Page 44 of Fearless
Two more figures stepped up and loomed over us as I pulled Gunner up to a sitting position. Blood was everywhere, dripping from his mouth and at least one cut on his cheekbone that I could see. One eye was already swelling shut. He turned his head and spit out another full mouthful of blood.
“You shouldn’t have interfered, sugar. We would’ve called it,” Reaper’s voice said from somewhere above me.
“You might have been too late,” I snapped back. “He wasn’t getting up. Big G could’ve killed him with one kick to the head.”
Jandro handed me a towel. “Why the fuck is he bleeding so much?”
“Because he’s drunk, you idiot,” I growled, using the towel to wipe at Gunner’s chest. “Alcohol makes your blood thinner.”
“All right, I didn’t know that.” I didn’t miss the hurt in his voice, but couldn’t be bothered to tend to his feelings now. Gunner needed a lot more than a first aid kit.
“Help me get him up,” I instructed my two men who just continued to stand there. “I need to take him to my office.”
They each kneeled and grabbed one of Gunner’s arms to throw over their shoulders. “Don’t let his head fall back,” I instructed when they lifted him up and started walking. “I don’t want him to choke on blood. He might’ve bitten his tongue.”
I jogged ahead to get the room ready while the guys dragged Gunner between them. By the time all three of their big, sweaty bodies filled up my tiny office, I had propped up the exam table so Gunner wouldn’t have to recline, set out my suture kit, clean towels, and antibacterial ointment, and just ripped open a fresh box of gloves.
“Put him there.” I nodded at the exam table while scrubbing my hands vigorously with hot water and soap. “Thanks. I’ll grab you two later to take him home.”
Again, Reaper and Jandro hesitated, making the already-tiny space even more crowded.
“The fights are done for tonight,” Reaper informed me. “No one else has anything they need to settle.”
“Good. It’ll be an early night for me then.” I snapped on my gloves and wet one of the towels with warm water. They still hovered as I proceeded to wipe the blood from Gunner’s chest and stomach.
“I’ll see you at home then?” Reaper asked.
“Yeah, I might just go straight to bed though.” I spared him a glance as I began to dab the towel carefully around Gunner’s neck and jaw. “I’m feeling a little crowded.”
“All right.” He sounded defeated, exhausted, rather than angry, as he turned toward the door. “Tomorrow is Python’s judgement day.”
I paused, then set the bloodied towel in the sink. “Okay. I just need some peace and quiet after I’m done tonight.”
He nodded before leaving the room, Jandro following on his heels. I turned back to Gunner with a sigh. Reaper was trying to say he needed me before a difficult day tomorrow, but I could only be stretched so thin. Gunner needed me more, and even still, I couldn’t keep giving everything to these men and have nothing left for myself. I needed one quiet night to recharge, and hopefully he understood that.
“Mareh…” Gunner sat up painstakingly, turning to me. “Need to shpit…”
“Here, love. You can spit in this.” I handed him a paper cup, my pulse skyrocketing at the pet name that slipped out. “Try not to talk. Since your blood is thin right now, it’ll take longer to clot. Just relax for me.”
He leaned back, silent except for the wheezing breaths he took. Every so often he spat a small amount of blood into the cup.
“Do you want some water?” Hell,Ineeded some. Cleaning the excess blood off his long, taut body stretched out in front of me had me hot and flustered. That was wrong of me and not fair to him. I never got turned on with a patient before. It wasn’t professional.
I turned to the sink without waiting for an answer and poured two fresh cups. The water wouldn’t get very cold, but it would have to do. When I turned back to him, he seemed more lucid than I’d seen him all that evening.
“Cheers,” he joked, tapping his water cup against mine before drinking deeply.
I chose to soothe my own parched throat rather than chastise him for talking again.
“Why did you drink so much before fighting?” I ran my fingertips lightly over the bruise forming on his stomach, trying with all my might not to be indulgent with my touch. This was about his well-being, nothing else.
“I messed up, baby girl.” His slurred speech was now due to the swelling in his mouth rather than his drunkenness. “Fuck, Iammessed up.”
“What makes you say that?” I moved my hands up to his face, dabbing around the cut on his cheekbone with an alcohol-soaked gauze pad. It would need a few stitches but not many. “I need to sew you up a little. This might hurt.”
He appeared unfazed as I got my needle and thread ready. “I’ve always been able to get what I want. Whether for me or other people. I had money growing up, but I wasn’t spoiled. I was a crafty little shit, so I was always able to get stuff one way or another.”
“And why does that make you messed up?” I carefully pulled the thread through his skin, mindful to keep the needle away from his eye.
