Page 25 of Steel Trap
Chapter Seven
“Where am I?”
“Back in my bed, where you belong.” Hatchet had never felt more certain about a statement in his life. He helped Smith sit up, propping him with several pillows.
“What happened?” Smith was all wide-eyed confusion.
“Seems you’re fine killing in cold blood, but when it comes to seeing your own red stuff you faint like a little girl.”
“I must be dreaming.”Smith squeezed his eyes shut. “It’s a nightmare. I saved your life but I could have sworn you were just insulting me.”
“Not insulting…teasing.” Hatchet handed Smith a glass of water.
“How come you’re not the one in the bed, Hatchet? How long have I been out?”
“I was in there with you until ten minutes ago. You were clinging to me like an amorous octopus.” Hatchet adjusted the loose sweats hewore, to cover his burgeoning erection. Seeing Smith, all tousled hair and pouty lips, was doing wonders for his own powers of recuperation. “It’s almost midday. You needed the sleep.”
Smith peeked beneath the covers. “Why am I naked?”
“Do you normally sleep in clothes you’ve got blood all over? Your entire outfit has been incinerated. Call it revenge—those bastards at the hospital cut off myfavorite set of leathers.”
“Who undressed me? Please tell me it wasn’t Orlando.”
“Nobody touches you but me, Montgomery. You’d do well to remember that.” Hatchet wanted to growl and pace. He needed to dial down the whole possessive thing. He and Smith were still new and he didn’t want to scare the man away.
“You gonna make me?”
“When neither of us is likely to pop a stitch, yeah.”
“I havestitches?” Smith held up his bandaged hand.
“Six. What the hell possessed you to grab the blade of a knife?”
“Well, forgive me for not being able to see in the dark,” Smith snapped. “Next time, I won’t bother to save your hairy ass.”
“I had everything under control.”
Smith sighed. “Of course, you did, big guy. Now, how about you tell me how we got here? Does anyone know who tried to kill you?And I need a phone. I have to call Trap.”
“Hell, I need to enlarge my gag collection,” Hatchet murmured. “Rogue arranged a private ambulance to bring us both back from the clinic after I called him and brought him up to speed. The guy you skewered was Camacho—your drug contact. He must have followed us from the factory site. Adrian got involved and you’re free and clear on self-defense. And Iwill find you a phone. Anything else?”
“Some pants would be nice.”
“I like you better without. In fact, Crow doesn’t allow Shelton to wear clothing in their room. I think we could adopt the same rule for you.”
“You’re not a Dom.” Smith pouted.
“Nope, but I amdominantand you love it.”
“You’re not the boss of me.”
“What are you, six? And your boss is someone we need to have a detailed discussionabout.” Hatchet moved to the door. “I’ll find you a phone. Stay put.” He was confident that Smith wouldn’t go anywhere butt naked.
Limping into the common room, he found Rogue sitting on the couch, booted feet resting on the low table that acted as group storage for DVDs, bike magazines and other assorted junk.
“Orlando will have your balls,” Hatchet observed.
“He’s in the kitchen. I’m safefor a few minutes.” Rogue grinned. “Should you be on your feet?”
