Page 11 of Knights Game

“She’s going to be pissed you just did that,” Roman mutters as I run my fingers over the metal clips holding my flesh together. Remembering I hit my head, I touch the top of my hairline, where lo and behold, I find more stitches. “Twelve stitches, and she’s removed some glass and metal from your stomach.”

“Andsheis?”

“Layla,” a woman answers.

Layla.

She’s standing in the entrance to the room holding two cans of Coke and a paper bag. “He said you’d do that.” She nods to the bandage laying on the bed before joining us in the small room, placing what she’s holding on the bed and washes her hands at the basin in the corner. “He said you’d be a pain in the arse and undo all my work.” She peers over her shoulder and those blue eyes meet mine.

I thought I’d been dreaming, and that voice.

I’d give anything to hear it moan my name.

Fuck, she’s beautiful.

She rinses the soap off her hands and opens the cupboard to grab another dressing. “You need to take the next few weeks easy, otherwise you’re going to reopen that wound.”

Take it easy? Not when someone has just tried to end me. I’ll be doing anything but taking it easy.

She rips the back off the dressing and approaches, placing the fresh bandage back over my stomach, her fingers running gently over the edges to secure it.

And fuck me, my skin prickles.

“What am I doing here?”

Layla looks to Roman to answer, but he keeps silent, watching her do her thing.

She sighs. “He refused to stay at the scene, refused to take you to the hospital, then shoved a gun in my face when he realised I have medical experience.” I glance at Roman who shrugs. “We escaped down a small side alley, and now here we are. Drink this.” She hands Rome a can of Coke, then holds up a box of painkillers to me. “Take every four hours for three days. These…” she waves a second box “… you take as per the instructions until the full course has finished. As there was no hospital, there’s no tetanus shot, so let’s hope these antibiotics do the trick.”

Roman reaches out to take the boxes from Layla.

“Are you a doctor?” I ask.

“No, but I’m the closest thing to a doctor your buddy here will let you see. Now bearing in mind you’ve just ripped up half of Kensington High Street, and we’ve fled a crime scene I really would love for you both to get out now.” Her hand shakes as she runs it through her dishevelled blonde hair.

“Here,” Roman says, passing her the can. “I think you need this more.”

She snorts. “This is crazy.” She takes it, opens it, and I’m enchanted by the movement of her slim throat as she takes deep gulps from the can.

“Are you okay?” I ask, and she lets out a hysterical laugh. I don’t really care, she’s helped me, and she’s right, now it’s time for us to leave. We’ve got shit to do.

“Who are you two?” She laughs again and shakes her head. “What the hell am I doing,” she mutters to herself. “I’m going to get fired, look at the state of this place.”

I glance sideways at Roman, who is no doubt thinking the same thing: that sunshine here is about to have a meltdown. “You got any diazepam?” I ask.

“You can’t have that with your antibiotics.”

“No, but I think maybe you could do with some to simmer down.”

“Simmer down,” she exclaims. “I’ve just brought two…two I don’t know what the hell you are, gangsters?” Her arms are up flailing around, and we are both still as statues. “Twogangstersinto my place of work, and if I get fired, I’m screwed, no not screwed. I’m fucked. Royally. So, no, I won’t calm down.”

I’ve barely woken up, and the firecracker launches the can of drink against the wall.

“Huh,” Roman muses, watching the brown liquid hit the cream wall. “That looks oddly familiar.”

I send him a warning look, sit up and drop my legs to the floor testing my strength.

Roman grabs my suit jacket off the chair and I gradually stand. Layla says nothing, her attention on the sticky liquid running down the wall.

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