Sheriff raises his finger, pointing menacingly at Raven. I swear, I’m going to break that damn finger off his hand.
“I don’t give a shit. They’re troublemakers. Always have been, always will be. I don’t need them messing with my scene.” He looks her up and down, aiming to make Raven feel small. “And I have some questions for you concerning all of?—”
“Hey! Sheriff!” A man with a bolo tie, cowboy hat, and a Texas Rangers badge pinned to his chest strides right for us. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Doing my job,” the sheriff barks back.
“I’m not a newborn calf, Jackson. I told your deputy to inform me when you arrived. What took you so long to get here? And why were my rangers on scene way before you and your men?”
The sheriff’s face turns the same shade as a ripe tomato.
Snaking my arm around Raven’s torso, I spin us in the direction of the ambulance, leaving the sheriff to get his ass chewed out. “You’re hurt, Sunshine. Let’s get you patched up.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
KNOX
If I hadn’t stopped Griffin, the sheriff might be dead right now. I saw how Raven twitched when the sheriff raised his voice. I was gearing up to go but quickly changed directions when I saw the way Griffin went impossibly still and curled his hand into a fist. If Griffin is ready to throw punches, then I know it’s bad.
But as much as I’d love to beat Sheriff Jackson bloody, Raven’s health and safety come first.
I step up into the ambulance and narrow my eyes at the EMT who had his hands on Raven earlier. “Out,” I bark at him.
The man recoils and shields his face with his hand. I grip his upper arm and guide him so he’s standing.
Leaning so I’m closer to his face, I repeat myself, “Out.” He doesn’t waste time as he scrambles out the back.
Griffin helps Raven up, and I grip her hips and lift her onto the gurney.
“You didn’t have to scare off the professional,” Raven jokes.
“Yes, I did,” I reply.
“Why?” Raven’s brows scrunch in question.
Because I came close to putting him in the hospital.
Because no one else gets to touch you.
Because I need to be the one to take care of you.
But none of that comes out of my mouth. Instead, I gently hold Raven’s injured hand in mine, assessing the cut on the back of her hand.
“What happened?”
“A piece of glass. The EMT removed it, and he got the bleeding to stop, but I think I opened it up again.”
I dig around the drawers and cabinets for the supplies I need. Tossing a wipe and gauze to Griffin, I instruct him to clean Raven’s cut and slow down the bleeding. When I find what I’m looking for, I sit back down on the bench in front of Raven and reassess the cut.
“It seems you’re always around when I need a doctor,” Raven jokes again.
“I’d rather it be me taking care of you instead of some…person,” I explain.
“You mean ‘man?’” Raven asks with raised brows.
I disregard her accurate assessment. She doesn’t need to know the extent of my obsession.
I ask, “Are you okay with needles? I need to numb the area.”
