be a gentle giant, but when it comes to someone hurting a woman, all bets are off. Case in point, I can hear him shouting without him being on speakerphone.
Since Em’s injuries aren’t life-threatening or all that serious in the grand scheme of things, it takes half an hour before we are escorted back to a bay inside the emergency room and another thirty minutes after that before we get to see a familiar plastic surgeon.
“Miss Dennings,” Dr. Nikols says with surprise as she pulls back the curtain blocking off Em’s patient area from the rest of the ED. “We meet again.”
“We do.” Unconsciously, I reach up and touch the cheek she helped repair. “Though this time I’m not the patient.”
Dr. Nikols greets Em warmly, recognizing her from when she stayed with me after surgery. She steps out to check something outside the curtain, a furrow to her brow after she does.
“What’s wrong?” Q asks, all of our emotions run raw after earlier.
“Nothing.” Dr. Nikols gives us an easy smile. “I was just looking for the rest of your entourage.” Her more than accurate description of our group gets us laughing for the first time in almost two hours.
Q and I each hold one of Em’s hands as Dr. Nikols cleans then gets to work suturing Em’s wound. When all is said and done, it takes four stitches to close up the damage we can only assume came from the sharp plastic edge of a camera lens.
We’re waiting for a nurse to bring Em’s discharge papers when loud male voices can be heard shouting seconds before the curtain rips open with enough force to dislodge two of the rings around the metal track, revealing Mase and Carter, both breathing as if they ran a marathon.
“Mase?” I ask, the rest of my question getting lost as my face is smothered into his chest in a crushing embrace.
“Why. The. Fuck didn’t you call me?” he demands.
“Why are you here?” Em’s question reminds me of our other arrival.
I snake my hands between mine and Mase’s bodies and push on his hard muscles until he gives me enough room to breathe, and you know, see the others with us.
“Casanova”—there’s no missing the smirk Carter makes when using Mase’s moniker—“got a call that you were in the hospital.”
“I’m not questioning Mason.” Em points to where my boyfriend stands still, not having fully released me from his hold. “Honestly I’m surprised it took him this long. But what are you”—she pokes a finger toward Carter—“doing here?”
All earlier panic washes away from Carter’s expression, replaced by one of frustration. Based on the way I see his hands curling into Cs, I think he wants to strangle Em. Now I’m the one pushing my face against Mase, because laughing is so not the appropriate response right now.
“Is it so wrong to want to make sure you’re okay?” Carter questions, the bone of his jaw sticking out to the side.
Em shrugs, nonchalant. “I don’t see how it’s of any consequence to you.”
“God.” Carter rips his beanie from his head and slaps it against his thigh with a growl. “You. Are. Infuriating.”
“I’m missing something, aren’t I?” Mase leans down to whisper in my ear, jolting me out of the sexual-tension-induced haze that comes along any time Em and King spend any prolonged amount of time together.
I’m about to explain this interesting dynamic when his question has one specific fact registering. “Hold on.” This time when I push for space, I don’t stop until I’m able to actually step out of his grasp. “What are you doing with King?”
It makes no sense. Carter and I may be friendly because of his friendship with JT, but we aren’t close enough for Mase to be driven to form his own friendship with him. If anything, Savvy would make the most sense if he was going to spend time with a King sibling given how much time I spend with her around Tessa.
Like a game of connect the dots, the picture forms in my mind.
Sonofabitch. This is about Liam.
Pissed off and in desperate need of finding somewhere private to rip into him for what can only be described as his Neanderthal thinking, I wrap a hand around his wrist, my fingers not able to touch, and pull us out of the cubicle.
I look left then right, searching for a secluded area. Spotting a janitor’s closet, I push him inside and let the door close us both into the small space.