Page 19 of Veiled Vengeance

CHAPTER 8

ZANE

The itch under my skin is unbearable. The LED lights are shining too bright, and the chatter of the nurses in the room is too loud. I want to dart out the door, run across the hall, and straight into the arms of the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. My mind won’t settle until I’m with her.

“Fuck!” Asher shouts and clenches his fists.

He’s sitting on the bed, dressed in a hospital gown and hooked up to a saline IV. The paper-thin material barely fits him as it stretches across his wide shoulders, and the hem hits him at his upper thigh. I deftly lift my phone and snap a picture for Rio and Spencer to laugh at later.

Amy shakes her head. “Oh, hush. I need to finish cleaning the wound so I can stitch you up.” She returns to cleaning Asher’s gunshot wound. The kind, older nurse’s patience knows no bounds. Asher has called her every name in the book, and every time, she ignores him and continues her work.

Elena has been in the room, enjoying the show. Even now, she stares down at Asher’s file in her hands, holding back a laugh.

We’ve already been over all of Asher’s injuries. He has a couple of broken ribs, lacerations to his face and torso, bruising over most of his body, and, lastly, the bullet in his shoulder. He insists that he’s fine, but when we first got here, the asshole doctor from earlier told us that Asher was suffering from blood loss and dehydration.

What a marvel observation.

Asher kicked him out within minutes and asked for Elena. As if she were waiting right outside the door, she walked in immediately. The asshole looked down his obnoxiously ugly nose at her, but like the champ Elena is, she ignored him and went right into doctor mode.

She removed the bullet from Asher’s shoulder quickly and efficiently. Thankfully, nothing major was hit or damaged.

Nurse Amy begins sewing the hole in Asher’s shoulder.

Asher hisses, “Holy shit.”

Amy raises a brow. “For a large man with all those tattoos, you sure are a little baby.”

“He doesn’t like stitches,” I mock-whisper to her.

“Shut up, dickwad,” Asher shoots at me with a glower.

Amy and I chuckle together, and Elena covers her mouth with her hand.

“Are you even qualified to do this?” Asher gripes.

Elena steps up for her nurse. “Of course she is, you dickwad. She’s an APRN. I know you don’t know what that means, so just trust me and stop being a whiny baby.”

“Fine,” Asher concedes.

Elena goes back into doctor mode. “I doubt you’ll stay overnight for observation, even though your doctor, that’s me, the one with the medical degree”—she points to herself—“is advising you to do so.” She turns to me. “So, Z, you get to wear the nurse hat for the night.”

“Don’t bother asking for a sponge bath. Not going to happen,” I grumble.

Asher grunts instead of responding. He grits his teeth as Amy continues her suturing.

Elena ignores my ribbing of Asher. “His ribs have hairline fractures, which is better than the alternative considering the potential for them to cave in and puncture his lungs after the beating he took.”

Asher rolls his eyes. “Those pussies could barely throw a punch. I’m surprised they broke something.”

Elena gives him a challenging look. “You’re not twenty anymore, Ash. You can break a lot easier than fifteen years ago.”

Complaining under his breath, Asher shifts back and forth on the bed.

Returning her attention to me, Elena continues. “Make sure he doesn’t overdo it. If he gets hit in the ribs again, his lungs, or another vital organ, could get punctured.”

I nod my head, knowing she won’t let us leave until I listen to her whole speech.

“Antibiotic ointment can be applied to all of his cuts, and arnica cream will help with the bruising. His stitches can’t get wet, so baths are probably best for now.”

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