Page 52 of His Game (His Obsession 1)

I watched the horror flit across her face. "I can street fight with the best of them. But even I can't outrun a bullet."

Silently, she helped me get my shirt off. I tried not to make any noise, but I couldn't contain the hiss of pain when she peeled the wet material away from the wound, already beginning to clot. Standing up, she leaned over me to check the back.

Soft strands of her hair tickled my face. I tucked my face into the curve of her neck and shoulder, inhaling her clean scent. It smelled like home to me. And then I laughed to myself. Maybe she was right, and I’d lost more blood than I thought.

"Looks like you're right. I think it went right through." She straightened up, wringing her hands, and I carefully eased back against my chair. "I don't know what to do, Luca. Do you have a first aid kit or something?"

"Ask Lisa," I told her. "She knows where it is." My eyes dropped to her ass as she rushed out to do as I'd said, a bit surprised at her eagerness to help me.

She was back in record time, a first aid kit in one hand and a bowl of water in the other. Her hands shook as she balanced it on her hip and shoved aside some papers on my desk before she set everything down. She eyed my shoulder for a few seconds, then turned and ran back out of the office, returning with some washcloths and one large towel. "I thought it would help protect your chair."

"The blood will wipe off," I told her.

She made me lean forward and shoved it behind me anyway. Picking up one of the washcloths, she dipped it in the bowl of water. "And you know this, do you?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. Why do you think there's no carpet in this house?"

Her gray eyes flashed up to mine, but only for a second before she went back to her task. Carefully, she wiped the blood from my arm and hand as I sipped on my whiskey and tried to ignore how good she smelled.

While she worked, I let my eyes travel over the top of her hair. It was lighter than it was this morning. I wasn't sure I liked this color. It looked cheap. The same as half of the girls at my clubs. And it was missing the soft, subtle tones of glinting sunlight that she had naturally. "Your hair is different."

Something about my tone of voice made her pause. She didn't comment, she only swallowed and went back to work on the bullet hole in my shoulder. When the blood was all wiped away, she dropped the dirty cloth in the bowl of water and picked up the bottle of alcohol. It seemed she knew at least a little about treating wounds. She paused, her eyes going from my shoulder to my face.

"Just do it," I told her.

"This is going to hurt," she warned me, and I almost laughed. I was very familiar with the feeling of an antiseptic being poured into an open wound, whether straight up alcohol or vodka, it all burned the same.

Veda leaned over me, the bottle raised in her hand, then she paused, grabbed the towel, and held it against my chest and arm.

I gulped down the last of my whiskey but hung on to my glass, bracing myself. Seconds ticked by... "For fuck's sake, Veda! Just do it!"

She jumped, liquid splashing onto the bullet wound, and I clenched my jaw, breathing through my nose. Her eyes darted to my face, and then she tipped the bottle, pouring more alcohol into the open wound.

"Son of a fuckin' bitch!" I clamped my teeth together, bearing the pain as spears of fire radiated out from the bullet hole and ricocheted down my arm and up into my neck.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as she patted the towel around the edges.

"You have to do the back, too," I told her.

Veda nodded. "Okay."

I leaned forward in the chair to give her better access. This time she didn't hesitate, and I managed to keep my mouth shut, though I couldn’t contain the hiss of pain that escaped.

"Okay. Now what?" she asked. "A bandage? Do you need some ointment or anything?"

"Is the back still bleeding?" I asked her.

She peeked around my arm and grabbed a rag. "Yeah. A little." I felt her looking at me and glanced up to find her gray eyes dark with worry. "Luca, you need a doctor. What if something was damaged? An artery or nerves or something?"

"If an artery was damaged, I would've been dead before we left the club," I told her.

Opening the first aid kit, she grabbed some bandages. "I'm going to cover up the wounds so nothing gets in them and then I'm going to go ask Lisa or one of the guys to call your doctor. I assume you have someone who makes house calls?"

I grunted as she slapped a bandage on the wound in the back and pressed down. "You watch too many bad movies."

"Okay, then. Hospital it is."

"I'm not going to the fucking hospital."

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