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Scotch looks possessed. The thick cords in his neck standing out as he screams at someone as fluently as if he was a native speaker. Andre isn’t missing a beat either.
Everyone’s yelling in a violent clash of words that I’ve never heard, as Scotch shoves his way through the emergency room with me clutched against his chest. All while holding pressure on my wound.
“Guess you’re the right guy for the job,” I say as I drop my head to his thick shoulder. Not that I have much choice. I’m weak as an overdone spaghetti noodle.
And he feels safe. Strong. Vital. Everything I need.
“I can’t speak Spanish. Well, I can, but it takes forever. It’s nothing like Slavic languages.”
He doesn’t reply. He’s busy storming down the corridor, barking orders or something, using words that make no sense to me. But for some reason, talking at him feels better. Because it’s helping me stay awake, when all I want to do is curl into him and get warm and go to sleep.
My eyes whip open.
No.
No sleep!
I’m not ready for the dirt nap. I’ve got things to do. And dying isn’t one of them.
“Scotch, is someone going to fix me soon?”
He shoves through a set of silver metal swinging doors. “Yep.”
“Oh, god! Is this an operating room?”
“It’s going to be.”
That’s the last thing I remember before everything fades to black.
What is that sound?
Beep. Beep. Beep.
On and on.
Someone please stop that noise before I break something.
If only I could lift my arms. They must weigh ten thousand pounds.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
I turn my head to the side and wince. Ugh. Damn. I thought the pain would be gone.
But it’s not. Blinking my scratchy eyes, I scan over the room. It’s small, stark white, and smells mildly of antiseptic. Better than I expected for San Miguel.
“You’re awake.”
I jolt at the sound of the deep, smoky, southern voice from my other side.
I know that voice.
Instinctively, I revert to cursing in Czech. “Do prdele.”
But even as I curse him, my core clenches and fills with warmth. Talk about a mind-fuck.
I turn my head toward him.
My vocal cords don’t want to work. Yet, I manage one word that sums up so much. “You.”