Page 76 of Queen of Blades

Harperwasn’tsurewhatwoke her. Either the bright dome light turning on or the sounds of the beeping had jolted her awake as the door to the SUV opened. Her brain was about to explode from the migraine throbbing within her skull. Every muscle screamed in pain with even the tiniest movement. Breathing hurt. Why would someone rip her out of sleep when she felt like this?

“Hey, beautiful,” Paul cooed as he poked his head into the car. “Can you walk, or do you want me to carry you?”

What shewantedwas to go back to sleep, but he only wanted to help. She couldn’t hold that against him.

“I can manage,” she grumbled.

However, when she tried to climb out of the back seat, a squeak of pain slipped past her lips.

That was all he needed. Paul slid his hands under her, and she gritted her teeth as he gently pulled her out of the vehicle.

Burying her head in his shoulder, she bit back the urge to scream through the pain. This had to be how someone who’d been hit by a freight train felt. She wasn’t sure how much more of this agony she could handle. Someone needed to give her something. She didn’t care if it was painkillers or a bullet at this point. Just something to end her anguish.

“I’m sorry,” Paul murmured as he carried her.

Each step he took was a fresh jolt of pain, reminding her of the never-ending list of injuries she had endured. Tears dripped down her cheeks.

He brought her to a large farmhouse with a wraparound porch. A man with salt-and-pepper hair, wearing loose sweatpants and a faded New England Patriots T-shirt, held the door open for her. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught him wincing as she passed him.

Damn, she must look as bad as she felt to earn that reaction.

The kitchen table had been cleared. A pale cloth topped it, and a pillow waited for her. Gingerly, Paul laid her on her back.

“Tommy’s son is going to look you over. If anything is super serious, I’ll figure out how to get you treated.”

Harper nodded but immediately regretted it.

Stepping back slightly, Paul left her field of vision but held on to her hand.

“Hi,” a young man with short curly brown hair and large, kind brown eyes said. “I’m Elliot. For the sake of honesty, I want to let you know I’m a veterinarian—not a doctor, nurse, or even a paramedic.”

“What the hell?” she hissed. What was Paul thinking? “I’m not a fucking horse.”

Frowning with tight lips, Elliot nodded.

“We are very aware of that, but he’s the best person on hand to assess you,” Paul explained.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she processed what he didn’t say. They couldn’t take her to the hospital. Too many questions. This had to be the way if everyone wanted to stay under the radar. Which was a necessity.

She blew out a painful breath. “Fine.”

“I know it’s not ideal,” Elliot offered softly. “But I assure you, I’m very good at what I do.”

“Deworming sheep? Fantastic,” she couldn’t help but snark.

“Harper,” Paul pleaded. “Just let him look you over.”

“As long as he can give me something for pain, I don’t care what his credentials are,” she relented.

After an hour, Harper learned veterinarians had fancy portable X-ray machines. Her image showed that she indeed had three cracked ribs. Her skull was intact, no fractures there, but based on symptoms alone, Elliot believed she had a pretty severe concussion. Everything else was bumps and bruises.

“Did I miss anything?” Elliot asked.

Harper closed her eyes, and a fresh set of tears dropped down her cheeks. “On my—” Her voice cracked.

Paul stepped closer and stroked her hair. “Did he touch you?”

She attempted to snort, but it turned into a cough. She whimpered through it and draped an arm across her middle.

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