Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“He could have internal injuries, Ford. Don’t move him,” Quick said as gently as he could. “I sent Cayson a text. As soon as we clear the jammers he’ll get it. He’ll be waiting for him to arrive.”
Maybe Ford looked like he was about to lose it, because all of them were giving him a little space. Hearing that Quick’s partner, Dr. Chauncey would be overseeing Dana’s medical care was a relief. The man was an amazing doctor and surgeon. Ford trusted him. When the ambulance finally got there, it took Brian and Quick to keep Ford from breaking into the ambulance to ride with Dana. Damn their rules. He didn’t want him out of his sight.
“Get him in the truck and get him to the hospital,” ordered Duke. “I’ll go make sure Grossman is handled and deal with the police. Quick will follow you. Go! Now!” Ford didn’t know who his boss was talking to. He felt like he was drifting from reality. When the ambulance disappeared, the red lights and siren no longer distracting Ford, he looked around like he had no clue where he was. What was wrong with him? He could hardly catch his breath, his heart felt like it was beating hard enough to be seen through the Kevlar. God, he was so confused, light-headed. His legs felt like they were battling quicksand. Ford felt himself being dragged and practically tossed into a vehicle. It had to be his brother. No one else could move him like that.
“Can you handle him? He’s in non-med shock.”
Ford’s head rolled on the headrest. Quick was there talking to Brian through the driver window, but it sounded like they were talking in a tunnel, even their faces looked distorted and fuzzy. Ford closed his eyes, he didn’t want to look anymore, but as soon as his lids shut he saw a vision of Dana falling to the ground. Ford was jostled hard, then harder. He cracked his eyes open, Brian’s face was there, his gaze worried and stern. He had his big hand on Ford’s shoulder, shaking him. Brian started to sign something but Ford couldn’t keep up. Couldn’t make out the images Brian formed with his hands.
“Just go. I’m right behind ya.” Quick hit the roof of the cab with his fist and was gone.
Dana
This was the strangest pain Dana had ever felt. He hurt a lot, but he also felt numb. Everything was dark and quiet. He wasn’t in his bed, or Ford’s. Ford. Dana groaned and tried to shift his position, but that made matters worse. What the hell was going on?
“Dana. Sit still, buddy.”
Dana recognized that smooth, comforting voice. It was Cayson.
“You got an IV in this arm, so keep it down, Dana.”
Dana didn’t know he’d moved it. His other arm felt heavy and restricted. As his mind struggled to the surface and back to full consciousness, he began to remember what happened. Who told him it was a clever idea to go toe-to-toe with an Infinity? Shit. Ford was gonna strangle him. Where was he?
“Ford,” Dana rumbled, coughing a little at the scratchiness in his throat. Then the pain in his head registered. Good god.
Cayson chuckled softly, while lifting Dana’s eyelids and shining a bright light in them. “You two are meant for each other. He’s just outside, Dana. I unfortunately had to have him removed from the room when I was resetting your wrist. No matter how many times I told him you couldn’t feel anything, he insisted I was hurting you.”
Dana smiled on the inside, his cheek ached when he attempted it on the outside. He needed Ford more than he needed morphine. He just wanted to go someplace warm and sleep. “So, what’s the verdict, doc? When can I get out of here? I’m fine, really. Nothing a couple days’ rest won’t fix.”
Cayson laughed a little louder. “You big tough bounty hunters. You’re always fine. Get shot… you’re fine. Get stabbed…. you’re fine. Get run over by an SUV… you’re fine. Fall twelve feet to the concrete on your head… juuuust fine,” Cayson sing-songed.
“Doc,” Dana moaned miserably. “I think my head might be trying to split open.” Each word he spoke felt like a spike to the back of his head.
Cayson went around the bed to the IV pole and pushed a couple buttons on the flat screen that regulated the medicine. “Gonna up this a little now that you’re awake. You been out for a few hours. You sustained a grade three concussion, Dana. I was debating putting you in a barb-coma.”
“What?” Dana frowned, but the pain that caused made him want to vomit.
“A medically induced coma. Your vitals were stabilized but you wouldn’t wake up. We did all the necessary scans and one of the best neurosurgeons in Atlanta reviewed your CT for brain function. He saw no swelling, masses, or ruptures, so I held off on the coma. But just the mention of it made Ford very difficult to deal with.”