Page 20 of Innocent Bratva Virgin

“Help! Please! The man has a gunshot injury!”

Everything from that moment on felt like a whirling merry-go-round of frantic energy and action. Medical professionals swarmed the car, getting Vlad out and onto a stretcher in seconds. They hauled him inside, and I followed along with them for as far as I could.

I stood perched at the edge of the medical bed as they worked on him, getting his pants and clothes cut away from thewound and working to stop the bleeding. They were incredible in action, but the sights brought my mind back to the endless days I felt trapped in the hospital when I was young, watching them work on patients as I sat there confined to my bed.

“Ma’am, did you see what happened?” There was a nurse at my side, and I startled slightly, not realizing she was there.

“Umm, no. He…he, umm, came into my office like this. I wasn’t there for the injury.”

She nodded, and my attention went back to the people hooking up fluids to Vlad’s IV.

“Is he going to be okay?”

The nurse beside me reached out and laid a hand on my shoulder. “He’s in good hands, and the graze wasn’t especially deep. He’s lost a fair amount of blood, so we need to be sure to replace what he’s lost. Do you know his blood type?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m his therapist. He just started coming to me. But, umm, I’m a universal donor. He can have mine.”

“Thank you, miss.” I turned toward her to see the nurse nod. “If we need that, we’ll let you know. We do have reserves on hand.”

I nodded back, unable to think of anything else to do. “Right. Of course.”

Vlad was stabilized quickly, and after the flurry of movement that had been everywhere in the beginning, the room returned to stillness. Vlad was still unconscious, but he was resting in the bed, the monitor beeping in time with his steady heartbeat.

I sat down next to him in a chair when the doctors gave me clearance to do so, and then all there was to do was wait.

***

About an hour later, Vlad woke up, startling me out of the semi-dozing state I’d found myself in. It was hardly late by any means, but something about just watching a person lying in bed unconscious was enough to get your own body wanting to do the same thing.

“Ugh,” he groaned, and I shot up, sighing as I realized he was up.

“Hey. It’s Emory. You’re in the hospital for the gunshot wound.”

He looked over at me, his brow sinking low over his eyes as he scanned himself. A hand came up, and he patted his good hip before pulling his hand up to his face and miming a phone call.

“Oh, I don’t know where it is. You didn’t have it in your pockets.”

Standing up from the chair, I went over to the bag where the nurses had put his clothes. I held it up, showing Vlad the lumps of fabric, which would answer his question.

“They had to cut them off you. And I’m not supposed to go in here. It’s evidence.”

Vlad frowned again. Looking around the room, he pointed at a small desk-like table that was stuffed into the corner. A pad of paper and a pen were sitting by the monitor at the back, and I guessed that’s what he wanted.

“Oh, right.” I walked over and snagged the stuff, handing it to him. “Umm, you’re in a recovery room. They gave you sutures and an IV for the blood loss. Didn’t know your blood type, so…they had type O to give you, though.”

I was rambling at this point, and I knew it. But there was little else I could do, that urge to fill the silence while Vlad scribbled on the pad too strong to ignore. When he held it up, I read over the words quickly.

I’ll admit that a hospital isn’t where I want to be. But thanks. I—a section was scribbled out, and then it continued—am grateful for the help. Really. But I need to get out of here and back to my place. Am I cleared to leave?

I shrugged. “I’m not sure. They haven’t mentioned discharging you. We were waiting to see if you’d wake up. You lost a decent amount of blood, Vlad.”

He rolled his eyes before shrugging as well. I could sense his frustration, and the fact that he was so ready to just up and get out of here after I’d had to drag his ass to the hospital was enough to get me clenching my jaw so I didn’t say something I’d regret.

He’d thanked me, so that was something. But he really needed to be taking his near-death experience a bit more seriously.

I walked over to the chair I’d pulled up again, sitting down with a clear huff in my breath.

“I had to get you down to my car, you know. Thankfully, you’d worn that getup, and I remembered the cart in the supply closet, or your ass would have bled out on my carpet, which I’m pretty sure has been irreparably stained.”

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