Loverboy (The Company #2) - Sarina Bowen Page 0,106
give you a tourniquet.”
“A tourniquet …” He pauses. “… Upper leg?”
“Yeah,” Duff says, his voice husky. “You had a major surgery, and it’s gonna add a few seconds to your hundred-meter dash, let me tell you.”
He swallows hard. “It’s still there, though? The leg?”
“Still there,” he says cheerfully. “Although it was touch and go for a while. And Max almost got thrown out of the hospital at one point.”
“Why?”
“For yellin’ at doctors.”
“It was that ugly, huh?”
“Yup!” Duff says. “Your GSW only shredded soft tissue, which was lucky. But it nicked a major artery. So you could have easily bled to death. You remember asking me a few weeks ago to take you for a spin on the racetrack?”
“Uh huh.”
“Well, I took you for a real spin through Manhattan. Too bad you don’t remember it. I hit eighty miles an hour on Third Avenue.”
“Jesus. Did the pedestrians on Third Avenue survive it?”
“Sure! Like steerin’ around cones on the raceway! And it worked, didn’t it? You’re still here.”
“Thanks man.” He yawns. “How long have I been here?”
“Two and a half days.”
“Did anyone else get hurt?”
“The other guy down in that basement didn’t make it out. And there was blood in the vestibule. Did you hit someone, or was it yours?”
“I shot at someone’s foot while I was trying to evade them.”
“You must have hit him. One guy escaped, two were arrested. They shot at Phelps—he was wearing a vest.”
Gunnar takes that in. “So the only one who died was the one that was actually supposed to kill me?”
“Yeah man.”
“Okay. Now tell me about Posy. They got my laptop from her. Is she—” He hesitates. “Tell me the truth. Is she okay?”
“You can ask her yourself.” Duff gets out of the chair. “I’ll be out front.”
I enter the room at last, my tears mostly dry. There are so many things I want to say to Gunnar, but right this second, I don’t know where to start. I set the bakery bag down and then pick up his bandaged hand. “Hi.” It comes out rough.
“Hi,” He says, closing his fingers around mine. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say, but my throat is closing up, so I’m not very convincing. “I’ve been so worried about you.”
“Hey,” he says, giving my hand a squeeze. “I’m still here. I don’t know about my vision. And it’s possible that my ass doesn’t look quite as flawless as you’re used to.”
“Gunnar,” I squeak. “You’re still perfect.”
“I’m sorry, honey,” he says. “I’m not even close. And I never should have left you alone that night.”
“We’re fine. I’m fine. I just need you to get better.”
“They got my laptop,” he says. “That means they were in your apartment.”
“Only for a few minutes,” I say, downplaying my terror. “And I have to thank you for teaching me how to get out of zip ties. Never knew that would be so useful.”
Gunnar makes a noise of dismay, and the machine that’s monitoring his pulse starts beeping faster.
“Hey—I’m sorry. That was supposed to make you laugh. I hit the panic button. One of your guys was upstairs within minutes.”
He grips my hand more tightly. “Holy—”
“Hello, Mr. Scott!” booms a new voice coming through the door. “I’m Doctor Warren, and I’m here to check on those eyes. You had some chemical irritation.”
Gunnar blows out a breath. “Chemical irritation is too polite a term for whatever gas was in that basement with me.” He shivers. “How bad is it?”
“Well, let’s take a look. We bandaged your eyes to keep them lubricated. Excuse me, please.” The doctor addresses me. “Would you like to step outside?”
“She stays,” Gunnar says in a firm voice.
“There’s a homemade donut in it for you,” I say, trying not to seem like a pest. But I’m not leaving this room until they drag me out. Instead, I skirt around the bed, trying to get out of the way. From the other side, I lay my hand on Gunnar’s strong wrist.
Then I say a silent prayer. Please don’t be blind. It won’t make me love him any less. But I want Gunnar to have his sight.
It seems to take forever for the doctor to unwind the bandage around Gunnar’s head. And I hold my breath as he pulls the gauze away from his eyelids. “Hold on a moment. There’s some mucus I can blot away.” He dips a cotton ball into something and dabs at Gunnar’s eyelids.
I run out of air, and take a gulping breath, and Gunnar squeezes my hand.