Recalled (Death Escorts #1)(37)
Author: Cambria Hebert

I was a world-class ass. I deserved an eternity of floating through an empty void.

For a moment I imagined what it might be like there. Maybe I should just cut my losses and let myself get recalled.

“Dex!” Piper demanded, worry in her tone.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

“Hey! Stay with me. We’re almost there.” She flicked some switches in the dash and directed the heat vents toward me except they weren’t blowing heat yet and the air was icy cold.

“That’s freezing!” I complained.

“It will keep you awake.” She retorted. “And don’t be sorry. That guy had it coming. In the couple weeks he’s been at the diner he’s done nothing but torture us all.”

I didn’t say anything else as she pulled into the parking lot of the clinic where she interned. She got out and came around to open my door and I looked up at her. “What are we doing here?”

“You need stitches. He hit you with a frying pan.”

A frying pan. My plan worked a little too well. I knew there was a joke in this somewhere but I just couldn’t find one. This didn’t feel funny.

“Come on,” she said and I followed her into the side door of the clinic. She called out a greeting to one of the nurses who exclaimed over my bloody face and we were ushered into an empty exam room.

“We’re pretty backed up,” the nurse said, apparently this is a morning of accidents for everyone. “Unless you want to stitch him up?”

Piper shook her head. “My hand is too unsteady this morning. How about I get him cleaned up a bit then I will go out there and help out while you stitch him up?”

“Are you all right? You look pale.” The nurse said, reaching out to feel Piper’s forehead.

She smiled. “I’m fine, Jackie.”

“Well when I come back I want to hear about what happened,” she said, giving me a pointed look.

“It was the other guys fault,” I told her.

“It always is,” she said around a sigh then disappeared out of the room.

Piper began going through cabinets, pulling out supplies and creating a small pile on the rolling table beside her. Then she washed her hands, pulled on some plastic gloves and rolled her tray over beside me.

“Hold still. This might hurt,”

I watched as she ripped open a little pack of wipes and stepped closer to me. She smelled like coffee and pancakes. She gripped my chin in her gloved hand and titled my face upwards and brought the pad down near my hairline. I winced when she wiped it.

“That’s cold!” I growled.

“Serves you right,” she snapped and wiped me again. The cut began to sting and I let out a growl. She pulled back and dropped the pad, now covered in red onto the table. She reached for another then looked at me. “We need to check you for a concussion.”

“I don’t have one,” I denied.

She half smiled and said, “Okay tough guy.”

She positioned herself between my legs and lifted the wipe once more. She was so close I could hear her breathing. It was a soft sound and her chest rose and fell steadily. Her free hand brushed through my hair, pushing it away from the cut, but instead of short quick strokes, her hand moved slowly and went through my hair all the way to the back of my head.

I heard her clear her throat, but I didn’t look up. My stomach was bouncing around and my heart was pounding. I told myself I might have a concussion after all… but deep down I knew that wasn’t it. It was her closeness affecting me.

I liked it.

Once more the voice programmed inside me—inside this body—whispered, Kill her now. I could. I could reach over to the table and grab something sharp. I could use it to take away her life.

But then she would stop breathing.

And I liked that sound.

I told that voice to shut up and I listened once more to the breaths that filled her lungs.

“Almost done,” she said low, reaching for another wipe. “Does it hurt very much?”

“Yes,” I whispered and my eyes widened.

She lowered her hand and looked at me. She was so close I could see all the different colors that made up the depth in her eyes. I don’t know why I said yes. My head didn’t hurt. In fact, I didn’t even think of it at all.

“I meant to say no,” I said, still looking in her eyes. The room around us seemed hushed; there were no other sounds but the ticking of the wall clock and Piper’s slow, even breathing.

“You hit that guy for me,” she whispered.

I felt myself nod. I might have needed an excuse to get her out of the diner, but I’d hit that guy because he hurt her.

She brushed at my hair once more and I leaned a little closer, my eyes closing.

“It wasn’t the first time you did something to protect me,” she whispered again.

I nodded again, my hands coming up to grip the sides of her waist.

She looked down at me and I pulled her even closer. I could now feel the heat radiate from her body and into me. Her face leaned closer to mine and I lifted mine up.

Inches… mere inches…

“Tell me who you really are,” she said, the words practically touching my lips.

My hands tightened around her and it took a minute for her words to actually make it to my brain. When they did, some of the haze I felt ebbed away and my eyes widened.

“What do you mean?”

And just like that the moment was lost. The corners of her mouth fell and she looked at me with some kind of disappointment in her eyes. The door to the room opened, and she jumped back like she was caught doing something illegal and turned away.

“His wound is all clean. His pupils seem responsive so I don’t think he has a concussion. He’s ready for stitching.”

“Doc could use you in exam three,” the nurse said, coming in and grabbing a pair of gloves.

Piper disappeared from the room without a backward glance. The nurse pulled up a stool holding a needle and thread. “Did she numb you?”

“No,” I said. “Just do it.”

“It’s going to hurt,” she warned.

“I don’t care.”

“You got it bad,” she said, shaking her head.

“What are you talking about?” I ground out as she directed me to lie back.

“Piper. Only a lovesick fool would refuse numbing.”

“I’m not lovesick,” I demanded as she stuck the needle in and began to stitch me up. It hurt so much I almost asked for that numbing shot.