Page 96 of The Bait

Two days later,Asher was at Harry’s bedside when he woke up again. This time from surgery to repair his shoulder. A complete tear of the acromioclavicular ligament, as well as a partial tear of the coracoclavicular ligaments. How Harry had even managed to move his arm at all without screaming was a testament to his pain tolerance.

How he’d carried Asher up those stairs was a testament to pure will and determination.

How he’d held up Radovic and gutted him and then crushed his windpipe was something else.

Unmatched rage and protective fury, Asher could guess.

Radovic had been one centimetre from killing Asher. He’d also been Asher’s childhood tormentor and abuser. One of them, anyway.

He got the end he deserved, and Asher wasn’t one bit sorry.

Asher was sitting on the edge of Harry’s bed and helped him sip some water when two men came into the room. One white guy, one Asian. Both in their twenties, wearing jeans, black jackets and caps, though their boots told Asher they were likely military.

This was a military hospital, after all.

The shorter of the two, the Asian-looking guy, grinned at Harry, seeing his shoulder strapped and his arm tucked up to his chest. “Need me to get you a sippy cup, big guy?”

What the fuck?

Asher didn’t care if that was one of the most bogan Australian accents he’d ever heard. No one spoke to Harry like that. He took the teaspoon off the tray and slid off the bed. He’d never stabbed anyone with a spoon before but he was about to.

The taller guy pulled the shorter guy behind him, put his hand up in a show of surrender, but he rolled his eyes and kind of laughed. “Jesus. Sorry.”

Hm. Both Australian.

Harry stared at them, and the taller guy put his hand to his chest and said, “Captain.” Then he pointed his thumb at the shorter guy. “Medic. Remember us?”

Harry smiled at them, so Asher relaxed, still eyeing the one called Medic.

“We look a bit different in civvies,” Captain said.

“I should have recognised the attitude from the little one,” Harry said, trying to sit up, wincing at his shoulder.

Asher went to him, fussing, not sure where to touch. “You gotta take it easy,” he whispered.

“Told ya your shoulder was fucked,” Medic said. “Next time you might listen.”

Harry took the spoon from Asher and held it like a weapon. “Come closer.”

Captain chuckled as he gave Medic a shove. “Christ, don’t upset him.”

They both stared at Harry for a long moment, probably remembering what Harry had done to Radovic. Or maybe they finally noticed every single scar on Harry’s chest andarms. A decade of war, now silver lines of survival on his skin.

“We just wanted to see how you were holding up,” Captain said, softer this time.

Asher felt oddly protective of Harry. He touched his arm, the side of his face, and he smiled at him. “He’s doing fine.”

“They’d have had better luck trying to stop a tank, huh?” Captain said.

Harry smirked, kind of. “Maybe. Not feeling real invincible right now, I gotta say.” Then he sighed. “Thank you. For everything.”

“You were almost dead,” Medic said. “In that room, when we found you. And in the chopper on the way here.” He smiled at Harry with something that may have been respect. “Pretty sure no other man would have survived.”

Harry smiled, his jaw obviously sore. He still had the molar but maybe wouldn’t have it for long. “Currently held together by surgical glue, stitches and staples. And morphine.”

“Not up for another mission?” Captain asked, grinning.

“Fuck no,” Harry said. “I’m too old for that shit. You young pups can have it. I’m done.”

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