The Few, The Proud, The Deadly (The Warrior 2 Book 4) by Martha Carr & Michael Anderle

Author:Martha Carr & Michael Anderle [Carr, Martha & Anderle, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9798888783610
Publisher: LMBPN Publishing
Published: 2023-11-19T16:00:00+00:00

A little over twenty minutes later, Emily stopped in the hotel hallway on the Suns’ floor, her arms piled high with plastic bags of takeout boxes. Robbins knocked on the door to the room that belonged only to Sergeant Boyd and Nelson now that they’d booked two others in the same hallway.

It took forever for someone to answer, then Stryker’s expressionless face finally appeared in the open doorway. He jerked his chin up at Robbins, noticed the blood soaking the left sleeve and top left half of her T-shirt, and widened his eyes. “The fuck?”

“Whatever.” Robbins shoved the door wider so she could brush past him into the room. Stryker turned away to stare after her, and Emily was left to battle the door swinging shut on her with an armful of takeout boxes for dinner chow and no one bothering to help her inside.

“Shit. Grab the—” She caught the door with the edge of her boot, then wriggled it farther inside before pushing the door open with her hip and spinning through the frame before the heavy door could push her back out again. “Yeah, no problem. Totally. I got it.”

The door slammed shut behind her, and she realized that no one was paying attention to her.

The guys were all staring at Robbins.

Boyd was sprawled out on his bed, his boots crossed on top of the comforter and his arms folded behind his head atop the pillows. He pushed himself upright when he noticed the blood on Robbins’ shirt, but he didn’t seem concerned. “The fuck happened to you?”

“Some asshole clipped me on a motorcycle,” Robbins muttered as she headed for Nelson. “Didn’t see me coming out of the shadows.”

“Imagine that,” Emily added as she turned toward the table against the wall. It was almost too small to hold all the food she’d brought back. Everything went down on the table except for one bag, which she dropped casually onto the floor and pushed under the table with the toe of her boot for later.

“A motorcycle?” Nelson had already retrieved his med pack to treat Robbins’ wound, but he didn’t look all that convinced by the short story of her explanation unbacked by any detail.

He was smart enough not to offer any help as Robbins achingly slipped her left arm out of the sleeve of her oversized T-shirt and scrunched the whole thing against her neck so the medic would have a decent view of her shoulder. Then she thumped into the lumpy armchair beside the window and tilted her head to the opposite side, staring at the floor.

Nelson examined the wound, pulled some bandages from his pack, and squinted at her. “Did the guy have a fucking spear tied to the handlebars too?”

“I don’t know, Nelson. Maybe,” she growled without looking at him. “Does it make a difference to you doing your job, or what?”

He got the message loud and clear and worked on cleaning out her wound before applying his searing magic to her shoulder with both hands and pressing down as hard as necessary.

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