Page 198 of Chandelier Sin
“They have Dean,” I said. “I didn’t have time to get the license plate number.”
Cole’s expression was fraught, but he wasn’t staring at me, his focus was on the harbor—onThe Hades.
Together we watched the yacht back out of its slip. In minutes, it would be at sea.
With my mouth dry, hurting all over, I tried to speak but no words escaped.
“I have to call Shay,” said Cameron. “Then we’re going to Cedars.”
“No,” I blurted out. “I work there.”
“We have time to make something up about your injury.”
Running various scenarios through my chaotic mind, I knew no medical team would be convinced that this, my obvious presentation of injuries, would be from anything other than a violent attack.
“Are your hands okay?” he asked, a sudden panic in his tone.
Because we both knew a skilled surgeon’s prowess lay in the mastery of wielding a scalpel with precision.
And right now, my hands were numb.
You get used to the uncertainty.
It was a revelation I never thought I’d come to terms with. Usually, I was the methodical one, the man who planned everything out, but now, every single aspect of my life felt like I was walking on glass.
This, and a whole load of other thoughts, ran through my mind as I sat in the corner of Cedars pharmacy.
“Fucking Lance,” I seethed, holding my side, as though pressure would lessen the pain.
Cameron was holding a prescription bag. “Press charges.”
“He’ll tie me up in legal shit,” I reasoned.
“I’ll pay.”
Wincing, I sat up straight. “Let’s put our minds together and think of something else.”
“At least think about your legal options.”
“Don’t tell Greyson,” I said, moving the ice pack around my jaw. “He’ll spiral.”
“Anything to do with violence freaks him out,” agreed Cameron.
He set the bag of medication down and took hold of my hands, moving them gently and examining the fingers, proving to me as well as to him they were uninjured.
“This is not your specialty,” I jibed.
“I know.”
“But they seem good.” I breathed out a sigh of relief.
Cameron handed me two tablets—Percocet would hit the spot. He’d prescribed the narcotic, and I willingly swallowed them down with the water he’d bought.
“I gave an anonymous tip to the police,” he said. “They’ll stop Lance’s car. Get to Dean before he’s roughed up, too.”
I was haunted by the memory of Dean’s expression as they’d shoved him into the back of that car. “I tried to warn him.”
“I can see that.” His gaze looked me up and down with sympathy.
