Page 5 of The Devil’s Lair

“You don’t remember?” Christian asks.

“Yeah, I remember everything. That’s why I’m asking. Dickhead.”

“Insults are flowing,” Dad says. “He’s fine.”

“You were shot in the chest.” Saskia’s cool fingers touch my forearm. “Gave us a bloody heart attack, you prat.”

“Shot?” I frown, and for a few seconds, the space where my memories should be is still blank. Then, like a clearing mist, it all comes rushing back. The couple in one of the private rooms at The Lair. Her horrific scars covering swathes of her back. The look of pain and terror in her eyes as he railed her across the table. The gun.

Fuck.

“What happened to the woman?”

Xan’s eyebrows flicker up. “Woman?”

“Yeah, her husband tried to kill her.” Or rather, she tried to kill him until I talked her out of it.

“All we know is you were shot,” Xan says. “We came straight to the hospital as soon as we heard. You were in surgery for three hours. We’ve been waiting all night for you to wake up. I’ve no idea about any woman.”

I attempt to rub my eyes, but my arms weigh seventeen kilos each. No exaggeration. “I’m weak as a fucking kitten.”

“You will be,” Dad says. “The surgeon said you got lucky. The bullet went right through without affecting any organs or major blood vessels. Could’ve been a lot worse.”

“How long will I be in here?”

I can’t get her face out of my mind. The tormented look in her eyes, the way her hands shook, the sound of her voice as she whispered, “He hurts me.”

“Up to a week,” Nicholas says.

“A week? Absolutely fucking not. I’ll go out of my mind.”

“Some would say you’re already there.” Christian grins.

I find the strength to flip him off.

“Do as the doctors say, and you might get out of here earlier,” Xan says.

“Yeah.” My cheeks puff up as I blow out a frustrated breath. “I need to talk to Frank. He was there. Where’s my phone?”

“Never mind that now.” Dad pats my shoulder. “Plenty of time for all that. You just work on getting better.”

My family means well, and Dad is right, but I can’t rest with all these questions rattling around my head. I need answers that I won’t get with this lot hovering.

“I’m pretty shattered.” I yawn. “Think I’m going to get some shut-eye, and you all should, too.”

“A couple of us can stay,” Saskia says.

Definitely not. They’ll stop me from doing what I need to do.

“There’s no point. I’m about to pass out. Come back later.”

Reluctantly, they all leave. As soon as the door clicks shut, I flop back against the pillows. I wasn’t feigning exhaustion, but I can’t sleep yet. Huffing and puffing, I manage to open the bedside drawer beside the hospital bed. Where the fuck is my phone? I grab the buzzer and press it. A few seconds later, a nurse appears.

“Everything all right, Mr. De Vil?”

“Do you know where my phone is?”

She shakes her head. “Sorry, I don’t. It wasn’t with you when you were brought in.”