Page 169 of Five Fingers of Death

“His kids,” I whispered. “Kate…”

The weight of what happened felt too overwhelming to deal with. If I kept thinking about it, I’d lose my mind. So, I stuffed it all in a box in the back of my mind and refused to think about any of it. I hauled myself off the porch and swiped the tears from my eyes.

“Thank you for letting me know.”

“Izzy…” she started wanting to dig further, but I was already moving on. I had to. One foot in front of the other, or I’d lose my mind and end up back in that mental institution.

“I’ll talk to you later.”

41

KNIGHT

The last time I felt this fucking horrible was when I had a knife lodged in my chest. I tried to sit up but failed miserably. The windowless room I was in made me feel trapped and irritable as hell, but there was nothing I could do about that in my current state. I had no idea where I was or why I was here, but I wasn’t dead, which was about the only fucking positive thing I could see.

A groan slid past my lips as I shifted again, trying to sit up. The door jerked open and a man strode through, walking right over to the computer. “How are you feeling this morning, Mr. Knight?”

“Who are you?” I grunted, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Dr. Larson,” he answered without turning to face me. His fingers flew over the keys as he typed something into the computer. “What’s your pain level?”

I gritted my teeth at his demeanor. The only person I wanted by my side was Kate. She’d been there, hadn’t she? It wasn’t a dream. It couldn’t be.

“Fucking irritated,” I ground out.

He smirked at that, continuing typing before turning to me. “Alright, let’s take a look at things.”

He reached for me, but I grasped his hand, my strength much weaker than it should be. But I still stopped him from making a move toward me.

“Where the fuck is my wife?” I snapped. The energy I was exerting was taking its toll, but I refused to back down. It just wasn’t in me.

“Your wife is perfectly fine. She won’t be here for a while.”

He started to extract his hand, but I stopped him. “What the fuck does that mean?”

He quirked an eyebrow at me. Yeah, I was pissed at the situation, too. “It means that she went to considerable lengths to not only keep you alive, but make sure that no one else knew you were. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to check on your wounds so that she doesn’t let that psycho outside tear me to pieces with his knives.”

My hold immediately loosened as I laid back in bed. “Fuck, don’t let him in here,” I groaned.

“I’m afraid I have no control over him, especially not while he’s playing musicals,” he muttered.

I flinched as he peeled back the wound dressing and examined what I could only assume was a stitched-up hole in my chest.

“It’s healing nicely. Considering the journey you made, I wasn’t sure what we’d be dealing with this morning.”

“Get me the fuck out of here,” I growled.

A slight chuckle left his lips as he replaced the dressing. “I would love to give you whatever you want, but as I said, there’s a psycho on the other side of the door. And I happen to like my head. Besides, if I were to move you right now, you’d be in a lot of pain. Your wife is currently getting all the medical supplies needed, and until she comes back with another dose of medication, you’re going to start feeling every slice in your skin.”

I grunted and rested back in the bed, satisfied that she was at least coming back. “How did she convince you to come here?”

“Money,” he answered, snapping off his gloves. “Lots and lots of money.”

“Where are we?”

“A safe house. She assured me that we’d be safe here. I’ll be back to check on you in a little bit. In the meantime, your friend has a movie for you to watch.” He shook his head with laughter. “Sounds thrilling.”

As he turned to leave, I almost shouted at him to make Fox stay out there, but the bastard walked through the door before I could say anything.

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