Page 87 of Hunted, Season Three

Right now, I need his ass where I can see him.

Where I can protect him.

Where I don’t have to wonder if this doctor or that doctor has been bought off or tampered with.

Or if this nurse or that nurse is secretly gonna pump him full of drugs to finish the job the mercs didn’t.

Rather than announce his findings on the more damaged side, Garcia merely moves to the opposite.

Cycles through the exploration.

Shuts his eyes and truly focuses on the task at hand.

When he’s finished – what feels like four heart failures later – he warmly nods his head.“All clear.”

“No sounds?”

“Everything seemed soft.Real low pitched.Oddly calming.”

“Was that…like…a…compliment?”the man I’m glad he saved confusedly questions.“Like a Pinto make compliment?”

“What the fuck does that mean?”Garcia snaps back in sync with lowering the device.

“Notable but sad,” I translate.

Demián doesn’t leave time for the conversation to veer further off course.“Likely nothing was punctured, which is good; however, I do suggest continuing to steadily monitor the situation for at least the next twelve hours, every hour, to ensure there is no progression.If he starts getting a fever, coughing, or struggles to breathe,get him to a hospital.Understood?”

“Sí.”

“As for those broken ribs?Donotwrap them.Simply pop some anti-inflammatory, get some ice on it – use a towel for a soft barrier – do some deep breathing, andrest.No strenuous activity.No heavy lifting.No running or other quick movements.They’re gonna have to heal on their own andthat’swhat’s necessary for that to happen.”

An unhappy snarl is all that leaves my pouty other half.

“Call again if you boys needanythingelse.”

Warm sentiments are exchanged prior to Garcia hitting the end button and sighing, “At least we can count no punctured lung as a win, right?”

“You being here when you were to save his life was a fucking win too, Garcia,” I express at the same time I give the back of Kid’s neck a soothing stroke to prevent his temper from flaring a second time.

“That shit was just crazy luck.”

“That shit was just the Car Gods doin’ what they do best,” offers the man enjoying my touch.“Deployin’ safety measures when we need them the most.”

Confusion twitches itself on Garcia’s face, leaving me room to interrogate, “Again, fuckin’ grateful that you’re here…that yougot here…but what the fuck brought you here in the first place?”

“Zero.”He carefully places down the makeshift tool on the table.“He was worried about his car and this weather, and I offered to bring it by the shop for you guys to look it over – thinking I had more time to get in and out before the storm hit – but clearly, I didn’t.”

“Yeah,” leaves me on an amused hum.“That’s just fucking crazy luck.”

“Car Gods, man,” insists Kid between winces.“They’re watching out for us.”

“Just not Rabbit?”makes it to the very tip of my tongue, only severed courtesy of the subtle headshake provided by Garcia who can hear the words despite them not physically escaping.

I get it.

I fucking get it.

What good does cursing the shit bringing him comfort do other than return him to his previous revved up state?

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