The Bodyguard and the Bodyguard by Christy Tillery French

Author:Christy Tillery French [French, Christy Tillery]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
Publisher: L&L Dreamspell
Published: 2011-06-03T00:00:00+00:00

Striker lay on the examining table, trying to keep his mind off the fierce heat in his shoulder, the strobing pain radiating down his arm. He cast his eyes around, studying the room, which seemed more sterile than a hospital emergency room or doctor’s examining room. He lay on some sort of steel or chrome table without covering which felt like a refrigerator against his back. The cold room brought on chills and he gripped the edge of the table with his good hand, forcing his body to still. Sweat broke out on his brow and he focused his eyes on the diploma on the wall, assuring himself that this guy was an actual DVM. A dog nearby gave out a loud, woeful wail and Striker thought, I know how you feel, buddy. His thoughts turned to Natasha. Had she gotten away? Please, God, let her get away. He fought the panic building inside, tried to ignore the anxiety twisting his gut. He needed to get out of here and go find her. He turned his head when the door opened.

Ned stepped through, closing the door behind. “Doc’s getting washed up. He should be here any minute now.”

“He know how to do this?”

“He should; he was a medic in Nam.”

“How’d you get him to agree?”

Ned grimaced. “He owes me. I called it in.”

Striker knew better than to ask about that. “It’s colder than hell in here. Can you find the thermostat and turn up the heat?”

Ned took off his coat and placed it over Striker. “It ain’t cold, Striker. You’re chilling. Fever must be setting in.”

“Hell, no. I don’t have a fever. I’m fine. Just cold.”

Ned frowned at him. “Could be shock.”

“I’m fine.” Striker clenched his jaw, trying to keep his teeth from chattering against one another. He watched Ned pace the room. “You think anybody saw us come in?”

Ned stopped moving and shook his head. “Nope. The clinic closes at five and it’s well past that. We’re damn lucky we caught Doc here.”

A tall, hulking man strode through the door, wiping his hands on a paper towel. He studied Striker as he threw the towel in the trash can and crossed over to him. “Let’s see what we got.” He picked up Ned’s coat and handed it to him then pulled Striker’s jacket open. He glanced up at Ned. “Help me get this coat and vest off.” Whistling beneath his breath, he unbuttoned the shirt and pushed it back. “Whoowee.”

Striker grunted.

At this point, he seemed to remember Striker was an animal of the two-legged variety. “Oh, I guess I should introduce myself first. I’m Neal Kessling.”

Score one for the doc. Striker distrusted those in the medical field who felt the need to let everyone know they were a doctor instead of a person. “Jonce Striker.”

“You a friend of Ned’s?”

“He’s my cousin.”

Kessling looked from one man to the next. “Yeah, I see a slight resemblance.” Ned grinned.

Kessling leaned over, stared at the strings trailing out of Striker’s wound. He grabbed one and gently pulled.

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