Page 33 of Razor
When she shook her head, he told her, “Find your keys, Honey.”
As she rummaged through her purse for her key fob, she shared, “I drove with my left foot. It was hard.”
Razor shook his head, biting his tongue to keep from lecturing her. Honey didn’t need him to detail the hazards of dangerous driving. She’d probably experienced more than he could imagine. His stomach twisted inside with guilt and concern. He should have been there to help.
“Why didn’t you call me immediately?” he asked, crossing the parking lot with big strides.
When he climbed the steps into Inferno, Honey hid her face against his chest. “I look awful.”
“You are absolutely beautiful, sweetheart.”
Scythe stood at the entrance. “Everything okay, Razor?”
Razor met Scythe’s gaze. “No. Would you move a car for me?”
“Of course. Got the keys, or do I….”
Interrupting the rest of that question, Razor asked Honey. “Do you have them, sweetheart?”
She held them out without peeking.
Scythe took them from her, his brow wrinkling with concern. He glanced back at Razor silently asking how he could help. Razor knew his MC brother was all in for whatever revenge Razor deemed necessary.
“Honey’s car is beige. It’s in section E. You’ll see it. Park it in the back lot near the fence if you can.”
“On it. Your baby’s safe with me, Honey,” Scythe assured her.
Razor didn’t know if the other biker heard her whisper, “Thank you.” He nodded his appreciation to Scythe before continuing through Inferno to his health clinic. Someone held the door for him at each entrance and exit.
Finally, he reached the X-ray chamber Lucien had finally approved a couple of months ago. Razor stretched her gently out on the table. “Do you need some pain medication, Honey, before I check on your ankle?”
“Will you have to move it?” she asked nervously, shifting her foot slightly. Her immediate, pained gasp answered Razor’s question.
“Don’t wiggle your ankle,” he warned her.
“Now you tell me,” she muttered, making him hide the smile that curved his lips upward.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Can I trust you not to move?” he asked.
“Yes,” she promised, nodding.
“Two minutes,” he promised.
“I’ll stay right here.”
“Good girl.”
Razor dashed for the supply of pain meds he kept locked in his office. He grabbed a syringe and filled it with a fast-acting painkiller, vowing her boss would pay for every second of Honey’s discomfort. Returning to the screening room, he found Honey sitting up.
“What part of don’t budge was unclear to you?” Razor growled.
“The table is cold,” she whispered.
“Sorry, sweetheart. It has to be like that. We’ll do this as fast as possible so you can get some relief.” Razor set the capped syringe and an alcohol swab on the upper end of the table.
Honey stared at it, shaking her head. “I don’t like shots.”
“No one enjoys needles.” He helped her stretch back out and rolled her carefully onto her left side. “Bend this top leg and rest your knee on the table to prop you up.”
