Page 48 of Plum

I half-snort, half-sniffle. “No, I wouldn’t. Not on this ankle.”

That gets a ghost of a chuckle from Adam. Lightens the mood at least. I don’t think either of us are comfortable talking about this type of shit. I’m more than ready when he changes the subject.

“Listen, you need to see someone. I have a concierge doctor. I thought I had his number, but I don’t. I can get it from the office. He’ll meet us at my place. Do you think you can stand the drive back to Pyle?”

I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand. I got distracted and the tears stopped. “I ain’t going to your place.”

“Your ankle needs to be seen.”

“I ain’t driving all the way to Pyle, and I ain’t going to your place. I can go to the urgent care.”

We’re arguing about that when the beaded curtain implodes, and Cue and Forty barrel into the room. Day late and a dollar short. I guess they finally noticed the camera feed.

“Plum. What happened?” Forty looms above us, and Adam stiffens. His face goes stone cold, and the “sorry, baby” softness disappears. He’s the man from that first night again, in charge, born ready to throw down. He rises to his feet.

“She’ll be fine.”

“She don’t look fine,” Cue observes.

“She twisted her ankle. I’m taking her to be seen.”

“At the urgent care,” I add.

“He hurt you?” Forty searches my face.

“Just my feelings.” It’s a joke. But it’s not.

“I’ve got this. I’ll take care of her.” Adam’s chest to chest with Forty now, and you can see just how fit and tall Adam is for a banker or computer guy or whatever it is he does.

He towers over Cue, and I bet he benches as much as Forty, and Forty is ex-military. The glasses and the fancy suit make him look like a pussy, but he ain’t intimidated, and he ain’t backing down, even though Forty’s flexing.

“She’s property of Steel Bones,” Forty says. I warm a little, like I always do when one of the brothers says it. I earned that protection, and it’s worth a lot to a woman like me.

Adam, though. He don’t have the same reaction. His lip snarls, and his eyes flash. He does manage to keep his voice even. “She needs medical attention. I’m taking her to see a doctor.”

They size each other up, silent, each waiting for the other to blink. I glance around to see if there’s a piece of furniture I can use to haul my ass up. Fuckin’ male bullshit.

Forty sniffs. Adam’s left eye twitches. Then it’s over.

“Return her in the same condition, or we’ll fucking kill you, shove you into the trunk of that Maserati, and drive it into the Luckahannock.” Forty waits a second for emphasis, and then he tromps back out the door.

“Call me when you know what’s wrong,” Cue says to me. “I’ll clock you out.” A true helper, that one.

“Can you get her clothes? And a bag of ice?” Adam asks Cue who’s still loitering by the door.

“I’ll send one of the girls,” Cue lingers, waiting for God knows.

“She’s fine,” Adam says, real serious.

Then they exchange a look, and I can’t quite peg it, but Cue nods and finally leaves.

When we’re alone again, Adam bends over, scoops me up, and sets me on the bench. He shrugs off his jacket and wraps it around my shoulders.

A few minutes later, Danielle shows up with my duffle bag and the ice. Adam’s been spending the time gently removing my leg straps, easing down the garter belts and then working them off without jostling my foot. It’s harder than you’d think it’d be.

My ankle’s definitely sprained, at the very least. It’s already bruising, and when I go to pull my yoga pants on, I can’t put any pressure on the foot. Not that Adam lets me. He holds me up with one muscular arm around my waist.

Oh, fuck. How long am I gonna be out of work? I cannot afford this.

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