“Do you have a medical kit?”
Blake paused. The kind of pause that meant his doctor brain was already cataloging worst-case scenarios. “Why?”
“Can you meet me at Faith’s?”
“Is she okay?” Panic seized his voice, sharp and immediate. The protective big-brother mode activated in zero-point-two seconds.
“Physically, she’s fine.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” I could hear the engine of his car groaning louder as he accelerated. “Ryker, I swear to God?—”
“Just … can you meet me there?”
“Tell me what’s going on, or my head’s going to fucking spin. And you know what happens when doctors get anxious? We imagine every possible medical catastrophe. Is that what you want? Me showing up with a defibrillator and trauma kit?”
I flexed my hand against the steering wheel. “A man disrespected Faith. Now I think my knuckles need stitches.”
Another pause. Then, surprisingly, a low chuckle. “Jesus Christ, Ryker. You couldn’t have led with that? Here I am, thinking Faith’s hurt, and you’re calling because you went all caveman defender?”
“She was crying, Blake.” The words scraped raw with the memory of tears on her face. “Some asshole made her cry.” I left out the part where the guy laid hands on her. If I told Blake that, he might crash.
“Next time, aim for the body. Faces are all bone,” Blake said. “Bad for the hands.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I’ll be there soon. Try not to bleed on her carpet. She’ll castrate you if you ruin it.”
“Compassionate as always, Doc.”
“See you soon. And, Ryker?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks. For defending her. Even if you are an idiot who doesn’t know how to throw a proper punch.”
The line went dead before I could respond. Typical Blake. Butas I pulled into Faith’s driveway, cradling my busted hand against my chest, I caught my reflection in the rearview mirror.
Blood on my shirt. Bruises forming on my knuckles. Absolutely zero regret in my eyes.
Yeah, I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
Hopefully, Faith wouldn’t be pissed at what I’d done …
38
FAITH
“Hey,”I said, yanking open the door. “Why’d you get here so fast? I thought you had a meeting—” The words died in my throat. My eyes went cartoon-character wide. “What happened to your hand?”
“Don’t ask questions that could incriminate you.” Ryker pushed past me, all six foot two of pure, distilled anger. His body radiated heat like a furnace set to destroy.
Rainbow noticed too. She started barking at him.
Now that I looked closer, his lip was split. And there was blood on his shirt. A smear of it across his collar, another splatter near his ribs.
“Oh my God.” The realization hit me like a slap. “You confronted Brett.”
More barking.
