Page 114 of Greed
All of this talk was not helping Griffin’s nerves. Lilo was late. It was almost night. He decided to try for the knife flip option and resumed pacing the room. But instead of catching the knife, he focused his power on the metal object to raise and lower it, then spin it, and honed the finer precision part of his skill to aim the knife.
When a figure burst into the room, he dropped the knife, almost stabbing his toe through the boot.
But it was Grace, still in her green scrubs. She lowered her medical bag and wildly surveyed the room until her gaze snagged on the man she needed. Evan was poking his fingers on Sloan’s reopened keyboard, much to her chagrin. Evan looked up to catch Grace rushing toward him, barely bracing in time for her leap into his arms. He caught her legs around his waist and hugged her tight. The passionate kiss they shared was enough to make everyone in the room blush.
Behind a smirk, Parker cleared his throat loudly.
“Get a room,” Sloan mumbled, trying to angle away because Evan was still next to her.
“Thanks. Don’t mind if we do.” Evan grinned back, and carried Grace toward the exit, but she wriggled out of his hold.
“Wait,” she said. “Are you hurt?”
“Nah, Doc, I’m good.”
“That’s because Griff did most of the work,” Parker stated, eyebrow raised.
Nevertheless, she checked Evan with her hands, deftly searching his body for signs of injury. She turned to Griffin and her eyes widened.
“My goodness, Griff. Your face!”
Griffin’s fingers went to his sore forehead where it came back tacky and stained with red. It was fine.
“Come here, let me check you.”
He shook his head. “It’s not bleeding anymore. I’m fine.”
“Oh, dammit. You’re all a bunch of stupid heads—standing around casually looking like you’ve gone through an apocalypse. Just let me check you.” Grace stormed to collect her medical bag and came over to him. “Over there on the stool.”
“Go on and sit. Don’t be a stupid head, Griff,” Evan joked, giving him serious eyes.
“Fine.” It would keep him occupied until Lilo got there. Griffin moved to meet Grace at the central table and perched on a stool. He supposed his forehead was a bit sore. Perhaps that had been the crunch when Doppenger pushed him along on the street.
Grace squinted and poked and prodded around his head. “I think you fractured it,” she murmured, then said over her shoulder, “Hon, can you do me a favor and wet this?”
She handed Evan some gauze.
“Call me hon again, and I’ll do anything you want.” He gave her sultry eyes.
She snorted and refocused on Griffin, checking his pulse and shining a light in his eyes, testing for concussion. A few seconds later, Evan came back with the gauze. Grace used the damp cloth to pat and wipe down Griffin’s face.
“While you’re doing that,” Parker said, coming up to stand behind Sloan. “It might be a good idea to talk about a certain someone’s tracker being disabled.”
“Wyatt?” Mary asked, tone hardening.
Parker ran his hand over his head. “He’s gone dark.”
A frustrated rumble came from the base of Evan’s throat. “I don’t like that. Not at all.”
“None of us do, Evan.” Parker shot him a derisive look. “But we’re not making any decisions without the whole family here.”
Griffin winced at Grace’s dab to his forehead.
“Sorry,” she said. “Just testing. The swelling is mostly down. With your healing, you should be fine in no time.”
“That’s what I said,” he replied. It came off rather curtly.
Evan shoved Griffin on the shoulder. “She’s just looking out for you, bro.”
