Page 19 of Beastly Armory
“He’s not dying.”
They say it at the same time. But Max obeys. Standing, he grabs the back of his black T-shirt and pulls it over his head, exposing those pecs that make my pussy water.Damn, he’s even got those V muscles on the sides of his cut abs. The black bear tattoo on his chest makes me look away before he sees me blush. “Who did you call?” he asks.
“Just my healer. She’s quick.” He grimaces and quirks one eyebrow. “And quiet,” I assure him. “Look, lion, your healer is probably some newbie who studied under mine anyway. They don’t take part in these games we play.”
“I’ll try to find you something to drink,” Max says to his invalid.
“What’s your name, sport?” I ask the wounded man.
He snorts. “Derichs.” He glances to where Max walked off to. “Taking your opportunity to finish me off?”
“No. I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“Why?”
“Because you two have information I want. And once I save your ass, you’re going to give it to me.”
The corners of his eyes lift as he attempts a smile. “It’s not my information to give. May as well kill me.”
“You’re loyal.”
“Yes, I am. Not like you foxes.”
My lips pinch at the insult, but he’s got a point. My father is a piece of shit. Pretty sure every man in my lineage has lied, cheated, or stolen. Especially on their wives. Everyone, with Cal being the exception, but he’s still got time.
“Touché,” I say.
“Is this her?” Max comes barreling back into the waiting room, pointing at a gleam of light illuminating the back of the store through the bathroom window.
“I’ll go check. Hold him.” I let Max take over as I shimmy out into the car wash area.
A familiar Volkswagen pulls up and parks as the headlights click off. “Mari, this way!” The shadow of her large head and helmet of blonde hair turns toward me.
“Liv, what’s wrong?” Her voice holds no panic. She’s been doing this work for us for too many years to let anything rattle her.
“Man’s been shot. Inside here.”
She shoulders past me into the office, carrying her black leather physician’s bag. Kneeling next to Derichs, she gets right to work. With a nod, she orders Max, “Help me lay him on that counter there.” The two settle the man on the old sales surface, the open cash register shoved aside. An inappropriate giggle almost escapes me, thinking about him paying with his life.
“Livy, quit being useless and hold this flashlight,” Mari commands.
I hurry to her and do as she instructs. While she cleans the tank and drapes him for surgery, I eye Max above the light. His handsome face contorts in concentration and worry for his man. Just like when Cal broke his leg falling from the tree house when we were little.
Mari gives Derichs some pills to take the edge off the pain and tells Max to pin him down while I hold the light. The tank is like stone. Despite her cutting into his flesh (which she has numbed), and then digging through tendons and muscle with tweezers, he grits his teeth and doesn’t move. Max’s hands press on his arms to ensure he doesn’t. When she finds the fragment of the bullet and digs it out, itplinkswhen she drops it into a metal tray resting on his belly.
Derichs’s head falls back in relaxation while she sutures him up.
“You did well, soldier,” she says as she gives him a couple more pills to take later and gathers her equipment. I clean up the area, and Max helps Derichs to a seated position.
“Mari, thanks,” I say before she reaches the door.
“What do I owe you?” Max asks her.
“Nothing. Just doing my duty. Make sure he drinks lots of water.” She heads out the door.
Derichs clears his throat. The wistful smile on his face lets me know he’s high as a fucking kite. His pupils are the size of pinheads. “Livia… despite being a fox, you came through. Thank you.”
“Sure, bud. You wanna tell me where the armories are now?”