Page 69

“I can tell by his scars.” Emily nodded, snapping on another glove. “Do you want to feel the needle as I stitch you up, or are you going to let me numb your leg?”
Keaton chuckled. “You can numb it as long as it’s just a local. My days of being tortured are over, but I don’t want painkillers. I don’t need to be a walking zombie.”
“God forbid.” She went to the tray, snagged a large syringe, and jabbed him with it.
He flinched.
“All right. Let’s get this glass out.” She glanced at the nurse. “Be ready with the flush. I want to clean out the wound right away. Hopefully, we won’t see too much blood when I take this out. If we do, it changes everything.”
Keaton held his breath. He’d been through much worse, but he wasn’t a fool. He knew veins and arteriesran up and down his leg, and if the wrong one had been nicked, well, that would suck.
Fletcher left his hand on Keaton’s shoulder, and he certainly appreciated the support. It wasn’t because he was squeamish. It was more because, if he didn’t squirt a crap ton of blood, Fletcher knew he might jump off the hospital bed and race out of the room.
His heart pounded in his chest.
The fire. The flames. The smoke. The gas. The gunshots. Trinity’s scream. It all played over and over in his brain.
But what really killed him? What devoured him in the quiet hours? It was that he’d failed the two people he’d been charged to protect. The people he’d come to love. One was God only knew where, fighting for her freedom. For her life. The other one was under the knife, also fighting for his life.
And it was all Keaton’s fault.
He stared at his leg while Emily slowly lifted the glass. It burned his thigh. Blood oozed from the open wound, but nothing spewed like a volcano, and the glass wasn’t as big as he’d thought, the cut not as deep.
The nurse doused the opening with a solution. It was cold. But other than that, he didn’t feel much. At least not physically. Emotionally? He was dying inside.
“Looks better than I expected. You need maybe fifteen stitches.” Emily took the needle the nurse held out and went to work.
Keaton felt a little pinch and some pressure. But nothing else. He rolled his neck, glancing up at Fletcher. “Check your cell. I want to know if we’ve heard anything from Dawson or Hayes.”
Fletcher dug into his pocket. “I got a text from Hayes. The fire marshal, the inspector, and the department's fire investigator just arrived. The fire is out, but now comes the hard part. Hayes said his crew is about to leave, and he got someone to cover the rest of his shift, so he’s headed this way.”
“And what about Dawson? Where’s he at?”
“I don’t know.” Fletcher tapped his fingers on his phone. “I’m texting him now, but when he left the scene at your house, he mentioned going to have a little chat with Fenton.”
“He showed up earlier to talk with Trinity.” Keaton focused on what the doctor was doing, almost wishing he’d never asked for his leg to be slightly numb. He needed to be reminded of the mistakes he’d made. “I can’t stand that man. He lied to and cheated on Trinity. He’s an arrogant asshole. But does Dawson have any real reason to believe he’d have anything to do with this? He’s not that bright.”
“Maybe not,” Fletcher said. “But he learned two things in the last few hours.”
“What’s that?”
“The first one was that Anna overheard him telling some pretty radical lies about you to some people in Massey’s Pub the other day.”
“What kind of lies?”
“He was telling anyone who would listen that he’d heard you didn’t have a stellar reputation in the Navy. That you were actually released from your contract.”
Keaton chuckled. “No one is released from the Navy. You’re either discharged or you're court-martialed. It’s pretty cut and dry.”
“I know. That’s what piqued her curiosity. So, she brought her drink closer to the table and listened more intently,” Fletcher said. “Fenton went on to say we were all discharged because of how Ken died. He then said how he’d learned you had a temper—with women. That one even had to file a restraining order against you, and now she’s dead.”
Keaton clutched the side of his bed. “I’m going to strangle that asshole with my bare hands.”
“That’s not what got Dawson’s hackles up, because it’s all lies.”
“Based in truth,” Keaton mumbled. “Petra filed a restraining order against a stalker that I did punch, and Petra is dead.”
“Do you want me to continue, or do you want to focus on the twisted lies?”