Hale (The Beckett Boys, Book Seven) by Olivia Chase

Author:Olivia Chase [Chase, Olivia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Favor Ford Publishing
Published: 2017-04-17T18:30:00+00:00

When I enter Smith’s hospital room, he’s hooked up to a blood pressure machine, a thin nurse checking his stats on the display.

“Looking good,” she says, jotting down numbers on her chart. “I’ll leave you to your company. The doc will be around soon to tell you when you can go home. I have a feeling he’ll want to keep you overnight just to make sure infection doesn’t set in. But we’ll see what he says.”

Smith nods at her and then lies back on the bed. His legs are tucked under a thin blue blanket. Soft beeps fill the space between us.

I step forward and say, “How you feeling? Heard about what happened. You in a lot of pain?”

“On some pretty good meds right now.” He gives a small smile. I can see his eyes are slightly glazed.

“Pass some over if you’re feeling generous,” I say, sliding the metal chair closer to his bed. My chest feels like there’s a brick smashing out of my rib cage. Must be my heart slamming. I can’t help but ask, “What happened? I didn’t get a lot of details.” I rush to add, “I dropped by Outlaws for fliers and heard you got attacked.”

Smith moves his head until he’s eyeing me. “I was in Outlaws, finishing up after the shift was over.” He reaches up and gives his scruff a lazy scratch. “Thought I’d locked the front doors. Guess not. Three men walked in, masked, and came at me.” He gives a grim smile. “Managed to fuck ‘em up good for a while.”

I think about Butch’s swollen face. “And one of them stabbed you?”

“Yup.” He exhales slowly. “They tried to disguise themselves. I have some thoughts on who it might be, though.”

That brick in my chest grows bigger. “I hope you find those fuckers,” I say lamely.

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about the attack, would you?”

Fuck. Of course he suspects Butch. Anyone with half a brain cell would. Given all the shit talking Butch has done about our cousins, he’d be the most obvious suspect to anyone. I suppress a wave of sickness. “Not a fucking thing, man.” Lie. And I kind of hate myself for it.

All this tension is building in me. I feel like my skin is too tight. It’s hard not to squirm; even drugged-up Smith is still more observant than I’d like. He keeps staring at me. “Well, I hope you’d say something if you did know.”

“Of course I would,” I snap. I didn’t even fucking do anything, but I’m being questioned about it. This is fucked up. My anger is beginning to spike.

“Slow your roll, hothead,” he says, lifting his hand. “Look, I’m fucking tired. Not trying to fight. I just wanna get the fuck out of here and get back to work.”

“I’ll let you sleep.” I stand, my hands clenched. I mutter a goodbye over my shoulder and exit his room. Stalk down the hallway, out into the brisk air. My nerves are shot; I’m all raw energy.

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