The Finished Masterpiece Boxed Set - Pepper Winters Page 0,189

felt like to finally be held accountable for your crimes.

His chin arched, delivering the rest of my fate. “While in the care of Birmingham Medical, you are not to leave this room under any circumstance. You are allowed an attorney and have the right to remain silent—”

“Can’t that spiel wait?” The female doctor scowled. “He’s just woken up from surgery. He won’t be walking anywhere.”

I swallowed again against the wildfire in my throat. I didn’t care about me. I was irrelevant. “My daughter. Where’s Olive?”

The doctor patted my hand, careful not to bump the IV line disappearing into my vein. “Your daughter is fine. She was kept overnight for observation. You can see her later.”

“No visitors.” The cop frowned.

“He can see his daughter, for crying out loud. She’s screaming blue murder to make sure he’s okay. If you won’t let him see her for his sake, then do it for the child’s. She’s been through enough.”

I didn’t know who this woman was, but I liked her immensely.

A flood of gratefulness and fresh agony gushed through me. “Is...is Olin Moss okay?”

The woman nodded. “Fine. Both are fine.”

I had so many questions, but they scattered the moment I tried to move and my side felt like hungry wolves shredding my innards. “Holy—”

“Ah, yes. Don’t move if you don’t have to.” She lowered her voice, shooting a look at the lurking cop before focusing on me. “You sustained a gunshot wound to the back. The bullet didn’t cause excessive damage, going in clean and causing a large but manageable puncture wound upon exit. The good news is, it didn’t hit anything vital. Far enough away from your organs to go clean through you.”

I blinked. “I bled a lot.”

“You did. You needed a transfusion.” Turning to the cop, she snipped. “Can my patient have some privacy please?”

His eyes narrowed. “He’s under arrest. He doesn’t get privacy.”

“What happened to innocent until proven guilty?”

“He’s guilty of murder.”

I flinched.

Before, I’d been willing to pay the price, but now sick worry filled me.

Will they take Olive away?

How could I be such a fucking idiot not to think of that?

Fear landed like a landslide on my chest.

I’d only just gotten her back.

I wouldn’t survive losing her again.

Losing Olin again.

You lost O a long time ago.

The doctor’s tone softened as she did her best to ignore the unwanted visitor in the room. “Do you remember arriving in the emergency room? We did a CT scan before surgery to ensure there were no internal injuries.”

I frowned. “I don’t remember.”

“That’s okay.” She smiled. “The complicated jargon can wait. For now, the abbreviated version is, you’ll live. You’ve been stitched up and responded well to treatment. You’ll be in a fair amount of pain for a few days, but then it will ease, and healing will accelerate.”

Days?

I didn’t want to be in here for days.

I wanted to be with Olive.

I needed to talk to O.

You leave this bed, and you’re in prison.

Either way, I would be kept away from the people I needed the most.

Shit.

A lash of agony ripped up my back. I sucked in a breath, shifting on the bed.

“We’ll leave you to rest.” The doctor patted my hand again. “Sleep. Heal. I’ll answer any questions you may have when you’re a little more comfortable.”

I resisted the urge to capture her wrist, asking, “Can I see my daughter?” I needed to see her with my own eyes. To touch her. Kiss her. To never let her go again.

“Soon.” She backed away from the bed, eyeballing the cop to leave too. “Rest first. I’ll bring her to you in a bit.”

I wanted to argue, but sudden tiredness hung off my eyelashes, dragging them down. I felt cold and strange—as if the foreign blood in my veins poisoned me from the inside out.

I couldn’t fight the sinking.

I lost the fight.

I slept.

* * * * *

“No! I want to see him. I need to make sure he’s okay. Daddy! Dad! Popeye!”

My eyes wrenched open, my heart galloping at the sound of Olive’s shout. Jack-knifing upright, I forgot too late about my stitched together side.

I groaned in pain as I lay back down, a prickle of sweat breaking out all over me.

The heart-rate monitor went berserk, and the sounds of angry officers threaded with the melodic calm of O’s gentle tone. I couldn’t hear what she said, but after a minute of whispered argument, the door cracked open and Olive bowled inside.

“Dad!”

I braced myself for her hug. Ready to hide my agony from her at all