Page 24 of Ronen
“Let the man go get a warrant,”William put his two cents in.“Waste of time but never give them any info and always make them get a warrant.”
“Ronen Sawyer Sinclair, stop stalling and show the man what he wants to see. Then get on the phone and get someone to cover for you, so you can go hold your fated mate’s hand. Or wipe his brow, or whatever. Just go,”Gigi ordered.
Good grief, I was getting full named by a ghost. Even if the woman had pretty much been like a great grandmother to me my entire life, it was still unnerving.
“As a heart attack,” Hank grinned. “People do all kinds of things you wouldn’t expect them to be capable of. Look, Ronen, I believe you didn’t push him, because I’ve got two witnesses that back up your story.”
“It’s not a story,” jaw clenched, I ground the words out slowly.
“It’s a story until I see proof that backs up the witness statements,” Hank informed me. “But Mason is pretty adamant that someone pushed him. That person, if they exist, will be on the footage. There could have been someone out here that no one saw. Or Mason could have just tripped and he thought someone pushed him. Now, are you going to voluntarily show me the footage or do I need to come back with a warrant?”
Grumbling, I told him, “I should make you come back with a warrant, but follow me. It’s in my office.”
“Appreciate the cooperation,” Hank followed me up the steps. “This shouldn’t take too long, and then you can go to the hospital to be with your mate. Wait until I get back to the department and tell them Mason and you are mates. Crazy world we live in. Fate sure does have a sense of humor.”
Shooting him a sour look, to which he just gave me another shit-eating grin, I stomped up the stone steps. The sooner I showed him I wasn’t responsible for Mason’s accident, the sooner I could tell off some ghosts, and then sit down and deal with my feelings about my mate.
My mate.
My fated mate.
Mason Caldwell was my fated mate.
Nope, wasn’t gonna happen.
I would not have it.
I absolutely refused to even entertain the thought that Mason could possibly be my mate.
Ick.
You’re so full of it your eyes should be brown,my badger chided me.You know that man is smoking hot, and he ticks every single one of your boxes. Bet he’s fire in bed too. Maybe take him for a test drive, see if you want to buy him. Try out his stick shift.
That wasn’t a bad idea. Maybe I should take my parents’ advice, and try Mason out, just to prove that we weren’t compatible, and then we could both just move on with our lives.
One and done.
I’d just tell him how it was going to be.
We’d do a hit it and quit it and then go back to hating one another. No harm, no foul, a perfect plan.
Maybe he’d even stop losing my books.
Let me know how that works out for us, my badger laughed, a full on belly laugh, that I ignored.
Chapter Eight
Mason
Blinking my eyes open, I groaned when I tried to move, the too small hospital gurney creaking beneath my bulk. The lights were still too bright in the E.R. cubicle, and I wondered what time it was and how long I had been here.
My head felt clearer than it had the last time I was awake, thankfully. The ambulance ride was a vague memory I mostly couldn’t recall. Hazy memories of being stripped, poked, prodded, and x-rayed started coming back to me, as I tried to find the remote for the bed so I could at least sit up.
It was that damn painkiller they had given me. My body was shit at metabolizing any kind of pain drug. Even ibuprofen sometimes made me loopy.
A hand grasped mine, startling me, and I met ice blue eyes. Jamie Sinclair located the remote and the whirling sound of the bed moving filled the air.
“Good?” he questioned, when I had settled myself more comfortably.
