Natasha’s teeth chatter as I lower her into the car. I don’t want to let go of her, but I have to get her back to my building so Dr. Asgood can examine her.
“I’ll follow you over,” Elliott says, and all I can do is nod as I sprint to the other side of the car and get behind the wheel.
Natasha whimpers again, clearly in pain and uncomfortable from the fever, and it makes my already-broken heart ache.
“Did I die?” she whispers, and I whip my gaze over to find her watching me through glassy eyes. “Or is this a dream? You smell so good.”
“Neither.”
“Are you going to hurt me?”
“No.” Christ, I’ll keep reminding her over and over again. “No, Angel, I won’t hurt you. I’m going to get you some help.”
“Can’t afford a hospital,” she whispers, and then she’s asleep once more.
If I could, I’d string myself up and slowly,veryfucking painfully, skin myself alive.
I make a quick call to Rome and give him the watered down version of the past hour, and after he swears in my ear, he promises to tell the others, and then hangs up on me.
Yeah, I’m pissed at me too.
As soon as I pull into the underground garage, my car is surrounded by my men, including Jack, who has a gurney waiting for us.
“How—”
“Elliott called me.”
I glance over at my son and give him a nod. His eyes are filled with worry as he nods back, and then we work as a team to get Natasha on the rolling bed and up to the medical care that’s waiting for her.
My brothers and I hired Dr. Asgood years ago. She’s exclusively on our payroll and is on call for us twenty-four seven. She’s an amazing doctor, and she’s discreet, which makes her perfect for our organization.
“Over here,” the doctor says as we walk inside, gesturing for us to roll Natasha to the corner where four other medical staff are waiting. “What do we know?”
“Not much,” I reply grimly. “We found her like this. I have no idea what her injuries are, or just how sick she is.”
“A puzzle,” Dr. Asgood murmurs as she takes Natasha’s temperature. The others work on taking her blood pressure, putting in an IV, and all the other things they need to do. “Her fever is too high. 104.8. There’s definitely an infection or a virus of some kind.”
“Found the infection,” someone calls out. They’ve just unwrapped the towel from her hand, and my stomach climbsinto my throat as I stare down at a wound so red and angry, it looks agonizing. “This cut should have had stitches. It’s not fresh.”
“I’m going to run some blood tests, so we get the big picture,” Dr. Asgood says as she keeps poking at and examining my wife. “But this wrist is broken. I need an X-ray to determine exactly where, but it shouldn’t be this swollen. This brace has been on here for a while.”
She fell backward at the house when I was kicking her out and was cradling her hand to her chest afterward.
“Three weeks,” I say roughly. “If it’s what I think it is, it would be three weeks.”
“If that’s the case, this woman has been in a lot of pain.”
She shakes her head, and they continue to work on her. Carson and Mateo stride into the room, both looking serious as fuck as they stare at my wife.
“Take me down and kill me,” I say to them. “I deserve it.”
“I’ll kill just about anyone,” Carson says, “but not you. This isn’t your fault.”
“It’s absolutely my fault.”
Thirty-One
NATASHA
