I hear another sound… What is that? Was that a whine? I move closer to the dumpster as the sound reaches me again. Yep, definitely a whine. I walk around the dumpster, crouch, bend my head and peer into the space behind it. Bright eyes blink back at me. The puppy whines again.
"Hey, buddy," I hold out my hand, let the little bugger sniff at my fingers. When I move back, the dog follows. It wriggles out from behind the dumpster, pants, then glances up at me.
"Whatcha doing there, buddy? Are you lost?"
The pup plants its butt on the ground, and cocks its head at me.
"Who’s your owner, boy?" I take in its tiny body, the ribsthat show through its skin. It’s not bleeding, but clearly, it hasn’t eaten for a while. "How about I get you some food?"
The pup stiffens. A low warning growl emerges from its threat.
"What?" I scowl. "What’s wrong?"
The puppy barks at the same time that I hear footsteps behind me. I turn, when something hits me on the head. Pain blinds me, then everything goes dark.
9
Sinclair
Sensations creep up my fingers, my arms. I snap my eyes open and bright light sears my retinas. A noise from somewhere nearby sends alarm racing through me. I blink, try to rise, and pain slices through my head. "Bloody hell."
I gasp, try to push against the pain, and the thud-thud-thud in my brain ratchets up to a wailing scream. "Jesus." I collapse back; sweat beads my brow.
"Relax," a woman's voice says, "you're at the hospital."
"Hospital?" I grind out, digging my fingers into the fabric under my hands—which I now assume are sheets. "What the hell happened?" I touch my forehead, my fingers brush the bandage there. Pain shudders down my spine and I wince.
Something hit me. No, someone. Bastard hit me frombehind. The bastard didn't have the courage to show me his face. Well, no shit, if I'd caught sight of his features, he’d be dead. You can bet I won’t stop until I’ve tracked him down. The pain seems to intensify even further. I grit my teeth, draw in a breath, then another.
"I'll call the nurse, I am sure she'll be able to get you painkillers?—"
"No," I bite out, "no painkillers." No way, am I going to allow myself to be helpless again.
"aspirin, then?" The woman's voice is matter of fact, ”Surely, that's allowed?"
I turn to the woman, who's seated in a chair near the bed. She's wearing a stylish if practical skirt and jacket. The gray that streaks her hair is a contrast to her youthful features. There's an air of authority to her that reminds me of my own mother...before she died.
"Who're you?" I snap.
"She saved your life, you asshole." Saint turns from the window. Bastard's freshly shaven, wearing a suit and tie. He looks as put together as I feel on death's door.
"What are you doing here and why the hell are you all suited up?" I growl.
"I see being beaten up has done wonders for your disposition. Not." He smirks, "I came to make sure you were still alive... which clearly you are." He looks me up and down, "Barely. And I'm on my way to the pitch with our investors, remember?"
Of course. The most important meeting of my life and I am laid up in bed. I struggle to sit up, and sparks flash behind my eyes.
"Shit," I collapse back again, "the hell is wrong with me?"
"Umm, maybe it has something to do with the fact that your face got intimate with the fists of strangers?" Saint chuckles, and the sound sends another burst of pain ricocheting through my skull.
"Fuck, I'm dying." I draw in a breath and the scent of disinfectant fills my nostrils. If hell were a place, surely, it would smell the same. "I need to get out of here."
"I'll get the nurse." The woman rises to her feet.
"No." I grit my teeth against the pain, "No painkillers. No aspirin. I'll be fine."
She narrows her gaze on me, then shrugs, "Suit yourself."
