Savage Vandal (82 Street Vandals #1) - Heather Long Page 0,30

little, but that would require pulling my leg up onto the bed. Not missing a beat, the doc snagged part of the blanket and dragged it over my lap.

“Would it kill you boys to get her some different clothes?” he asked without looking over his shoulder. He had a small penlight in his hand.

“We have her clothes,” Kestrel answered, then folded his arms.

They had my clothes? Really?

The light in my eyes hurt, and I winced.

“Yeah, you’re still a little photosensitive. But that’s to be expected. You had a hell of a concussion.”

I swallowed.

“He said I’d been out for three days.”

“In and out,” Doc agreed, all confident business. I focused on his face. It was a kind one, if a little stern. The stubble on his face was thick enough to offer the promise of a beard, and it was reddish-brown like his hair. His eyes were a light brown, and they focused on me. I swore he seemed to catalog every reaction, so I tried to keep my expression calm. “I’m going to touch your arm…”

And he went from there. Every action, he announced, and bit by bit, I found myself relaxing. Well, not relaxing so much as focused on what he did. Follow the motion of his finger. Raise my arms. Not flex my wrist. Though he did test the sensation in my fingers. Next came reflexes. Then my ankle.

He unwrapped it and checked it side by side with the other. Nothing he did, however, came as a surprise.

“All right,” he said as he rewrapped it with careful sure fingers. “That wrist may yet need a real cast. It’s in rough shape, and you’ve still got swelling in this ankle, even after three days of essentially being off it. The concussion is looking better. You’ve got good tracking with your eyes, but they’re still light sensitive and…” He placed two very gentle fingers against my jaw and tilted my head a little. The hands were calloused but careful. Everything he did was perfunctory and professional, and at the same time…almost friendly. “Still dilated. I want you to keep taking it easy. I’m concerned about you being dehydrated. I didn’t want to keep you on an IV without a catheter…”

I made a face, and he chuckled.

“Not my favorite thing either. Trust me, I’ve been there.”

Oddly, that didn’t seem as difficult, even if I couldn’t trust him. I couldn’t trust any of them. “I believe you.” Damn, my voice still sounded rough. “I’d rather skip that.”

“Agreed. So Rome told me you got up and used the bathroom. Vaughn helped you in there last night.”

“Rome was kind of an ass.”

Kestrel scowled, but Doc only chuckled. “He can be.”

I didn’t remember… “Vaughn was the one who gave me the shirt.” I plucked at the one I was wearing.

“He did.”

He’d been really nice to me. I had some vague memories of him talking. “He has a pretty voice.”

For some reason, Kestrel looked even more pissed. Someone with a stick that far up their ass shouldn’t be as handsome as he was, nor as attractive. Fuck, I’d flirted with him, and now…

“Well, I wouldn’t know about that.” Doc’s gentle retort pulled my attention back to him. “But I’ll take your word for it. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m trapped.”

“Understandable, but I meant physically.” So. No help there.

Good to know.

“It doesn’t matter,” I told him, and his eyebrows rose. More, his gaze hardened as he fixed me with a look.

“If it didn’t matter, sweetheart, I wouldn’t ask. This is how this works, I’m Doc, you’re the patient. I ask questions, and you answer them. That way, I can compare your assessment with my observations, and we can make sure we’re not missing something.”

“I mean it doesn’t matter because I’m still a prisoner.”

An impatient sigh escaped Kestrel. “You’re not a prisoner, Emersyn.”

“And you’re not allowed to call me that, bird boy.” Aggravation swarmed through me, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him. Instead, I focused on Doc. “As for you, Doc, you’re clearly on their side. So I’d rather keep my information to myself.”

Rubbing a hand over his face, Doc shook his head. “Kestrel, get out.”

“No.”

On his feet, Doc pivoted to face the other man. I stole a look at Kestrel’s expression. If anything, it had grown darker, and a storm brewed in his blue-green eyes. Even from here in the crappy lighting, I could make that out.

“Not asking. Telling,” Doc said, and his voice became as inflexible as Kestrel seemed. “She’s the