Pieces of clothing still clung to her body, but the areas the clothes didn’t cover showed him fresh bruises. Anger welled up in him. He turned one slender hand over, breaths coming harsh. Then he placed two fingers over her wrist.
Razor wasn’t a praying man, but at that moment, he sure hoped someone up there was listening.
“I’ll fucking make him pay. I swear this to you, Nat,” he said in a vehement whisper.
Was it a figment of his imagination, or did her eyelids flicker? He hadn’t released her wrist yet. There it was. A faint pulse. Nat was still miraculously alive. She could make it if he hurried.
He pulled out his phone, only to see it ringing. A call from Brick, probably wanting answers. Good. Brick, he could deal with. Brick had always been more reasonable than King.
“I need your help,” were the first things he said to his VP.
“Razor, I just got a hold of Grizzly. He said you left in the middle of a job for a personal emergency,” Brick said carefully.
“She’s dying. Help me,” he croaked. Razor never begged his entire life, not since he was a kid. He was transported back to the tiny trailer he called home. Back to being that helpless and skinny kid who couldn’t protect his own mother. He loathed that feeling.
“Who is? Where the hell are you?” Brick demanded.
Razor gathered his thoughts. He wanted to punch himself. Razor pulled himself away from those old memories. Damn it. He was a grown adult now, no longer that useless kid. Razor told Brick what he needed and where he was.
Brick probably had questions about Nat, but Razor wouldn’t give them to him yet.
“And Brick?” he added after telling Brick what he wanted. “Hurry.”
Razor didn’t leave Nat that entire time. He reached for her hand, surprised she squeezed back. Her eyes fluttered open for a couple of moments. Razor thought she smiled at him, but he couldn’t quite tell. Not really.
Darkness had fallen while he waited for help to arrive. Tonight, the skies were pitch black. Only a few distant stars came out.
Razor would’ve taken her on his Harley to the nearest hospital if he could, but he didn’t want to move her. What if she died on the way to the hospital?
He finally spotted red and blue lights on the horizon. An ambulance. Finally, Brick arrived with help. The ambulance came to a stop a few feet from his Harley. Brick came out, along with two paramedics.
“Brick, over here,” Razor yelled.
They ran toward him, the two paramedics carrying a stretcher between them.
“Easy,” he said, watching them lift Nat on the stretcher.
Brick studied Nat, then him intently. Razor had no answers for him, not yet. The paramedics took Nat to the back of the ambulance, and Razor rode with them.
Razor knew he was hovering. He should have let the paramedic do his job, but he didn’t budge. The paramedic made an annoyed sound, then started checking her injuries. Razor remained where he was, sitting next to her and holding her hand.
How had she gotten into this state? Did Nat get in trouble because Razor gave her his card? Damn it all. He only wanted to help her.
Razor remembered wanting to take her with him when she came running into the parking lot holding his cut. Screw the consequences. There was no use contemplating his past actions. It was done.
“We need to have the hospital check her for internal injuries,” the paramedic was saying.
Razor let the guy’s words wash over him. He couldn’t focus on anything else but the rage coming to a boiling point inside him. Thinking about the numerous ways he’d make Vulture pay kept his sanity in check.
He looked at her puffy and battered face, surprised to find her staring back at him. Relief washed over her features, or had he imagined that?
“Thank you,” she mouthed before falling unconscious again.
They soon arrived at the hospital. Nat was taken inside and right into the emergency room. Razor couldn’t be with her in there, despite his arguments. So he remained in the waiting room with Brick.
Razor had forgotten what a pain in the ass it was, waiting in the hospital.
He remembered all those times he had had to accompany his mom to the hospital. How he hated her for making excuses for his dad. Even as a kid, he didn’t think the nurses or hospital staff believed she had fallen down the stairs for the sixth or seventh time.
Unlike his complacent mother, Nat had reached out to him for his help. That made her stronger than his weak mother.
“Who is she, Razor?” Brick finally asked, breaking the silence. “She’s important to you, that much is clear.”
“She’s mine,” Razor answered simply.