Page 95 of Heartfelt Pain
Trevino snorts.
“Mind your own business,” I huffback.
Roma: Hellcat, you’re fucking dreaming if you think I’m letting another man make you mac and cheese.
That’s a bit territorial.
The phone lights up with a call. Abe.
“Hello.” I clear my throat. My sinuses are just as much of a wreck as my wrist.
“You cancelled all your meetings for today?” The kitchen is already up and running. Voices mix in the background and the sounds of chopping and music play.
“Yeah.” I’m not sure who Trevino notified or what he said. “I hurt my wrist.”
Abe pauses. “Is it bad?”
“I’m at the hospital.”
There’s a burst of Japanese. I recognize Abe’s dad. They’re arguing, but this time I get the distinct feeling that it’s over me.
“Okay, where are you at?” Abe asks a second later.
“No, it’s fine.” I move the slightest, my back stiff. I can’t believe I’m still wearing high heels.
“You’re at the hospital, bitch,” Abe snaps back. “I’m calling Ben.”
He hangs up with no further notice. I sigh and place my head on Trevino’s shoulder. The grumpiness comes off him in waves but he stays still until a nurse calls us back.
I’m brought in and vitals are taken. At this point, I’m not so patiently waiting for those pain pills. The nurses ogle Trevino who stands out, a hulking hunk of a man in the beige hospital.
There’s noise outside the door at one point.
“Is that the doctor?” I ask.
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because that’s not the doctor,” he replies. Sure enough, I hear a nurse whisper and then a huff.
“You mean that’s not the doctor you want?” I narrow my eyes. “Who are we waiting for?”
There’s a knock on the door and then Tyler Mulligan appears.
“What the fuck?” Did they already slip me the pain meds or what? “When the fuck did you become a doctor?”
This is the guy who normally serves me drinks at a sex club. And I thought that was when he wasn’t working as a triggerman.
“What are you doing here?” I ask as he walks up. Shit, I’m sure there’s a lot of patients with high blood pressure when he walks into the room.
“What are you doing here?” he asks but glances at Trevino. I know they’re friends because Russet once thought he might be the Ghost. And he helped pass on Daisy’s will when Trevino got a hold of it. He didn’t even worry about coming into contact with the Russians.
“I want pain meds,” I tell him. Since latching onto the idea, I’ve sat around panting for the damn things.
“You’re not going to get a good review if you let your clients go around and get hurt,” Tyler says over his shoulder. His friend remains standing in the corner, his arms crossed.
“She’s her own worst nightmare,” he says.
