A Date with Danger by Kari Iroz

A Date with Danger by Kari Iroz

Author:Kari Iroz
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-52440-095-8
Publisher: Covenant Communications, Inc.
Published: 2016-05-20T00:00:00+00:00


16

Someone tried to kill me.

Nightmare fragments of squealing tires and blazing headlights cling to me as I swim up from unconsciousness. Again and again I see the car bearing down and feel myself flying through the air—like when I would go boating as a kid. It’s that moment when, soaring out past the wake, I was thrown from the tube—the feeling of dread before hitting the concrete slab of cold water.

Amid that lurid memory the knowledge is there, distant but growing louder by the instant.

Someone tried to kill me.

Tires squeal again, right in my ear. I jerk, coming awake with a strangled shriek.

“Hey there, easy.” There are hands on my shoulders, and a round, sweet-faced nurse holding on to me. Her hospital scrubs are decorated with kittens chasing string. This absurd detail, the first thing I notice upon waking, only furthers my disorientation, and for a moment I flail, fighting her grip.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” she insists, easing me back toward the pillows. “You’re just fine now. A little bump on the head and a broken wrist, that’s all.”

I settle back uneasily, taking in the small room walled by sliding green curtains on every side. Near the plastic bed railing, a metal tray is cluttered with bottles of prescription medication, and a machine monitors the frenzied bleeps of my heart. Above the stiff sheets I’m wearing a thin hospital gown and a pair of blue socks. My left wrist, throbbing dully, is encased in a white cast that hooks up around my thumb. An IV snakes down my arm and into the back of my right hand. The second I see it I look away, biting my lip. I really hate needles. And tubes coming out of me.

“Your friends are filling out paperwork,” the kitten-wearing nurse explains, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around my arm. “They should be in any minute now.”

“Why am I naked?” I manage, and my tongue feels fatter than usual.

The nurse chuckles and adjusts the drip on my IV. “We changed you to check for further injury. Your wrist fracture was small, so you should only have to wear the cast for a few weeks. You’ve got a few scratches and, like I said, a bit of a head bump. But the concussion was minor, and the wound on the back of your scalp was shallow. Head wounds always look scarier than they are.”

The room is moving a bit, and I feel floaty—like I’m up above my body somewhere. “Am I . . .” I have the sudden urge to giggle. “Am I on something?”

“The doctor gave you morphine for the pain in your wrist. Mr. Wade provided us with a copy of your medical background so we knew you weren’t allergic to anything.”

“Mr. Wade.” This time I’m unsuccessful at holding back a giggle. “He does not wear kittens.”

Her eyebrows lift slightly. “No, he does not. Would you like me to get him?”

“No, nooo,” I can hear myself slurring and try to enunciate, “That’s not good. I need to not be naked before he comes in.



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