Page 31 of Razor
Automatically, the kind woman replied, “You too. Are you going somewhere?”
“Out to my car,” Honey answered and turned to go. Get out of here now!
“Oh, no!” Honey grabbed for the chair in front of Eileen’s desk when her foot got tangled in its wooden legs. She crumpled to the floor, gasping when a sharp pain flared in her ankle. Crap, crap, crap!
“Honey! Are you okay?” Eileen dashed around her desk.
Pushing away the discomfort, Honey nodded. “I’m good. What a goof I am.” She battled her way to her feet and straightened her clothing.
Eileen picked up Honey’s purse and handed it to her. “Let me check around and make sure nothing tumbled out. I’m afraid your cup is damaged. And it’s so cute.”
Honey took the handbag and peeked inside, spotting the shards of battered pottery. She reached to dump them in the trash and stopped herself. She wouldn’t leave anything here that she treasured—even if it was broken.
“Here’s your lipstick, Honey. Oh, and your lunch sack. Whatever you made is flattened I’m afraid,” Eileen said, giving her the small tube and the brown bag. “You’re leaving, aren’t you? Did that asshole fire you?”
The kind woman’s concerned look made it almost impossible for Honey to keep her emotions in check. She blinked furiously to maintain her composure. Honey wouldn’t give Al the satisfaction of learning she’d dissolved into tears.
“I’ll miss seeing you, Eileen. Take care of yourself.” Honey turned and stepped on her injured foot. Pain lanced through her foot and calf. Honey bit her lip and tried not to limp, knowing that she failed miserably.
“Honey. You’re hurt. Let’s call someone to help you,” Eileen suggested.
Honey didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Focusing on three linoleum squares in front of her, Honey put one foot in front of the other. Somehow, she made it to her car.
Chapter 10
In the middle of sewing up a gash on Wraith’s forearm, Razor paused when his phone buzzed in his back pocket. He ignored it to focus on his patient. “Caroline is going to worry. I’ll put a smiley-face bandage on here to disguise it.”
“Thanks, Razor,” the big man said gratefully as Razor tied off the last stitch.
“A tetanus shot and you’re finished. Go home and let that Little girl fuss over you for the rest of the day. No weight-bearing activities for the next three shifts with that arm. Light duty here until those stitches come out,” Razor told him as he applied a small row of bandages with emojis on them.
“Really, a poop emoji?” Wraith complained when Razor snuck in an alternative to the cheerful ones.
“Stop getting yourself ripped up.” Razor grabbed the tetanus vial and drew a dose.
“I’m sure I’ve had one of those recently,” Wraith suggested.
“If you puncture yourself with something metal, you get a shot. Caroline would be unhappy if you got lockjaw.”
Wraith shook his head once and rolled up his sleeve. Razor had his choice of bulging muscles to jab. He’d worked out with Wraith in the compound’s gym. The man was a beast.
“Ouch!”
“You can cry if you want. I have tissues over there.”
“Fuck you,” Wraith growled and hopped off the table.
“You’re welcome. Home for today. Light duty tomorrow and all the days to come until that’s healed.” Razor repeated his instructions, suspecting that Wraith would be tempted to rush back to work.
“Yes, Doc. Thank you,” Wraith told him.
He disappeared quickly, eager to see his Little girl, who might need inspiration for the next sex scene in the motorcycle club romance novel she crafted. Razor smiled at the empty room. They were perfect together.
His phone buzzed again. After stripping off his gloves, Razor grabbed the device from his pocket and answered. “Honey? What’s wrong?”
“I got fired from my job at Kitchen Kraft. And I hurt my ankle.” Her voice sounded wobbly and rough. She was crying but trying to hold it together.
Instantly, Razor needed to hold her. His instincts to take care of his Little girl demanded he act. “Where are you, sweetheart?”
