Page 31 of Sly Like a Fox (Romance Expected Dating Service #3)

Fenton

The emergency room at St. Catherine’s Hospital buzzes with its usual chaos of weekend night trauma cases, but I barely notice the drunk college students or domestic dispute victims around us.

The triage nurse takes one look at my blood-soaked shirt and bandaged shoulder and fast-tracks me past the waiting area into an examination room as the EMTs wheel me in.

They transfer me from the ambulance gurney to a hospital bed with efficient professionalism that indicates bear claw wounds aren’t entirely uncommon in their experience.

Jenna sits in the chair beside my bed, her hair disheveled from crawling through air vents and her clothes torn from her escape route, but she’s uninjured.

The adrenaline crash has left her unusually quiet while tracking every movement of the medical staff with the hypervigilance of someone whose survival instincts are still engaged.

She’s stress-grooming without noticing, making her hair even wilder.

“Mr. Nielsen?” A tired-looking doctor appears with a clipboard and the practiced efficiency of someone who’s seen too many weekend trauma cases. “I’m Dr. Garcia. Let’s take a look at those wounds.”

He removes the paramedic’s bandages, revealing the three parallel gashes Porter’s claws carved across my shoulder and upper arm.

The wounds are deeper than I’d realized, with ragged edges that will require skilled stitching to minimize scarring.

A few shifts would probably heal it quickly, but I don’t have enough strength to shift with all the blood loss, so I guess it’s good they brought me here.

“Bear shifter?” Dr. Patterson asks, clearly already knowing the answer from the distinctive claw pattern.

“Unfortunately.”

“You’re lucky these didn’t hit any major arteries or nerves.

The deepest one missed your brachial artery by less than an inch.

” He probes the wounds, checking for foreign debris.

“They’re going to need thorough cleaning and about twenty-five stitches total.

Bear claws carry significant bacteria, so we’ll start you on prophylactic antibiotics immediately.

” He draws up something from a bottle into a syringe and sticks me in the hip.

“Ouch.”

He ignores that and continues with his instructions. “In a couple of days, when you’re strong enough to shift, you’ll be able to stop the meds, and the sutures will fall out during the process. Should take four or five sequential shifts, so don’t start until you feel strong.”

As he works, cleaning the wounds with antiseptic that burns like fire, I think about how close we came to a very different outcome. If Jenna hadn’t acted when she did, Porter would have finished what he started.

Detective Ryan Murphy appears in the doorway as Dr. Patterson finishes the stitching, notebook in hand and expression professionally neutral.

He’s had a chance to restore order and no longer looks like he rushed to my apartment for a late-night call.

“Ready to give your statement?” He settles into the visitor chair as the doctor applies fresh bandages.

“Maria’s getting Ms. Johnson’s version official downstairs, so we can compare details. ”

I walk him through the evening’s events, starting with Porter’s forced entry into our apartment and ending with his humiliating capture in our building’s service corridor.

Ryan takes copious notes, occasionally asking clarifying questions about the timeline and Porter’s specific threats, but I can tell he’s struggling not to smile when I describe how the building’s security systems mysteriously malfunctioned in ways that aided Jenna’s escape.

“These systems just happened to work in your favor?” His tone carries studied innocence that suggests he knows exactly what happened but can’t prove it.

I maintain the same innocent expression that served me well during years of social engineering that I also used on Maria. “Like I told your partner, emergency systems can be unpredictable.”

He closes his notebook with what might be amusement. “For what it’s worth, Porter Kane has outstanding warrants in three states for assault and intimidation charges. Taking him off the streets was a public service, regardless of how it happened.”

I nod. “Maria mentioned some of his charges before.”

Dr. Patterson returns with discharge instructions and a prescription bottle.

“Keep the wounds clean and dry for the next couple of days. No strenuous activity until you feel like the shifting session we discussed, and the stitches come out at that point. Come back immediately if you notice any signs of infection, like redness, swelling, fever, or unusual discharge.”

He hands me a sling for my arm. “Use this if the shoulder gets too painful. The less you move it, the better it’ll heal until you’re ready to accelerate the process.”

Jenna joins us then, and Maria remains partially visible in the hallway, clearly waiting for her partner.

After Ryan leaves with her, I sit on the edge of the hospital bed while Jenna helps me put on a clean scrub shirt the hospital is loaning me.

Her fingers are light around my bandages, but I see the strain of the evening in the methodical way she moves as well as the slight tremor in her hands.

“How are you holding up?” The question encompasses much more than her physical condition.

“Like I just spent an hour playing tag with an angry grizzly bear through an obstacle course designed by sadists.” She manages a genuine smile despite her exhaustion.

“Also like we actually did it. Anklor’s in custody, his network is dismantled, and his most dangerous associate was extracted from a doorway with pulleys and lube.

Three months ago, if someone had told me I’d be here, I’d have thought they were insane. ”

I shoot her a crooked grin. “Three months ago, if someone had told me I’d have a partner who could outmaneuver Porter Kane using only agility and building maintenance access, I’d have assumed they were describing someone fictional.”

We sit in comfortable silence for a moment, both processing the surreal completion of our mission. Around us, the emergency room continues its chaotic rhythm, but we exist in a bubble of exhausted satisfaction. When a nurse appears with our discharge paperwork, I’m relieved it’s almost over.

We’re on our way a short time later after waiting for a taxi.

The ride back to my apartment building passes in contemplative quiet, both of us lost in our own thoughts as the city lights blur past the windows.

My injured shoulder throbs with each bump in the road, but the pain medication is starting to take effect.

The lobby shows signs of the evening’s excitement—wet footprints across the marble floor, caution tape around the damaged service corridor, and a very apologetic-looking building manager who intercepts us at the elevator.

“Mr. Nielsen, I’m so sorry about this security breach.” He wrings his hands as we wait for the elevator. “We’re conducting a full review of our systems to understand how someone bypassed multiple safeguards.”

“These things happen. The important thing is that no one was seriously hurt and the criminal was apprehended.”

Upstairs, my apartment looks like a war zone.

There’s a Porter-sized hole in my front door frame where he forced his way through.

There are holes in the walls, and he ripped out the door to the service area too in his pursuit.

The damage assessment will take days, and repairs will take weeks.

I’m almost surprised the whole building hasn’t been shut down after the emergency systems mysteriously went haywire.

“This place is uninhabitable for a while.” I step judiciously, surveying the destruction with a mixture of resignation and dark amusement.

“Where will you stay?” Jenna picks up a crushed book from my coffee table, probably a casualty of Porter’s big foot, and her voice carries a note I can’t quite identify.

“I could get a hotel room while arranging repairs, or...” I pause, realizing this moment represents a crossroads I hadn’t anticipated.

The words I’m about to say will change everything between us, moving us from partners in crime to something else entirely.

“We could look for a place together. Start fresh somewhere that doesn’t have quite so many memories of elaborate revenge schemes and home invasion attempts. ”

We look at each other for a moment. For weeks, we’ve been playing roles—fake fiancés, sophisticated socialites, and partners in crime—but now, we must decide who we actually are to each other without the framework of our operation against Anklor.

Jenna’s expression shifts through surprise, consideration, and something that looks like hope. She sets the damaged book back on the table with deliberate care. “You want to live together? Officially?”

“I want to build a life together. A real one, based on who we actually are instead of the roles we’ve been playing.

” The words come easier than I expected, carrying three years of suppressed longing for something genuine.

“I know we started this as a mutually beneficial partnership, but somewhere along the way, it became something else for me.”

She moves closer, stepping around debris to stand directly in front of me. “What kind of something else?”

“The kind where I realize I’ve been in love with you since you found my hacker setup and didn’t run screaming.” The admission feels both terrifying and liberating. “I can’t imagine planning a future that doesn’t include you in it.”

Jenna’s smile starts small and grows radiant, transforming her entire face. “I’d like that, though I should probably warn you my idea of home décor runs more toward thrift store finds than expensive surveillance equipment.”