He nods, removes his fingers, and announces, “His heart rate seems normal.”
“Temperature?”the actual doctor swiftly inquires.
“Normal.”
“Breathing?”
“That’swhat I’m concerned about,” states the man I don’t know how to fucking thank for saving my fiancé’s fucking life.
Seriously.
I don’t give a shit what he wants.
Money.
Maintenance.
To name our first fucking born.
Whatever.
And I don’t give a fuck what Kid has to say in this instance since without Garcia he’d be dead.
Part ofmewould be dead.
Our son would only have one father when he should have two.
“I’m fine,” hisses the stubborn pain in the ass beside me.
“They beat you within an inch of your life, Woods.You’re not fine.”
“You’re not a doctor.”
“No, but he is, remember?”Garcia bitterly bites on a point of his finger to his phone that’s being sloppily propped up against some random car mags.
Another hiss precedes him shifting in his seat.“We don’t need to be focused on me!We need to find Bunny!We need to find out where they took her!”
“Who took her?”cautiously investigates Demián.
“One nightmare at a time,” murmurs Garcia while shaking his head.“Andthis nightmare-”
“I’m not a fucking nightmare!”
“Dealing with you right now certainly is.”
“Fuck you!”
“Fuck you, you ungrateful little shit!I just saved your fucking life!”
“I was fine!”
There’s no hesitation in me grabbing a fist full of his disheveled hair and yanking it back so that his glare meets mine.“You weren’t fuckin’ fine, Kipp.You were almost dead.” I let the last word hang undeniably in the air until the faintest line of tears begins to rim his eyes.“I need you alive.” Flashing him the engagement ring they left behind occurs next.“Our woman needs you alive.” Noticeable trembling begins in his jaw.“Our son needs you alive.” This time a single tear rolls down his grease stained face.“So, please, just put your pissiness in park and let Garcia do whatever he’s gotta do to help keep you that way.”
A long lull passes before he nods.
“Words, Kipp.”
“Yes, Sir.”