Page 68 of Killer's Obsession
I ignore him, focusing on zipping up my jeans. “I’m checking out.”
“That’s not advisable,” he sputters, looking to Chief and Morpheus for backup. “You lost a significant amount of blood. Your lung was punctured. You’re still at risk for pneumonia, infection?—”
Morpheus waves a hand toward me. “We tried to tell him, doc, but he’s a stubborn fucker.”
“I need to see my woman,” I insist. “Now.”
The doctor’s face goes red. “I cannot in good conscience discharge you, sir. The risks are?—”
“Then I’ll discharge myself,” I cut him off, stepping into my boots without bothering to lace them. “Where do I sign?”
The doctor opens his mouth, probably to list all the ways I could die walking out of here, but I’m already heading for the door. Chief and Morpheus fall in beside me with Dread taking up the back. I’m sure they want to argue all the doctors' points about me leaving this place, but I ain’t listening to shit.
“At least let me get you a wheelchair,” the doctor calls after us, his voice fading as we make our way down the corridor.
“Good thing I drove my truck,” Chief says when we reach the bank of elevators. I hadn’t thought about that. Thank fuck for small miracles. Reaching out, I tag the button for the lobby.
When the doors slide open, we step inside, and I lean against the wall of the elevator as we descend. My chest feels like it’s on fire, but no way in hell am I admitting that.
Ding.
The elevator doors open, and we stroll out. With every step I take across the parking lot, the stitches pull a little bit more.
“You okay there, brother?” Morpheus asks as we make our way across the parking lot.
“Fine,” I lie, feeling the sweat dripping down my back.
Chief’s blacked-out F250 finally comes into view. Thank the Gods. The lights flash when he presses the button on the key fob.
Very ungracefully, I haul myself up into the passenger seat.
“Clubhouse?” Chief asks, firing up the engine.
“Home,” I correct, leaning my head back against the seat. “I need to find Memphis.”
“She might not be there, man,” Morpheus says cautiously from the back seat. “You forget about the shit show between you and Pinky?”
“No.”
Truth was. I hadn’t forgotten. I remember everything. Memphis leaving and going to Jade’s. Me losing my shit on Pinky. She didn’t deserve the shit I did to her. I’ll find some way to make it right once I fix things with Memphis.
The drive to my house seems to take forever. When we finally arrive at the house, I slide out of the truck, hissing when my feet hit the ground. “Thanks for the ride.”
Chief frowns, eyeing me critically over his shoulder. “You want us to come in? Make sure you don’t face-plant on the way to the couch?”
“I’m good,” I say, waving them off.
They pull away reluctantly, and I make my way up the porch steps, each one feeling like climbing a fucking mountain. Inside, I kick off my boots at the door. Staring up the stairs, I second-guess my decision to leave the hospital. This is gonna hurt.
Resolute to make it up there, I start to climb.
Each step is agony, but I keep going. When I finally make it to the top, I’m completely out of breath. “Shit,” I pant, shuffling down the hallway. When I reach our bedroom, I freeze.
Head down as she shoves something inside a duffel bag, is Memphis. She looks beautiful with her hair pulled up in a messy knot on her head and those painted-on jeans that could make a grown man cry. She lifts her head and jolts, hand going over her heart. “Jesus,” she hisses. “You scared the bejesus out of me.” Then realization seems to hit her, and her eyebrows shoot up. “What are you doing here!? You’re not supposed to be out of bed! Are you crazy?” Shaking off the fright, she rushes over. Her hands flutter like she wants to touch me, but isn’t quite sure where the safest spot might be.
I look down at her beautiful face and frown. The side of her face is yellow and green. The bruise must be a week old. My blood boils at the sight.
She realizes what I’m looking at and lifts a hand to touch the spot self-consciously. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.” Her eyes dart to my chest, the concern she feels written all over her pretty face. “There’s no way the hospital released you. What are you doing here?” she asks again, less frantic this time.
