want to be the reason a person is injured. If that guy was there to take me out because I’m the kid of someone in the club, then I should be the only one hurt. Well,theyshould be way more hurt than me. Dead. They should be dead.
I should ask Kooper if he took care of that guy or just got us out of there. I’m not looking for club details, just need to know if I should watch our backs as Kooper tells the nurses at the station that we need help.
“Always protect your six.”Dad’s voice echoes in my head, and I take a deep breath and look behind us, closing one eye to limit the double vision.
“Don’t worry, we weren’t followed.” Warm breath fills my ear, and I blink and slowly turn my head to look into his intense eyes.
“Miss, please take a seat.” The small moment we shared breaks at the nurse’s clipped words, and I turn to see a wheelchair. I snarl at it.
“Rather walk.”
“Sit down before you fall down,” Kooper says as he forces my ass into the chair.
I get off a glare at him before I’m turned and wheeled back. I know he’s following me. No way would he let me go into a hospital alone after what just happened. If we were back home and this were General’s hospital, a brother’s place of business, I might be alone. But from the looks of things, this ain’t it. For one thing, the hospital walls are lime green. The ones back home are beige. I prefer that to the puke color, but I’m not the one who has to look at them all day. Hopefully, we’ll only be here a few hours.
“Let’s get you up on the table, and we’ll get that wound clean and checked before the doctor comes in and has a look.”
I always did like nurses more than doctors. They seem to be the ones who do most of the stuff anyway. Doctors get the credit, but the nurses are the ones who patch you up and put cute color Band-Aids over your boo-boos.
In typical Hound behavior, Kooper stands guard at the open curtained-off area. He watches everything going on, and I watch him.
“You talk to my dad?” I ask.
“Phone’s broken.”
“Want to use mine?”
He raises one eyebrow. “You got it on you?”
Shit. It’s back there. If I’m lucky, campus police will find it and just assume I lost it when I was running for cover like everyone else. I don’t need to get kicked out of school over this. I doubt they would blame a victim, but who knows how people will see this.
