“Tell him everything, Kady,” Thorn says as he pulls out of the parking lot. “He’ll make the facts fit B’s injuries. We can’t afford to have the cops called in on this.”
I recount the accident. When I get to the punches Blaise took from Logan and Deacon, Hammer’s fist hits the dashboard. “We need more brothers to come down to the hospital in case one of them comes back to finish the job,” he says to Thorn. “Where’d this Logan guy go?” Hammer asks.
“I…I don’t know. He left before the shooting started.”
“Someone needs to warn Dante,” Thorn says.
The doctor ignores that conversation while he finishes writing his notes. He checks on Blaise and scribbles down a few more things before speaking again.
“Drive into the parking garage,” he directs.
“Lower level?” Thorn asks as if this isn’t the first time they’ve done this.
Inside, I’m screaming,hurry up!
Blaise’s chest rises and falls, but his breathing’s labored.
“He’s a tough one,” the doctor reassures me.
I’ll never forgive myself if…
Hammer turns and stares at me.
Something in his expression says forgiving myself will be theleastof my concerns if Blaise doesn’t make it.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The feeling of nothing is what ends up waking me. That and the stink of antiseptic. I groan and open my eyes. “Kady?”
“I’m here.” To my right, she jumps up and touches my shoulder.
I blink a few times and she comes into view. “Are you okay?”
Instead of answering, she places a cup of water with a straw against my lips. After I take a few swallows, she sets it on the table next to my bed. “I’m fine.”
“How long have I been out of it?” I struggle to sit up, but a bitchslap of pain knocks me back against the mattress.
“Careful. You have two cracked ribs and a concussion. Possibly some nerve damage in your arm.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“The doctors said it was a miracle you were able to walk away from the accident.” Her gaze flicks to the open door, making it clear not all the details of how I got my injuries were shared with the hospital.
“Doc the one who admitted me?”
“Yes.”
I run my gaze over her stiff body. Each cut and bandage sends a new wave of rage over me “You see a doctor?”
“I’m fine.”
I wave my good arm at her. “Come here.”
“I’m right here.”
“No.” I pat the bed.
“We’ll get in trouble,” she warns.
