“When can she go home?” Sal demanded.
The nurse looked up at him, her eyes fearful. Sometimes I forgot how scary Sal could be. He had the ability to scare the crap out of people, especially in situations like this.
“Babe,” I said quietly, putting a hand on his forearm and squeezing gently in a silent bid for calm.
He nodded and blew out a harsh breath. I saw the war waging in his eyes, the need to go out and maim Parker and everyone involved. But, he seemed to get a handle on himself, if only a loose one, and sat in the chair by my bedside.
The nurse gave me a grateful look before regarding Sal. “The doctor will want to monitor for infection and make sure the blood loss stops entirely. I can’t say yet, but hopefully by mid-morning at the latest.”
I groaned at the prospect of having to stay. I wanted to get the hell out of there, take a shower, and crawl into bed with Sal. That is, if he didn’t take off to bestow his wrath on all those involved in hurting me. I’d say there was a fifty-fifty shot of that happening.
“You’re clotting really well and your vitals have already improved since you came in, so that’s good news,” she offered with a sympathetic smile.
“Thanks,” I murmured, suddenly feeling like I could sleep for a week.
“Try to get some rest,” she said in parting, pushing the curtain out of the way and leaving the room.
The hospital room felt so large and sterile, the incessant beeping grating my frazzled nerves. I glanced toward the curtain, which had an empty bed that I hoped stayed that way. The last thing I needed was to share this room tonight.
I turned my head toward Sal, surprised to see him taking off his cut and appearing to get comfortable in his chair. “You’re staying?” I asked, unable to hide the hope in my voice.
His eyes narrowed. “Of course I’m staying, Jesus,” he bit out, clearly irritated at my assumption.
Sal’s bedside manner had never been stellar.
I shrugged defensively. “I figured you’d be on a tear.”
He leaned closer, his forearms resting on the bed as he looked intently into my eyes. “Tonight’s actions will not go unpunished or unanswered, I can promise you that,” he said vehemently. “I admit it’s not easy to sit here and not want to draw blood as yours has been drawn,” he continued, his eyes sparkling with intensity. “But, if you think I’m letting you out of my sight for one fuckin’ second then you’re insane.”
I felt a warm, slow smile spread over my face. His delivery might have been harsh, but his words spoke volumes.
I bit my lip, hesitant to push him further but feeling greedy for affection. “Do you think you can fit up here with me?” I asked, indicating my small hospital bed.
His expression softened a degree and swept over my face. “Yeah, I think I can manage as long as I won’t hurt you.”
“It’s just my right arm. As long as you lay on my left side it’ll be fine,” I assured him, my heart soaring as he bent down to unlace his boots. He climbed as gingerly into the bed as his big body allowed and carefully pulled me against him.
“You know the cops will come; they’ll want a statement,” I said quietly after he’d gotten situated. I snuggled into his warm, firm chest and breathed him in.
“Yeah,” he replied, his deep voice vibrating through his body. His fingers stroked idly through my hair, and I marveled at my fierce man’s capacity for tenderness.
“What do you want to do?” I asked. Situations like this one were tricky. I’d been in enough scrapes with the Knights to know the police were not a part of the way justice was delivered in their world. If the cops knew about Parker and something happened to him, well that was a hell of a lot of heat on the club that they didn’t need.
“I need to talk to Cole, but if names are named then any retribution would be a lot tougher for us. I want my own justice with Parker, and it doesn’t include a comfortable cell and cable TV.”
I swallowed hard but nodded. I didn’t ask for more detail. Sal and I had an understanding of sorts about his life with the Knights. I knew in general they stayed on the right side of the law. They owned several businesses and kept out of trouble for the most part. But I also knew they had their own laws, their own sense of justice. And if someone hurt or threatened one of their own, they didn’t hesitate. Part of being with Sal meant I had to understand that. I couldn’t ask questions I didn’t truly want the answers to.
“You okay with that?” he asked gruffly.
I knew what he was asking me, to lie to the police in order to allow him to handle this his way. “Yeah,” I murmured, feeling his lips brush against my temple.
My fingers traced over the tattoos that covered his right arm, appreciating the black and grays contrasting with the vibrant colors.
“Your arm is like a work of art,” I whispered, my voice sounding scratchy as I traced the eyes of the day of the dead emblem on his inner forearm.
“Hmm,” his voice rumbled.
“Why this one?” I asked, tracing the haunting yet beautiful image.