Page 43 of Warrior's Walk
Definitely not Liza’s voice. “Rhett?”
“I need help. Please, hurry.”
Every muscle in my body tightens. “Where are you? What happened?”
“I fell,” he pants, sounding out of breath. “In my bathroom. I can’t get up. My leg is locked.”
“Are you bleeding? Did you break something?” I’m already climbing out of the tub, scrambling for my discarded clothes.
“No, I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“I’m on my way. Hang tight.”
“Riggs.” I can hear him swallow. “The front door is locked.”
“Well, how am I supposed to get in?”
“I think my bedroom window is unlocked. I had it open the other day to air the place out.”
“You want me to break in?”
“It’s not breaking in if I invite you. Hurry,” he moans. I can hear the pain in his voice.
“I’ll be right there. Hang on.”
My heart is in my throat as I race to my truck. My clothes are damp and sticking to my skin.He’s okay. He’s fine.Despite my self-assurances, I’m driving twenty miles over the speed limit, running stop signs like they don’t exist. I park beside his car and hop out, rushing around to the back of his building. I have to count in my head the number of windows I pass until I think I’m standing below the right one.
Itbetterbe the right one or I’m going to jail.
The window slides open easily, and I breathe a sigh of relief, hoisting myself up and over the edge. My landing is a mess, andI face-plant on his bed, getting tangled in his unmade sheets. I scramble to the foot of the bed and right myself before dashing into the bathroom. “Rhett,” I call out.
“In here.” His voice echoes off the tiled walls.
His body is sprawled across the floor and he’s lying in a puddle of water that dripped from his body—his still wet and glistening,nakedbody.
Stop, I scream in my head.
“Are you hurt?” I ask, crouching down beside him.
“I don’t know. Everything hurts.”
From the sound of his voice, he’s telling the truth. “What were you doing?”
“Uh, showering?”
“Why didn’t you call Mandy? He’s right next door.”
“’Cause I’m fuckin’ naked. I’d rather you see my junk than Mandy.”
I let that slide and grab a towel from the rack to cover his body. Even in a quick panicked minute, I can see how perfectly he’s shaped, all toned and tanned, tight lines and tattooed skin.
Rhett is on his side, curled in the fetal position with his right leg stuck straight out. I gently roll him toward his back, sliding my hands under his knee and thigh. “I’m gonna try to manipulate the joint.” Applying the slightest pressure, I urge his knee to bend, but stop when Rhett cries out.
“Holy fuck, that hurts.”
“You should go for an x-ray. Maybe an MRI.”
“No,” he breathes, eyes widening in panic. “Nononono. Just get me to bed.”