Page 22 of Captivated with Them

Ryan lifted both eyebrows. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously.”

Gordon picked up the phone on his desk and made a call. A moment later, a knock came at the door, and two female staff members entered, one pushing a wheelchair and the other carrying clean dressing Ryan scowled at the chair as though it was the devil.

We waited while the nurse cleaned and dressed Ryan’s stump, and then turned our attention to the chair.

“Come on, Ryan,” I encouraged him. “It’s for the best.” I moved to help him from the seat to the wheelchair, but he threw me a glare filled with derision, and I halted, and clamped my mouth shut, figuring it was probably best to stay quiet. Ryan might be in a wheelchair now, but I wouldn’t put him past throwing a mean punch if he needed, and the chair meant he was at balls height.

All his upper body work meant he was strong enough to haul himself from the seat into the wheelchair, and he settled back into it, still looking royally pissed.

“I’ve got your measurements from last time,” Gordon said, addressing Ryan. “I won’t take them again, because we both know this isn’t how your stump normally looks. I’ll send the ones I have on file off to the manufacturer and let you know when they come in.”

He nodded. “Sure.”

“Thanks, Doc,” I said.

Gordon offered me a smile. “No problem.”

I stepped to the wheelchair, intending to push it, but Ryan was already wheeling himself toward the door before I even reached him.

***

CAPELLO’S MEN WEREstill waiting outside. One was leaning up against the front of their vehicle, smoking a cigarette. He noticed us approaching and threw the cigarette down and ground it beneath his dress shoe.

“You took your time.” He frowned at the wheelchair. “How the fuck are we supposed to get that in the car?”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “It folds down.”

Ryan hated me helping him, but for once, he had no choice. The SUV sat too high off the ground for him to get in by himself. He swung his arm around my neck and allowed me to help him onto the back seat of the car. I folded down the chair to put in the back then climbed in next to him.

“I guess we won’t need to worry about you two running off anywhere,” the driver joked.

“Har har,” Ryan deadpanned back at him.

I thought the driver was lucky one of us didn’t punch him in the back of the head, but then they were, I assumed, armed, and the best we’d be able to manage was hitting one of them with the prosthetic leg Ryan was no longer able to wear.

We were driven back to the apartment. At the front of our building, I unloaded the wheelchair then helped Ryan into it. Despite his disability, he was physically strong, and he needed my support more for balance than anything else.

“I assume we’ll see you two around,” I said to Capello’s men.

The bigger guy threw me a salute. “Sure will. Frankie wants to be certain neither of you is going to cause any more problems before the trial.”

I gestured to Ryan’s chair. “Well, you can relax now, ’cause clearly we’re not going to be getting up to much.”

We left them standing on the street. Ryan wheeled himself through the building to the elevator. We caught it up to our floor and continued to the apartment.

His room was already laid out to allow him to make use of it while he was in the wheelchair. The doors were a fraction wider, and his bathroom was a wet room. The rest of the apartment was open plan, and though I would need to help him into the office when it came time for us to work, he could otherwise be fairly self-sufficient. I knew he still hated it.

“How’s the pain?” I asked him.

He shrugged. “Bearable. Just about.”

I figured that was about as good as it got. “We knew this might happen when we talked about attempting the crossing,” I told him. “And it’s better that you spend a week in the wheelchair than you spend months in the hospital rehabbing from another operation.”

He sighed and dragged his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I know. I just can’t help thinking how fucking useless I am. We should be figuring out a way to free Rue and Dillon, not screwing around with my leg.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Screwing around?”

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