Page 33 of Sam to the Rescue
“You don’t have to come, I’m fine. Really.”
I pull to the curb and shut off the motor. “What the fuck?”
“This time, it really was not my fault.”
I take a real deep breath and count to ten. “It never is, babe. Just tell me you’re okay.”
“Other than a broken nose and black eye, I’m fine.” As she relays the story, my fists tighten on the wheel. When I find the mother-fucker who ran her off the road, I am going to make him rue the day he was brought into this world.
Zig-zagging through traffic, it’s almost an hour before I reach her side. At her bruised face, my chest tightens, my eyes water, and the lecture I’d carefully crafted during the drive, fails to find my tongue.
“S-sugar.”Fuck.Tears drip down my face as I lean over and kiss the unbruised side of her face.
Her good eye opens. “It looks worse than it is but they want to keep me overnight for observation.”
“Probably for the best.” I hold her hand, my mouth dry from the hurting going on inside. I love this woman so much, I would be lost without her.
“You should go home, tough guy. There’s nothing you can do here.” She squeezes my fingers as I pull the chair closer to the bed and sit.
“What if the asshole comes for you again?”
“I got Annie.” She pats beside her, lifts the sheets, and exposes her pistol.
“Since when did you name your weapon?” I try to imagine how she got it there but come up empty.
“Since today.” Her lopsided smile reminds me why I’m here and I get mad all over again. “What if you fall asleep and Mr. Etch-a-Sketch tries to kill you?”
“Lucky will be here.”
“And he is where?” I glance around the room waiting for him to magically appear.
Ignoring my antics, she reaches for a rubber slice topped with gray broccoli. “Getting me real pizza.”
“He should be here, guarding you.”
“My dad is right outside the door. Seriously babe?” She cups my cheeks. “I keep telling you, I’m fine. My injuries are nothing compared to what might happen if the ammonium nitrate is put to use. You need to go do your thing.”
“Shit.” My hand rasps over my short, itchy beard and while I’m deciding what to do, her eyes drift to the door.
My Aussie pal walks in with a cardboard box and my temper flares but I bite my tongue. It’s not his fault I married a hellion who refuses to listen.
Sam puts her fingers to my lips when I open my mouth to speak. “Stop! I am not a child and you cannot expect your friend to follow me twenty-four-seven. We’ve talked about this.”
Sitting, I put my face in my hands and rub my eyes while visions of Afghanistan dance in my head. I don’t know how long I’m out but Lucky revives me with a solid punch to my arm.
He shoves his phone at me. “Jack’s wife. Talk to her. Now.”
I look to my wife for support but she raises her brows and shrugs. For the first time I recall, she sides with someone else and it stings.
“There is not a goddamned thing wrong with me.”
“Then talk to her, you fuckin’ wus.” The man glares as does my one-eyed wife which makes me feel guilty because she should be resting, not worried about me.
“Fine.” I snatch his damn phone, walk into first vacant room and push the number he has open.
The shrink answers the phone before it even rings. “Did you find him, Lochlan?”
“Yes, he found me.” My rude tone sets my face on fire. My mother raised me better than that. “Sorry. Let me start over. Hi, Doc. I guess my granny pants ex-friend told you why he wanted me to call.”