If The Seas Catch Fire(127)

He leaned on his elbows and, blood be damned, raked both hands through his hair. He’d never liked having authority over life and death. Not when it meant being able to decide whether to kill someone. Right now, though, he’d have given anything to be able to keep Sergei alive. For the power that came with the pull of a trigger, only in reverse. Why the f*ck was it so easy to break bones and tear flesh, but mending it all was like bringing ashes back to life?

He was powerless now. All he could do was pray.

And hope someone was up there listening.

And wait.





Chapter 37


The light hurt. His eyes weren’t even open yet, and the light already hurt like a motherf*cker.

He slowly pulled in a breath through his nose. The smell—solvents, alcohol, latex—brought to mind the place where Mama had died, but before that memory could settle in, pain tore through his chest, starting dead center and ripping toward his sides. He held his breath, eyes stinging. His right eye didn’t quite want to focus. It could focus, but the strain made his head hurt more, so he closed both eyes.

Breathing was a pain in the ass. An annoying tube rested on his upper lip and blew cold air up his nose. Something was wrapped tightly around his midsection, which kept him from inhaling deeply. Had they put a f*cking corset on him or something? And even without the damned thing, the pain kept his chest from moving much. His ribs hurt. His neck hurt. Some places throbbed. Others were sharp and stabby.

An IV was attached to his right arm. Every time he moved or even thought about moving, the damned thing hurt. Fuck that shit. He had every intention of reaching over and tearing it out, but his body had other plans. The simple act of lifting his other arm was far too much work, and it sent fresh pain tearing down his side and across his chest.

A tall doctor in glasses came strolling in. “Ah, you’re awake.”

“You don’t say.” Sergei’s voice was raspy, barely more than a whisper. “Where’s Dom?”

The doctor arched an eyebrow.

Sergei’s heart sank. “Is he—”

“Visiting hours are this afternoon.” The doctor glanced over Sergei’s chart. “In the meantime, I’m Dr. Walters. How are you feeling?”

Sergei eyed him, but relaxed when he realized that glaring was painful. “Do you really need to ask?”

“I do, actually.” The doctor lowered his clipboard. “Any numbness or tingling?”

“Not nearly enough.”

The doctor scowled.

Sergei sighed. “No. Everything hurts like hell. Happy?”

That earned him a subtle but obviously annoyed sigh. As Dr. Walters scrawled something into what was must’ve been Sergei’s chart, he said, “You’re a lucky man, Mr. Sullivan.”

Sergei nearly corrected him, but bit his tongue. It was entirely possible someone had fed him a fake name, so he’d go with it until he had a reason not to. And distantly, he remembered giving that name as an alias once. To Dom. For a motel. Maybe that meant…

He shifted a bit, wincing. “So I’m lucky? Did I win the lottery while I was out, or what?”

The doctor actually laughed. “Well, if I were you, I’d go buy a lottery ticket. The emergency team barely had time to crack your chest before the sack around your heart filled up with blood. If you hadn’t gone into surgery when you did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Sergei suppressed a shudder. “So when do I get the f*ck out of here?”

The doctor scowled again. “You feel like going for a jog?”

The very thought of moving nearly made Sergei choke.

“That’s what I thought.” Dr. Walters put the chart beneath the foot rail. “You’re going to be staying with us a bit longer, Mr. Sullivan. At least until I’m confident you’re on the mend.”

“What about that lottery ticket I’m supposed to buy?”

“You may need to send someone to buy it on your behalf.” He looked at his watch. “Visiting hours start soon, so maybe you’ll have a visitor.”

Maybe?

“Get some rest,” the doctor said. “I’ll be by this afternoon to see how you’re doing.”

He left. Nurses came and went. One brought him food. Another came to f*ck around with his IV. The first returned, and he had to give her credit—she didn’t bat an eye at the cursing he growled out in multiple languages while she fussed with his catheter. It was a good ten minutes before he stopped sweating after that, though it was hard to tell if it was the fact that his dick hurt or how much squirming and fidgeting had reignited the pain in his chest.

The door opened again. Jesus f*ck. Now who wanted to—

“Well, well.” Dom’s voice sent a rush of warmth through him. “Somebody’s finally awake.”

Sergei’s lips parted. In his mind, he was sitting up, maybe even sucking in a startled breath, but a few hours in this reality had trained his body to keep those reactions to himself.

“How are you feeling?” Dom asked.

“Like shit.”

“Makes sense.” Dom smirked. “You look the part.”

“Fuck you.”

Dom chuckled, but then he leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to his lips and another to his forehead. “You scared the hell out of me,” he whispered against Sergei’s hairline. “I thought I’d lost you.”