Page 22 of On the Chase
A cold nose touched the side of his neck, and he turned toward his K9 partner, sliding shaking hands into her ruff.
“You okay, sweetie?” he crooned, his voice rough with smoke inhalation and emotion. Sliding his hands over her, he checked for any injuries, but she didn’t seem to flinch from his touch. Instead, Lexi leaned into him, her weight throwing him off-balance. Unable to catch himself in time, he toppled onto his back.
The stars, hazy from smoke, seemed to squiggle in random patterns that made his head start to throb. He was suddenly so cold. Hugh felt a shaking Lexi pressed against his side, and he welcomed her warmth.
Suddenly, Otto’s face was there, blocking the stars. His mouth was moving, but Hugh couldn’t make sense of any of his words. Otto looked scared, though, more scared than Hugh’d ever seen him look before. Vaguely, he knew that he needed to tell Otto what was happening. Whatwashappening?Oh right. Now he remembered.
“Some asshole blew up my truck,” Hugh slurred, and then there was blackness.
* * *
“Seriously?” Now that the light wasn’t stabbing knives into his eyeballs anymore, Hugh allowed them to open wider. “Didn’t I just get out of this place?”
“Yes.” Theo looked pissed—more pissed than Hugh had ever seen him, and that was saying something. His partner was an angry guy. “You did.”
Hugh shifted, wanting to sit up, but simultaneous jolts of pain from his leg and his head made him suck in a harsh breath and freeze. If moving hurt that much, then he would just stay very still.
A silent Otto stepped forward and pushed a button so the bed rose, tilting Hugh into a more upright position. Hugh thanked him, hating the rough sound of his voice. Without responding, Otto offered him a cup with a straw, and Hugh took a drink.
Shifting back, hiding a wince at the throbbing in his skull, the earlier events shuffled into place, and he sat bolt upright again. This time, he ignored the pain. “Lexi!”
“She’ll be fine,” Otto said, gently pressing him back with a hand to Hugh’s shoulder. “Dr. Hellman has her.”
Ignoring his partner’s attempts to calm him, Hugh barked, “If she’s fine, why’s she at the vet?”
“For observation.” Theo’s voice was almost a snap. His bedside manner was a little rougher than Otto’s. “She’s got some bruising and is nicked up, but only one cut was big enough for staples.” When Hugh started surging against Otto’s hand again, Theo clarified. “Three. Just three staples. So quit Hulk-ing out.”
Hugh gave him a hard stare, trying to determine whether Theo was softening the truth, but Theo just met him glare for glare. Subsiding against the bed, Hugh asked, “What the hell happened?”
“Someone put a bomb on your truck, blowing it—and almost you and Lexi—into fucking tiny pieces.” That was Theo, as blunt as possible. It was a relief, though, not to have to pry the details out of someone who thought Hugh was too weak or injured to handle them.
Then the meaning of Theo’s words actually hit Hugh. The explosion had been intentional. Someone had tried to kill him.
“Shit.”
Otto snorted. Apparently, he trusted that Hugh wasn’t going to try to run to Dr. Hellman’s to check on Lexi, because he dropped his hand and pulled a chair up to the bed, settling his bulk into it. There was a second chair, but both he and Hugh knew that Theo would never sit. In fact, just standing still was an achievement. Watching Theo practically vibrate with tension, Hugh figured his partner would start pacing at any second.Three…two…one…
Pivoting, Theo took three choppy strides toward the door before turning around and stomping back to the bed. Hugh had to hold back a smile before reality hit again, wiping his expression free of humor. He wondered if his inability to think in a straight line was a symptom of his concussion. He wondered if evenwonderingabout that when his truck had just exploded proved the theory. When he shifted, an unexpected bolt of agony shot from his thigh, and he couldn’t hold back a grunt of pain.
Otto leaned forward again so he could point. “Push this button for pain meds.”
“Forget it.” Hugh didn’t even look where Otto was indicating. “I’ll be fine. Pain meds make me puke.”
“Just push it.”
“No.”
“Then I will.”
“Don’t—” He reached to knock Otto’s hand away, but it was too late. Hugh glared at Otto’s defiantly smug expression and fought back the urge to yell at him. The big lug was concerned about him, and Hugh would probably—okay,definitely—do the same in Otto’s place. Hugh gave his partner a final scowl and then refocused on the explosion that had put him in here.
“Who?” he asked, knowing that he’d skipped a few questions in between, but Otto and Theo would follow his train of thought. His parked truck wouldn’t have exploded on its own. Someone had to have helped it along.
“Who has a grudge against the MPD and plays with bombs?” Theo asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm. Hugh didn’t take it personally. Anger was pretty much Theo’s default emotion when he felt scared or sad or helpless. Hugh’s multiple trips to the hospital had to be messing with both Theo’s and Otto’s heads.
Once again, he forced himself to focus his straying thoughts. After all, it was important to figure out who had tried to blow him—and Lexi—into pieces. “Gordon Schwartz? You think he’s still around after skipping bail?”
“Probably holed up in his militia compound,” Otto said, stretching his feet in front of him. Although he looked relaxed, Hugh knew he was just as frantic about what had happened as Theo. The two men just displayed it differently.
