stitches again. Christ, he’d never hear the end of it.
Now that Tag was lying down, as per the doctor’s explicit orders, Tram started talking again.
“Besides, she’s fine. She’s healing. She’s following the doctor’s orders. More than I can say for you.” He dropped into the armchair beside the bed and sprawled out, tapping his thumb impatiently against his thigh. “She’s managed not to go roaming the halls after one fucking day and yank her stitches out.” The thumb tempo increased. “Anyone tell you what a fucktard of a patient you make?”
Tag scowled, ignoring the comment. It wasn’t like he was pulling the damn stitches loose every day. It had happened twice. That’s all. Twice. He frowned as the throbbing below the bandages escalated, rather than eased.
Surreptitiously he glanced down at his chest and the thickish wedge of a bandage beneath the hospital gown. No blood yet. At least from the exit wound, which was the bigger of his two new holes. Nor did the dressing taped across the entry wound on his back feel wet and squishy. He took that as a sign that the stitches were still intact on both fronts. He’d bled like a son-of-a-bitch when he’d pulled them before.
Fuck. He hated hospitals…
He hated being locked in bed even more. He turned his head slightly to glare at the steel rails the nurses had locked into place. Like he was a fucking toddler or something.
“Do I need to call the nurse?” Tram asked. Rising to his feet, he wandered over to the railing on the bed and inspected Tag’s chest.
Probably looking for blood.
“No.” Tag scowled. The nurse on duty was far too jabby with her needles. “How did Sarah end up with a bullet hole?” he asked, his voice more grumpy than roaring now.
“Mitch.” Tram grimaced. “Shot went in and out through her side. No organ or vein involvement. She was lucky. Didn’t even know she’d been hit.”
“Adrenaline.” Some of the tension from Tram’s announcement leaked out of Tag.
He thought back over the past three days. She’d visited him every day since he’d awoken from surgery, and he couldn’t recall any signs of pain from her. She hadn’t been moving or sitting stiffly. Hadn’t appeared to favor her side. Maybe her injury wasn’t any worse than Tram had indicated.
But Jesus, the thought of a bullet piercing that soft, white skin of hers…his stomach rolled. Bile squeezed up his throat. All he’d ever wanted to do was protect her from that kind of violence. Instead he’d brought the brutality straight to her door.
“Where is she?” Tag shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position.
He glanced toward the door, expecting to see red hair and freckles. Since Tram and Sarah had booked adjoining rooms at their new hotel, they’d been arriving during visiting hours together.
Tag still wasn’t sure how he felt about those adjoining rooms. On the one hand, Tram was right there, Johnny on the spot, if any of Mitch’s gunrunning buddies came looking for Sarah. On the other hand…Tag scowled…the bastard was right there, Johnny on the fucking spot, just one thin door separating them...
Jealousy reared its ugly, acidic head, gnawing at his guts with sharp, nasty teeth.
He knew he was being ridiculous. Knew it for a fucking fact. Tram was head over heels for Emma. And Sarah loved him, not Tram. Or so she’d claimed less than five days ago.
It suddenly occurred to him that not only had Tram not answered his question, his buddy was suddenly looking exceedingly uncomfortable.
Tag snapped straight up again, eliciting another burning protest from beneath the bandages. “Where’s Sarah?”
Tram rocked back on his heels, shoving his hands into his back pockets. He hesitated for a second before shrugging. “She’s packing. She’s heading home after she visits you today.”
A big black cloud started spitting hail and wind inside of him. Tag scowled, every muscle in his body tightening. Fuck that. “Don’t take her.”
His eyebrows rising, Tram took a step closer to the bed. “She rented a car. And I’m sure as hell not holding her hostage because you’re too much of a dick to ask her to stay.”
Yeah…fuck Tram too.
He shied away from examining the rush of panic that filled him at the thought of her leaving.
Tram watched him for a second before rocking back on his heels and lifting his head to glare up at the ceiling.
“For Christ’s sake, pull your head out of your ass.” Tram's voice hardened as his chin dropped. He nailed Tag with a disgusted what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-you look. “You’ve