Page 67 of Past Due

Chapter Seventeen

Holding my throbbing hand high, I waited for the discharge instructions so I could leave the hospital. So far, I had managed not to cry, but my tenuous control over my emotions was slipping. Besian’s furious face wouldn’t leave my mind. His mean words played on a loop inside my head.

Confused and hurt, I tried to make sense of what had happened. I had been so relieved to see him. All I wanted was for him to hold me, kiss me, stroke my hair and tell me it was all going to be okay. I needed him to reassure me, to promise me I wasn’t going to jail for almost killing a man. I needed him to tell me he loved me and wouldn’t let anything happen to me.

But, Besian had taken one look at Andres and had assumed the very worst. I didn’t understand how he could think so low of me. Was I not allowed to have male friends now that we were getting married?

Except I’m not getting married now.

Besian’s instructions for me to pack had made that very clear. He didn’t want me anymore, and the acceptance of that fact tore my heart out of my chest.

I blinked back hot tears as a nurse returned with my paperwork. Her English was very good, and my Albanian was just terrible enough that we were able to figure it out together.

“You come back here in ten days, and we take out the stitches for you,” she said, helping me off the tall exam table and back into my painful heels.

“Okay,” I said, even though I had no intention of doing that. Over the years, I had removed plenty of stitches from Spider’s mostly healed wounds. Handling my own would be tricky, but I would figure it out.

When I stepped out of the curtained off treatment area, I found Zec waiting for me. He leaned against the wall with his hands behind his back. The terrible scar on his throat was on full display with his head tilted back like that.

“Ask,” Zec said, his raspy voice chilling me to the bone.

Nervously, I did just that. “What happened to your throat?”

He lowered his head and set nearly black eyes on me. “Razor.”

I swallowed anxiously. “Oh.”

He seemed amused by my response. “You’re definitely an outlaw’s daughter.”

I bristled. “What does that mean?”

“It means you didn’t even hesitate to stab someone to help a friend. Maybe there’s a gene for that,” he remarked, studying me with interest.

“For what?”

“Bar fights.”

Not wanting to talk about my family’s penchant for violence, I asked, “What happened to the guard?”

“He’s in surgery. They’re going to remove a small piece of his skull and drain the blood that’s pooled behind it to relieve the pressure on his brain.”

I grimaced at the description of the gruesome surgery. “Does he have family? Have they been told he’s here?”

Zec’s eyes widened slightly as if he were surprised. “His mother and wife are here.”

“Someone should sit with them. Bring them coffee and make sure they eat breakfast. Make phone calls for them and handle all the texts and messages so they can focus on him. Look after any kids or pets. Grocery shop. Things like that.”

“Sounds as if you have an entire system for these types of situations,” he remarked.

“Like you said. I’m an outlaw’s daughter. Stepdaughter,” I corrected tiredly. “I spent a lot of time following my mom around hospitals, making casseroles and delivering them with envelopes of money to MC families.”

“Seems like that was good training for the life you’ll have with Besian.” He pushed off the wall and didn’t give me a chance to disagree. “This way.”

Holding tight to my clutch and wincing with every step, I followed Zec across the emergency room to a larger treatment area where Andres dozed in a bed. I entered his room and touched hand, gently giving it a squeeze. Guilt twisted my belly as I realized how badly he had gotten hurt.

“He’s on a lot of pain meds.” Zec stood next to the IV stand and pump. He flicked the label on one of the smaller IV bags. “The really good ones.”

“Marley?” Andres asked groggily, his eyes glassy as he tried to focus on my face.

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