23. Chapter Twenty-Three

Iwoke up to beeping machines. I tried to sit up, but there were so many tubes, and my throat burned thanks to one. There were also straps on my wrists. I fought against them, trying to scream. The beeping grew faster, and people rushed into the room. They worked around me, and the world went black again.

The second time I woke up, the situation was similar.

"You know you need to dose her more often!" Heath's roar broke through everything. "Give her something that will actually put her out!"

The third time, there was no tube in my throat, and I was able to gasp for breath. I tried to sit up, and this time, there were no straps. I tried to look around, but the world was hazy.

What I did see was Heath, coming quickly to my bedside.

"Can't even keep you out for twenty-four hours," he said, sighing heavily. "They got the bullet out, and you got fucking lucky. It could have punctured a lung or torn up your liver. As it stands, it caused internal and external bleeding, but your organs made it out, unscathed, mostly. Your liver was nicked. They also treated you for silver poisoning. It should nullify the effects and let you Change, so you can speed up the healing."

"No broken bones that need to be set?" I asked.

"Nope," he answered, snappy with me.

"You seem mad," I commented as I moved slowly, letting my legs fall over the side of the bed. "I'm sorry Carey was there to see it."

"She told me you ordered her to…pretend like you died." He rushed to my side to help me up. "You Change, and I'll explain why I'm angry."

"Okay," I murmured. I undid the tie of the hospital gown and started pushing through the Change.

"I'm mad because once they got you into surgery, someone called the pack to tell them I had come by with a woman. They violated your doctor-patient confidentiality, and I had to square off with my old pack. That's not your fault. I told you I was bringing you here and should have expected the staff would rat me out. I didn't expect them to rat you out."

I was nearly a werecat by the time he was done talking. With nothing out of place, the Change was just fucking painful, but Heath was right about the silver.

I didn't spend long in my werecat form, going back to my human form as he continued to talk.

"Dirk, Landon, and Carey are at my house. Special Agent Collins was able to explain exactly what he was doing, and I'll vouch for him. He wasn't lying to me. He was following you to see if another attack would happen. He'd picked us up as we left Carey's school. He stopped across the street from the movie theater, just to keep an eye on us. It wasn't malicious or him trying to get your secrets. He was focused on making sure we wouldn't be attacked, and if we were, hopefully catching the men who did it."

"Well, he failed," I growled, my mouth still a little too inhuman to soften my words. I finished the Change and stretched before crumpling over in pain. "Stupid of me. Damn it. My insides hurt."

"Your liver wasn't directly hit, but it was nicked, remember?" Heath helped me sit down. "And there's the problem of having been shot. How can you forget about that?"

"Sorry, it's been a while," I snapped, but I wasn't angry at him. I was mad at me. As I sat back down on the edge of the bed, I knew I should take a week to properly heal, at least.

I didn't have a week. These guys wanted me dead.

"I don't care about the Dallas pack," I said, feeling overwhelming sadness hit me. "I told Carey to pretend I was dead, so the guys didn't come closer and try to take another shot. If I stopped moving and she kept screaming, they would leave. Collins showing up probably helped chase them off as well."

"Quick thinking." He sat next to me and took my hand. "But it terrified me. I was waiting in the theater. When I got out of the truck, I knew you two were going to talk, and I didn't want to interfere. She told me everything over the phone while I waited for you to get out of surgery. I saw you go down, then heard her scream, and I thought…" He brought my hand up to his lips and kissed it so gently. "I thought you were dead, and she had to watch you die."

"It's happened before," I whispered. "Last time, she screamed as I hit the pavement. Apparently, that time I flatlined and that fae and his wife brought me back. They were able to stop the bleeding, pull the silver out, and save my life."

"That fae…" He brushed my hair out of my face. "Have you ever gone looking for him to thank him?"

"I didn't look particularly hard, no," I answered. "Brin isn't the discussion, though."

"Brin?" Heath frowned. "Is that his name?"

I put a hand over his mouth. "Please, forget I said that. We have more important things to work on. I know I was shot, but we need to find these guys and put an end to their bullshit, so I can work with the BSA and resolve that situation. Hopefully, we'll figure out who the leak is." I dropped my hand. "Tell me what…Daniel said." I raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, we used to be on a first-name basis, just to bug each other. I started it, and he fired back. He explained his partner, Miller, while he was tailing me, was working on finding out if there was any movement among the extremist groups the United States is tracking. I haven't heard back yet, but hopefully, they find something."

"Miller used to be CIA. They don't know I know that. I heard one of them mention it outside of Kick Shot."

"What do you think is your next move? At this point, I'll back you up, no matter what. I'm not fond of watching you get shot."

"I'm going to work with those two," I said, rubbing my hands together as I thought about it. "I'll tell them everything. They helped me. I still think one of their superiors is the leak. Hell, maybe it's Miller, but if I'm working with them, I can keep a close eye on them. I'll keep Dirk with me—"

"Landon and I aren't going to let you do this alone, so go ahead and put us in your plans, please." Heath's face was unmoving and unreadable, but his scent told me how angry and scared he had been. He would fight to help me now, and I knew I needed the backup.

"I wasn't going to leave you out," I promised. "They shot me in front of Carey. What if they had hit her?"

"I've already thought about that," he growled. "They need a reminder that supernaturals don't care what they think. They'll die if they hurt one of ours."

"Just what I was thinking. Let's get me out of this damn hospital and back to Jacksonville. I don't know how good I'm going to be in a fight, but maybe…maybe I can be the bait."

"Stupid but effective. I hate it, but I don't really see us finding them another way unless someone gets back to us on who these humans might be." He shook his head. "I can't believe I'm actually agreeing with this."

"Yeah, it happens sometimes. If we find another way, I'm more than willing to go for it, just as long as I get to talk to these people before anyone else. I want to know exactly who told them about me from their own lips. Can you help me make sure that happens?"

"I'll make sure, even if I have to tie those agents down for you to interrogate."

"Thank you."

He grabbed his bag from the recliner and dropped it on the bed.

"A change of clothes. Keep the bandaging on, please. You still have a hole in you that's trying to close."

"Yeah, I know," I said, smiling. Opening his bag, I found a comfortable pair of sweats and a t-shirt, nothing that could pinch or squeeze where I had been hit. "I can't believe those guys took a shot at me with a rifle."

"They can't be professionals," Heath said, sighing as he shook his head. "Thugs who may have never killed someone before or just idiots that own rifles. This is Texas. There are a lot of hunters."

"They had…" I frowned, trying to think of the best way to describe the guns they used when they ran me off the road. "Assault rifles. Like you see in movies."

"You need an education on that, don't you?" He chuckled. "Selective-fire rifles. If you don't know the type they had, that's fine. That doesn't really narrow down what we're looking for. Everyone and their grandmother own a needlessly powerful gun in this country."

"Yeah, but I didn't take you as someone who would find that a bad thing." I raised an eyebrow.

"I come from the era of muskets and cannons. We couldn't fire nearly 950 rounds in a minute. It took up to thirty seconds for us to reload our single shot. I find it excessive, that's all. It's not the people I don't like but the weapons themselves." He shrugged. "I don't like nuclear weapons, either. Or tanks. Modern war is not my scope of practice, and I find the ability to kill thousands of people so quickly to be…cheap, almost inhumane, but you'll never catch me saying that in front of anyone else. No human wants to hear a werewolf call them inhumane."

"Well, that's all really interesting to know. Can we get out of here? I'm beginning to really hate hospitals. Sad, because I used to really want to work in them, but…waking up with a tube down my throat isn't a pleasant experience. Intubation, not fun."

"No, I bet it's not," he agreed. He walked with me to the door, carrying the bag he brought. He held the door open for me and let me walk out first.

I could smell Ranger before I saw him, turning to nod in his direction.

"We'll get out of your hair now," I said, smiling pleasantly. "Have a nice day, Ranger."

"No explanation why you were shot and brought here?" He stood and crossed his arms.

"Ask your Alpha. I'm sure he's heard something about me recently that might shed light on this situation."

Ranger shifted uncomfortably. "That's why I'm here. He hasn't heard anything."

Heath stood behind me, and I could smell him but not his emotions. With another werewolf around, he had locked down his emotional scent.

"Really?" Heath asked, and I could hear that confused frown. "They never brought him into the loop?"

Ranger crossed his arms. "I can't say anything about that."

"Then we won't say anything about this," I said, shrugging. "Hospitals are fair game, just like airports. I don't know if it's me or Heath pissing off your pack, but it has to stop. I don't want to have to tell anyone important that the Dallas pack is giving me problems for passing through or using amenities I don't have in my region. We're going to leave now, Ranger. Tell your Alpha I'm tired of this conversation. This is the last time I'm going to have it without getting anyone else involved."

I started heading for a nurse's desk, hoping one of them could start my check-out process. Heath followed me and stayed quiet. I had my check-out papers thirty minutes later and was able to convince everyone I didn't need a wheelchair.

"Let's get back home," I said softly, sitting down in not-Heath's truck. "Landon gave you his truck?"

"Yeah. Mine went to the cleaners." He sighed. "I'm sorry about him."

"Do you know what's going on with the pack?"

"I know the…testimonies I've been keeping from last year, but I don't follow werewolf politics as much since Russia. I was pretty much shut out after that incident when they realized you leaned on me for information to help save your family. Saving a human family isn't something they punish people for, obviously, but they didn't like us getting involved. Though they were happy we shut down the Russian pack."

"So, a slap on the wrist punishment for helping me by cutting you out of their little ring of intel."

"Pretty much," he confirmed. "Now, let's get back to what we were doing. Finding the people who tried to kill you is more pressing than the minor dramas I deal with from others of my species."

"For now," I said, coughing innocently.

He chuckled and shook his head.

"Don't bring that sort of bad luck on us," he ordered, starting the truck. "We've got enough problems."