Page 64 of All the Missing Pieces

“All right.” Dr. Sapra turned to me. “We don’t see any signs of TBI in the tests, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one. If Ridley shows any signs of confusion, vomiting, blurred vision, or difficulty standing and walking, I want you to bring her back immediately.”

I swallowed hard.Fuck.How badly had she been hurt? I didn’t miss the way the doctor skirted that issue. But Ridley would have to share at some point.

Dr. Sapra crossed to Ridley’s bed with a syringe. “This is a painkiller. It’ll make you sleepy but should also ease the pain in your neck and throat, and along your ribs. I’ll want Colt to wake you up every three hours for the next twenty-four, just as a precaution.”

“Thanks,” Ridley whispered as the doctor slid the needle into her IV.

Ridley’s voice always pulled you in, the musical bent to it, but with groundedness you couldn’t fake. Now it was raspy, as if her vocal cords had been shredded. The difference and Dr. Sapra’s statement had me seeking out Ridley’s throat.

As my gaze settled on the usually golden skin, rage blasted through me, so intense it burned me from the inside out. There were fingerprints ringing her throat in an angry array. They hadn’t darkened to purplish blue yet, but I knew they would. Right now they were red, broken blood vessels dotting her skin.

It should’ve been the first thing I’d noticed when I walked through the door, but I’d been too damned distracted by the asshole producer. But as my gaze settled on the abused skin again, the violence of the attack became all too clear.

Someone had strangled Ridley. Maybe even tried to kill her.

As if Ridley had a radar for my emotions, her gaze cut to me. “Law Man,” she started cautiously. “You okay?”

“Who. The. Hell. Did. This. To. You?”

26

RIDLEY

I could feelthe fury coming off Colt in waves almost as if it were a living, breathing thing. After everything I’d been through tonight, it should’ve scared me. It didn’t. It was somehow comforting. Because he cared.

Colt’s chest heaved with his ragged breaths. “Who?” he demanded.

“Oh no you don’t,” Dr. Sapra said, stepping between my bed and the furious sheriff. “Any and all questions wait for tomorrow.”

“I need to?—”

Dr. Sapra cut him off instantly. “Whatever you need isn’t as important as Ridley’s well-being. Herhealing.”

That had a little of Colt’s defiance slipping away. He scrubbed a hand over his face, suddenly looking defeated. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“I didn’t see him anyway,” I mumbled. My words were slightly slurred, the pain medicine taking hold.

Dr. Sapra crossed to my bed. “I’m going to take out your IV now. We’ll get you in a wheelchair so you can get home to sleep.”

“I don’t have a home,” I murmured.

Dr. Sapra’s pitying expression swam in my vision.

Then a hand slid into mine. It was large, the skin rough. A hand that belonged to a man who had lived life and not shied away from it. “You’ve got one for now, Chaos.”

“Okay, Law Man,” I agreed, my voice taking on a dreamy quality.

And I almost believed him.

A hand ghosted over my cheek, sweeping the hair back from my face. “We’re here.”

I blinked a few times, coming to in the dark of Colt’s SUV. I struggled to remember the events that had landed me here, and it all came back in flashes. The attack. The hospital. Baker. Colt. The loopy wheelchair ride to the SUV as Tater squawked.

“Hi,” I croaked.

“Hi, Chaos,” Colt said, a small smile tugging at his lips. But it quickly fell away. “How are you feeling?”

He was close. So close that scent of bergamot and cloves swirled around me, teasing and tempting. I found myself wanting to lean in, to close that distance between us and finally know what it felt like to have his lips pressed to mine. To know what he tasted like.

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