Page 16 of Dr Feel Good
“You can afford that?”
I glowered at him.
Remorseless, he smirked at me. “I wouldn’t expect a criminal to have that type of money. On the other hand, I should know better. The Royal Harlots MC is a criminal organization.” His lips tightened into a thin line. “What’s your role in that gang?”
“Not everyone in an MC is a criminal,” I said tightly, my headache worsening.
“No, but I think you are. I see no other reason that you would be shot in the middle of the woods.”
“Could’ve been a hunting accident,” I countered.
“The bullets didn’t match that of a hunting rifle, and you weren’t in hunting gear, so do not try to deceive me with such a blatant lie.”
He was a bold motherfucker, something both admirable and annoying. In a regular situation, I’d show him how much of a criminal I was and warn him to shut the fuck up if he knew what was good for him. But I had no weapon at my disposal to back up my threat, and for the foreseeable future, it seemed I was reliant on him.
Fuck my pain. Adrenaline spiked my temper and helped me to ignore my agony so I could put a motherfucker in his place.
“Look,” I began after a moment of silence. “I’ll save you some of your fucking breath and let you know that I won’t be answering more of your dumbass questions, so either kick me out into the snow, or drop it.”
“I’m a doctor; I couldn’t kick you out and leave you to die,” he said, sounding appalled that I’d say such a thing.
“Then you select option number two.”
“Ichooseoption two because I don’t want to aggravate your condition. I worked my ass off to keep you alive. Otherwise, you’d tell me what the fuck I want to know,” he promised darkly.
For a moment, we just stared at each other. I held his gaze, trying to ignore how pretty his eyes were. The rumbling of my stomach broke the stillness.
“You’re hungry,” he said.
“What a genius you are.”
“Let me change your bandages, then I’ll feed you.”
My tired, overwhelmed brain heard an innuendo, but the inscrutability on his face hid his true meaning. Which could’ve been perfectly innocent.
“Nothing too heavy or elaborate,” he continued.
I nodded. “I understand. I wouldn’t want to vomit all over your pristine bedding. Or you.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time.”
His unconcerned tone irritated me. Instead of biting the hand that fed me, I pressed my lips together and turned my head.
He walked out without saying another word.
“Broccoli cheddar soup with wheat crackers,” I announced, carrying a tray with the box of crackers, two bowls of soup, utensils, and paper napkins.
She needed to get on her feet as soon as possible. I didn’t want blood clots to form. As much as our conversation annoyed me, she’d been through a lot.
I set the tray on the dresser, pretending I didn’t see her struggling into a sitting position or the pain etched on her face. I admired her grit.
“How did you cook broccoli cheddar soup?” she panted. “The lit oil lamps suggest we have no electricity.”
We? She wished.
“Ihave no electricity,” I said succinctly. “But I have pots and a fireplace.”
She squinted at me. “So, you’re a doctor and a frontiersman? Versatile.”
