Page 72 of Reacher
They nodded, and Torch pointed to the seat between the two of them.
“Sit here, love. Nobody will touch you.”
“That means you, as well.” Reacher pointed at Torch, then Micro.
“You only touch her if it’s to save her life. Got it?”
They both looked bemused. “Geez, Pres. I’m flattered by the way you see us, I mean, we’re not predators or horny teenagers. I think you can chill out.” Torch was grinning, but sobered up. “Just tell Ice we’re all here for him, yeah?”
Reacher
Leavingherwiththemdidn’t sit well with me, even though I knew I could trust them to behave. I hoped that she’d still be there when I returned. The trouble with her was her conscience. It kept making her believe that she was wrong for me, or bad for me, or the club. If she left me though, I’d hunt her to the end of the fucking earth, to drag her back to my fucking bed.
“Mr Anderson?”
“Reacher, please.”
The doctor introduced himself as Dr Patel, and I think he was the guy who’d phoned me that day, but I didn’t bother to ask.
“Mr Silver is coming around. I should warn you, however, he’s not going to be very chatty for a while though. He’s been under heavy sedation for several days, and he did almost die. The blood loss was severe, and although we’re confident he should be intact, you can expect some memory loss, and confusion about the events that put him in here.”
Shit. I nodded, seeing Stitch doing the same, from the corner of my eye.
“We can talk to him though?”
The doctor nodded. “I’d like to ask to you to please only spend a few minutes with him, at least if you’re expecting him to talk or stay conscious. He’ll be in and out of it for a while, and he needs to rest.”
“What about his detox?” Stitch prompted, folding his arms, like they might protect him from the doctor’s response.
“Well, we saw some visible signs during his time under sedation; shivers, sweating, and I imagine there was some vivid dreaming going on, all part of the body trying to cope with the loss of whatever it is he’s normally taking.”
Jesus. “So he was trapped in nightmares, and unable to awake, because of this shit you were pumping him with?”
Stitch shot me a glare, and I got the point loud and clear. Don’t take out my anger on the doctor. I held up a hand.
“Sorry. I’m just… it’s been a long few days worrying about him. I know you’ve all been doing a great job of keeping him as well as you can.”
The doctor nodded again. “I’ll check back in a little while, to see how he’s doing. Now that he’s going to be awake, and the detox is past the worst, I can’t see any reason he’ll have to stay in much longer. As long as he continues to heal well.”
That was music to my fucking ears.
“We can go in now?”
He stepped aside, and let us enter Ice’s room. The steady beep of his heart rate was a welcome sound. More so though, was the sight of his eyes, open, and staring at the ceiling.
A nurse was still fussing over him.
“Just a few minutes, gents.”
She backed out of the room, and we stepped up on either side of our fallen brother.
His eyes went from the ceiling to mine, then he blinked a few times, looking the other way, seeing Stitch standing there.
He blinked a few more times, like his eyes were dry or sore.
“Hey, brother.”
He swallowed. “Hi,” his voice was almost just a breath. It sounded like he had a sore throat, but then, he’d had tubes down there for long enough that it’d probably hurt for a while.
