Bleeding Edge: Elliot Security (Elliot Security Series Book 2)

by Evie Mitchell

  “Antibiotics need time to work.”

  “Can’t you do something?”

  “We’ve already given her anti-nausea medication. Until that works or the antibiotics kick in, we just have to ride it out.”

  “Fuck.” I resumed rubbing circles across Emmie’s back

  Dr. CJ checked his watch. “I have a surgery I need to prep for. Did you have any other questions or concerns?”

  “Emmie?” I brushed a hand over her cheek. She shook her head, eyes still closed.

  “We’re good,” I told him, pushing down the frustration. “Thanks.”

  “My nurses will check on Ms Franklin. See you shortly, Emmie.” He patted her good leg, then turned, leaving the room.

  I shook my head. “Kids shouldn’t be allowed to–”

  Emmie let out a strangled choke, hands frantically reaching for the vomit bag. I thrust it in her face and she clutched the bag, retching painfully.

  “The anti-nausea should kick in shortly,” the nurse told me, moving around the bed to assist. “She didn’t respond to our normal medication, but this one is stronger.”

  Emmie slumped back, tears running down her face.

  “I want to go home,” she whispered, sobs silently shaking her shoulders.

  “I know.” I couldn’t do anything. I had nothing to offer. Impotent rage boiled in my veins.

  “I’m just going to swap this bag out.” The nurse interrupted our moment. I stepped back, letting her work.

  Emmie’s nausea appeared to subside as she flushed her IV.

  “You’ll stay?” Emmie asked, her fingers clinging weakly to my wrist. I placed a hand over hers, soothing the tight muscles.

  “Of course.”

  She relaxed, letting go of my hand. “Thank you.”

  It took an hour, but slowly she drifted, eventually falling into a restless sleep.

  “Yo.”

  I lifted a finger to my lips, hushing Jarrett.

  He made a sorry face, nodding as he stepped quietly into the room.

  “She’s a fighter,” he whispered, squeezing my shoulder as he dropped into the chair beside mine. I slumped back, rubbing tired eyes. I’d spent the last hour hunched over a laptop attempting to get some work done while she slept.

  “No question,” I agreed, frowning at my emails. I’d typed the same sentence three times. I sighed, hitting the delete button marginally harder than required.

  “The case is ramping up,” Jarrett offered.

  “Mm?” I gave up, closing the screen. “Tell me.”

  “It’s definitely related to Jetta.”

  “It’s been confirmed?”

  “Not outright. But one of the bullets has the exact markings of one found at a drug shootout. The shootout was likened to Esso’s operation.”

  “What’s Pax think?”

  “Nothing yet. He’s not holding his breath.”

  “But you think it’s the missing link.”

  “It’s awfully coincidental.”

  I rubbed my chin, beard catching on the rough skin of my thumb.

  “This may be related to Jetta, but I’m not chancing it. We keep up the protection for Emmie.” When I wasn’t in the room, Jack or Jarrett were. There was no way in hell I’d leave her vulnerable.

  “Agreed. Has she clued in yet?”

  “No. Let’s keep it that way.”

  Jarrett nodded. He rolled a paper coffee cup between his big hands, staring at it for a long moment.

  “Her family…” he started.

  “I’m on it.” I nodded, meeting his questioning look. “After we get her settled and Jetta safe. First priority.”

  Jarrett nodded. “Good.”

  Chapter Seven

  Luc

  My arse was at work, trying to get on top of emails. As much as I wanted to be there for Emmie, our work didn’t stop.

  Pax knocked on my open office door. “Hey, can you take Jetta to the hospital?”

  I tensed, immediately on alert. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Jetta just wants to see Emmie. I’d take her, but I got an emergency meeting with the people from White Dog Pictures. Ben’s covering Jetta, but White Dog is his client, so I want him back in the office to field the new bullshit these people are bound to throw up.” Pax frowned. “Why would you assume…?”

  “The infection.”

  “Jack’s with her now.”

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Dude, just because someone’s there doesn’t mean my responsibility ends.”

  Pax’s mouth twisted down. “You’re not her keeper.”

  I stood, reaching for my phone and wallet. “True. But I’m her friend.”

  Pax watched me, his eyes entirely too knowing. “We have a policy.”

  “No dating the employees.” I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. I know.”

  And I’m trying to figure a way around that.

  He scratched his chin. “She’s our best analyst, bar Sawyer.”

  “She’s our best analyst period.” I corrected. “Sawyer’s a flake. Sure, he gets the job done, but Emmie’s solid as a fucking rock. Her completion rates are–”

  Pax shoved a hand in my face, pushing me away. “Just get Jetta to the fucking hospital.”

  I shoved him back, chuckling. “I don’t know if I want her there.”

  Pax tensed. “Why?”

  “Dude, the woman took a blow torch to your safe room.”

  “I’m going to fucking kill Jack.” But the man chuckled.

  “You’re laughing?”

  “She’s a nut. But I can’t but be impressed with her blowtorch skills.”

  Jesus. He had it bad.

  Jack had spilled the beans. Jetta had experienced an emotional meltdown, taking a blowtorch to a locked room in his house. While impressed, I was also a little concerned.

  I knit my fingers together in what I imagined was a stereotypical psych pose. “We gonna talk about your relationship? It’s been a long time coming.”

  Pax turned away, calling over his shoulder. “Sure. I’ll bring the tea, you bring the crumpets. We’ll both hand our balls in at the door.”

  “It’s called Toxic Masculinity, Paxton!” I yelled after him. “A real man learns to embrace his emotions!”

  He flicked me the bird over his shoulder.

  It took me less than twenty minutes to swing by and pick up Jetta from Pax’s. She chatted nervously in the car, rubbing her palms repeatedly on her thighs, tracing a thumb over the tattoo on her other wrist.

  “You good?”

  “Yeah.” Her thumb flicked over the tattoo again. “You and Paxton are close, right?”

  “Mm.”

  “I…” She stopped, biting her lip.

  “You?” I prompted.

  She blew out a long breath. “Nothing.”

  My shoulders tensed. I had sisters. I knew what nothing said in that tone meant.

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  Ah, fuck.

  At the hospital, we got out of the car, heading to Emmie’s room. I let Jetta lead, my hand slipping into my back pocket to pull out my phone.

  Luc: Code 501

  Addie: Really? Who this time?

  Luc: Jetta. We’re visiting Emmie.

  Addie: On my way. You OWE me.

  As soon as we hit Emmie’s room the wall broke. Jetta cracked, big crazy tears breaking free as she sobbed. I ushered her into a chair, then went to the nurses’ station for tissues. By the time I returned, Emmie had also begun to cry uncontrollably.

  Hurry up, Addie!

  I handed out tissues, made soothing sounds, and was generally useless in the face of the sobbing.

  Just as I reached breaking point, Addie appeared, handing me her purse, and quickly setting the room to rights. And throwing me under a bus.

  “I cannot believe you used a five-oh-one on us!”

  “Emmie–”

  “No.” She held a hand up, halting my excuses. “You can go and sit in
that chair.” She pointed to one in the far corner of the room.

  “You sit, you read the newspaper, and you pretend you cannot hear a word we’re saying.” She narrowed her eyes menacingly. “And if you say one word from today’s–”

  “I get it.” I grinned, struggling not to laugh. “Calm ya tits.”

  Her back went ramrod straight. “Calm my–”

  “Would you prefer soothe your breasts?” I asked, blinking innocently.

  “I’ll soothe your–” She threw back the covers, struggling to move.

  “Fine.” I made a settle motion with my hands. “I’ll sit quietly–”

  “Silently!”

  “Silently,” I agreed, “in the corner and let you girls chat.”

  Now I listened with half an ear, flicking through a trashy magazine while Emmie let rip on her frustrations. Personally, I thought she had every reason to be pissed with the world. The woman had taken a bullet for God’s sake.

  They moved on to Jetta and Paxton’s relationship, and I felt like a voyeur listening to my best friend’s girlfriend spill her deepest hopes and fears for their relationship.

  I finally had to interrupt when they started celebrating Jetta and Paxton’s successful coitus.

  “No. Nope. I don’t want to hear about the sexual prowess of my best friend and boss.” I shook my head, lips curling.

  “So, don’t listen.” Addie threw a pen at me. I caught it mid-air, tucking it behind my ear. I shot her a grin, then shuddered as they immediately went back to relationship dissection.

  Jesus. Women really overthink shit.

  I gave up fake listening right around the point Jetta declared she may love Paxton, but she couldn’t trust him. Apparently when a man leaves you just a few days after your parents’ funeral to join the army and you don’t hear from him for ten years, there is some unresolved shit.

  “I need to sort my head and sort my issues with him so we can move onto a path where we have an actual partnership.” She carried on for another moment and I sighed. As much as I liked Jetta, I couldn’t let my brother hang. I dropped the magazine, standing.

  “Having this conversation with him, not your girls would be a good start.”

  I shouldn’t have bothered to try and drop my truth bombs on these undeserving cretins. Emmie and Addie both glared daggers while Jetta looked at me with all the pain in the world in her eyes. I stretched, trying to be the best wingman.

  Dude, you owe me.

  “Look, Pax has shit he still has to deal with. Shit he hasn’t.” I folded my arms over my chest, rubbing absently at the patch of puckered skin where the bullet had torn through my bicep.

  “We’re men. We don’t do emotion and stuff on a good day. But worse, we’re army− we don’t do crying and emotions and bullshit like that because that’s not what gets you through tours of duty. I came home to a mother and sisters who wouldn’t leave me alone. They basically moved in with me and made me talk. You ever met my mother? She makes Leigh Anne Tuohy look like a lamb.”

  Emmie snorted. “Is that a Blind Side reference?”

  I shook my head. “I thought it was a football movie. It is not.” I turned back to Jetta. “Look, I get you have Pax issues. But he has Jetta issues. And those hens just came home to roost. The motherfucker is so tied up in you that he laughed about you trashing his house. Laughed!” I tossed up my hands.

  Addie, for once in her life, didn’t give me shit. Colour me rainbow, the woman backed me up. “And that’s before you even throw both of you bumping naughties into the mix.”

  “Addie!”

  “What?” Addie grinned, shrugging delicately. “I’m just saying sex, especially as the guy is your first love, complicates things.”

  The woman spoke truth.

  Jetta sighed, shoulders slumping as she curled into herself. “You’re right. We need to abstain.”

  I choked. For a beat the room remained silent as we all stared at Jetta. Then I tipped back my head, letting the laughter burst free. Emmie and Addie joined me, all of us roaring at the hilarity of this situation.

  “Good luck,” Emmie chocked out. She grimaced, hands raising to flutter above the bandage at her injured side. I sobered, moving to the bed.

  A nurse bustled in at that moment, likely drawn by our noise. She took one look at Emmie’s pinched, pale face and frowned.

  “Out! Now! Ms Franklin is meant to have taken her painkillers and be sleeping right now.”

  Emmie shrugged sheepishly. “Hashtag sorry, not sorry.”

  “Out!” The nurse ordered.

  I followed the girls, throwing a glance over my shoulder. Emmie gave a finger wave.

  “Luc?”

  “Yo?” I turned back to the two women in front of me.

  “Can you take me to the office?”

  “Sure.”

  Jack rounded the corner, a sandwich in hand.

  “Stay with Jack for a minute. I left something in the room.”

  I jerked my head at Jack. He nodded. I turned, jogging back.

  The nurse had left, but Emmie was awake, fat tears rolling down her cheek.

  “Hey,” I called, coming back into the room. “You okay?”

  She wiped frantically at her face. “Of course, yes. I mean, of course.” She cleared her throat.

  “You know you don’t have to lie to me.” I sank into the chair beside the bed, reaching out a hand for hers. “You’re entitled to tears.”

  She chewed her lip, looking anywhere but at me, her green eyes shimmering. “I don’t like feeling helpless,” she admitted in a whisper. “And I really hate the painkillers.”

  “Why?” I brushed my thumb over her knuckles.

  She shrugged, her eyes on our hands.

  “Emmie?”

  “The medication gives me nightmares.” Her voice cracked on her whispered confession.

  “You need me to stay?”

  She shook her head, withdrawing her hand.

  I hesitated. “You want me to stay until you fall asleep?”

  “I’m okay. I’m used to it.”

  “What do you dream about?”

  “Monsters.” She shuddered.

  I frowned. “The real or imagined type?”

  She jerked, head swinging my way, staring at me with wide eyes. “How did you…?”

  “We all have bones that rattle.” I tapped the side of my head. “Memories writher and morph in my dreams until I can’t tell what is real and what my brain created.”

  She blew out a long breath, her eyelids growing heavy. “I really hate being weak.”

  “You’re weak in body at the moment, true. But soon you’ll be strong and kicking all our arses again.”

  She chuckled, her lashes fluttering down to dust the bruised shadows under her eyes. “Yeah, I will,” she mumbled. “I just hate the nightmares.”

  I reached over, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

  She blinked up at me, “What was that for?”

  “To hurry the sweet dreams.”

  She grinned, her eyelids once again lowering. I watched, waiting. A moment later her breathing eased as she fell into unconsciousness.

  “Luc? You ready?” Jetta asked from the door. Addie propped a hand on her hip, glancing from Emmie to me and back. Jack entered, settling in my seat in the corner.

  I hesitated, watching Emmie’s chest rise and fall peacefully.

  “Yeah. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  Emmie

  As much as I liked Dr. CJ, and I really did, right at this moment it took all I had not to hit him over the head with a bedpan. Preferably a used one.

  “Ms Franklin?” Dr. CJ asked.

  “I reject your diagnosis.”

  He blinked at my statement. “Ms Franklin–”

  I’d spent the ten days recovering. I’d battled an infection. I’d vomited more in one day than I had in my entire life. I wore a bandage that itched like crazy. But this?

  Ridiculous.

  “Sixteen weeks t
o full recovery? It’s too long.” I sounded like a petulant child, and I didn’t give a flying toot.

  “Emmie–”

  I shoved my hand up in Luc’s face, halting whatever nonsense he was about to spout. The man may have spent the last few weeks working out of my hospital room, but I had no time for him right now.

  “No. No words from you.” I looked back at the doctor. “Tell me what I need to do to be out of here, home and healed.”

  The doctor blew out a slow breath.

  “Your bones are still healing, and we can’t start rehab until that infection is completely gone. We push this too quickly and we could damage the healing we’ve achieved. We’re going as fast we can, but your body speaks for itself. It’s telling us it needs more time.” He tapped a pen against the clipboard in emphasis. “At this stage, another two days in hospital.”

  “And then I can go home?”

  “And then, if you pass all the tests, you can go home.”

  I sat back on the bed with a smile.

  “With a walker.”

  My smile twisted down.

  “That’s impossible. Her apartment’s a walk-up.”

  I glared daggers at Luc. He ignored me.

  Dr. CJ frowned. “Is Mr Falco correct? Does your apartment have stairs?”

  I continued to scowl at Luc. “Yes, but it’s fine.”

  The doctor shook his head. “No stairs. The injury alone makes you unstable, even with the walker. We need alternative arrangements until you’re well enough to manage on your own.”

  “But–”

  “She can stay with me.”

  “I’m not staying with you,” I snapped, narrowing my eyes at Luc before switching my gaze back to the doctor, offering a breezy smile. “Seriously, I’m fine.”

  I can’t afford not to be.

  “I’m not discharging you unless someone is available to assist. You’ll require a wheelchair, a walker, and eventually a walking stick. We haven’t even got you up yet.”

  “But–”

  “Emmie, I told you, you can stay with me,” Luc interjected.

  No way in hell, buddy.

  I let out a frustrated grunt. “No. One.” I held up a finger, ticking off the reasons. “You have work during the days. Two, I refuse to impose on you. Three, your house is under renovations, four–”