Page 44 of Coveted By Cupid

Oaks pats me on the shoulder with a placating smile. “Relax. I figured if we were packing up your woman’s things, you’d want a woman running the show. Besides, I can imagine there may be things Vanessa owns you don’t want the crew seeing.”

Ah. I hadn’t considered that. Vanessa’s undergarments and pulsing toy come to mind. “Good thinking.”

“I’m sure Vanessa will appreciate having her stuff packed nicely,” Marlene adds with a gentle smile. She motions to the guys. “If you left it up to them, they’d be dumping things in boxes at random.”

“True,” I say, returning her smile and pulling her into a hug. “Thank you for coming and managing this lot.”

She hugs me back. “No problem, Prez. Happy to help.”

I motion for them to enter, putting a finger to my lips. “Try to keep the noise level to a minimum.”

They all nod, understanding sound can hurt Vanessa’s head right now. I also want them quiet while packing. If Vanessa knew my crew was packing up her place, I’m sure she’d start a riot, and she doesn’t need the extra stress.

“Where is the shit-stain?” Ruger asks, cracking his neck to the side as if he’s preparing to dish out some punishment.

I point to the couch. “Take him to the basement at the bunkhouse—I don’t want his screams upsetting my customers.”

“Sure thing, Cupid,” Drift says, heading toward the couch. He grabs the fucker’s ankles while Ruger grabs him under his armpits. Together, they haul the man out to one of our trucks, ready to make him snitch on his partners or lose an appendage each time he refuses.

While Marlene directs Oaks and Crypt on what to pack up first and how to wrap things properly, I lead Scalpel straight to Vanessa.

“I moved her inside—not sure if moving her was okay for her, but I couldn’t leave her on the street while we waited,” I tell Scalpel, worry leeching into my voice.

“You moved her to safety—you did fine, Prez.” Scalpel’s forehead creases with concern when sits on the bed, looking at my woman’s injury. “Vanessa, my name is Scalpel. Is it okay if I examine you?”

“Yes,” she whispers, keeping her eyes closed.

He leans over her, probing around the bruise on her forehead.

Vanessa whimpers, tears leaking from between her closed eyelids.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s tender. I’ll get you fixed up and better in no time. This part might hurt a bit, but I need to check your eyes.”

“Okay.”

He pulls out a flashlight pen, prying one eye open at a time. Vanessa groans, the light hurting her sensitive eyes.

Scalpel sighs, shaking his head. “You definitely have a concussion. What’s your pain on a scale of one to ten, one being the lowest?”

“Ten when it first happened, but more like a seven now,” she says.

Scalpel nods as if he expected her answer. “Did you lose consciousness at all?”

“I don’t think so. I was dizzy after giving the second headbutt and felt like I might pass out, but I don’t believe I did.”

Scalpel snickers. “I bet. Does anything else hurt, like your neck or back? Were you injured anywhere I can’t see?”

“No, only my head.”

“The good news is your pain has lessened since the incident, meaning I’m not worried about a brain bleed. Yet, a concussion is a brain injury, and you will need to rest. No hard physical activity for at least a week until I reevaluate you. Lessen your screen time and avoid bright lights. Sleeping is fine.”

Scalpel digs around in his medical bag, fishing out a bottle of pills. “Only take acetaminophen for the pain—avoid all other anti-inflammatory medications since they can increase the risk of bleeding. I’m going to need you to take some now while you’re awake.”

I grab a glass of water, handing it to Scalpel, and he’s able to coax her to take the drugs with a few sips.

“What about the contusion on her head?” I ask, concerned.

“I’m not overly worried about it. Frontal concussions often result in increased superficial swelling. It looks nastier than it is. The swelling will go down over the next few days. The most important thing is to limit her activity.”