Colt is hiding something. The fact that he is more than likely lying to me is written all over his face. I don’t care if it is simply because he is more worried about me than what he isn’t telling me. I can’t stand secrets.

Yes, I dodged a bullet. A four-thousand-pound one on four wheels, to be exact. That doesn’t make it okay to decide what parts of the truth I need to hear.

Unable to get comfortable, I shift my body, groaning when pain slices through my side and up my shoulder. This bed is about as soft as a porn star’s cock after downing a handful of Viagra. I couldn’t get any rest laying here if you gave me an epidural and a bottle of vodka.

Everything hurts in a way that has me torn between tears and heaving up a lung. I have worked in the medical field for years, though I never imagined I would ever endure this sort of pain and live. The ache radiates from the pores on my skin, to the deepest depths of my bones. Still, while the meds being pumped through my I.V. are strong enough to make my head spin like a top, along with removing the little brain to mouth filter I actually have, they do little more than take the edge off the pain.

Not that I’m complaining.

If I have learned anything in life, it’s to embrace the painful moments. After all, if it hurts it means I’m still alive.

“What’s wrong?”

“Donnie,” I groan, not even bothering to break eye contact with Colt to look at my brother. “If you don’t stop hovering, I’ll choke you out with my I.V. lines.”

“Deal with it,” he grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m your brother. Worryin’ about you is my job.”

“Feel free to clock out any time,” I croak, slipping my hand free from Colt’s. Turning, I meet my big brother’s worry-filled dark browns. “I’m all good. Even speeding chunks of metal and fiberglass can’t keep me down for long.”

“Funny.” As I expected, his mouth presses into a hard line, irritation written all over his face. “I think we both know you aren’t convincing me.”

“You know,” I mutter, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. “All that stress is gonna give you gray hair. Besides,” I shrug, trying to reassure him further. “You’re always bitching about how I need to take some time off work.”

“I don’t bitch.” Donnie runs a hand through his black hair, making me laugh. The vain prick will be checking that mop of his in the mirror first chance he gets. Pain slices through my side, causing me to suck in another breath. Pressing my good hand to my ribs again, I try to ease the burn while blinking back the tears threatening to fall. Noticing my discomfort, Donnie’s eyes shoot to mine, filling with worry.

“Easy,” Colt scolds, pressing his hand to mine.

“I’m fine,” I inform them both, breathing through the pain. “Don’t get your panties all twisted up your ass.”

“Panties?” Colt laughs, the sound warming me all over like a shot of tequila. He smiles, and even through that thick blonde mess of a beard, it makes my stomach flip. Dammit.

“I’ll get the nurse,” my brother says, heading for the door. “Perfect excuse to make sure that fucking cop finally got tired of waitin’ and left.”

“The police?” I ask, his comment cutting through the haze of sexiness that this bearded badass of a man seems to cause every time he gets too close. Which is every time I see him. “I haven’t talked to anyone yet, Donovan.”

Stopping mid-step, he turns slowly to face me, his eyes dark. “Exactly,” Donnie barks. “And you’re not going to.”

“I think we both know that doesn’t work.” Silently praying for some kind of Divine intervention, I roll my eyes. “Problems don’t go away just because you refuse to recognize they’re there.”

“Don’t start with me. You’ve been through enough.”

“That’s not your decision to make,” I blurt, preparing for what I know will be a steamrolling tirade.

“Goddammit, Henley.” Storming my way, he fumbles with some of the leads and wires attached to me before stepping around the chair he spent most of the night in. “For once, can you shut the fuck up and let me handle it?”

“I’ll tell you what I’m about to do.” Shifting in bed, I bite back the groan that threatens when my sore body revolts against me. “I’m two seconds away from climbing out of this bed and breaking my I.V. stand off in your ass.”

“Like hell you will,” he challenges, keeping his voice low. “So help me God, Henley Mae, if you think—”

Glaring at him, I narrow my eyes. “I think you’re fucking delusional.” I shift again, dragging in a breath as my battered ribs adjust to my jerky movements. “You don’t get to come in here and start spouting off orders like some drill Sargent and expect me to fall in line.” Henley Wolfe doesn’t fucking bend to the will of an egotistical asshole. Not anymore. “I’d like to be done with this shit so I can focus my energy on getting my ass home where I can ignore your ass, like I normally do,” I hiss, ready to rip his head off if he even thinks about telling me to shut up one more time.

“Dial it down, Hotness,” Colt blurts, pressing his hand to my chest to stop me from sitting up further. Sliding an arm under my knees, and one around my back, he carefully lifts and settles me back in bed. “Gonna need you to keep that fine ass right here.”

“No promises.”

Colt chuckles at my response, his breath rushing over my neck, making me shiver. My eyes flutter closed as the smell of his cologne, mixed with leather and something warm and rugged invades my senses. Damn. Is it wrong that I want to pull his big ass into this bed with me and use him as a pillow?

His warmth leaves me all too soon when he stands to his full height and faces my brother. “Henley’s right. She talks to the guy, he leaves. Last thing we need is that fucker takin’ residence up our asses.”

“Fine,” Donnie says through gritted teeth. “We’ll play this your way. Keep your ass in that goddamn bed. I’ll go lay down the rules for your friend with the badge.”

“Have it your way.” Waving him off, I carefully adjust the sling on my arm. “Go flex your big scary biker muscles, Torch,” I snort, rolling my eyes. “Have I told you that’s a stupid name?”

“Yeah,” he grunts. “More than once.”

“Good.” I smile smugly. “Should’ve called your ass Zippo the Dippo. At least then I could giggle about it.”

“Would you shut up?” Donnie murmurs under his breath, shooting me a dirty look before leaving the room.

Why he prefers to be called that, I will never understand. I sure as hell won’t pretend to either. Although, I assume if we are going to be known by name for our crimes, he could have done a hell of a lot worse than being infamous for his pyro skills.

I am also willing to bet he has done a lot more than toss a few lit matches in strategically flammable places. The thought makes me shudder. I know my brother isn’t perfect. Neither am I. The Wolfe DNA demands we be massively stubborn and only mildly crazy. Out of the four kids my mother raised, Donnie carries the bulk of those genes. That doesn’t mean I am okay with picturing him involved in illegal activity that could land him in prison for the rest of his life.

To be perfectly honest, the thought is terrifying.

Although it isn’t my job to judge, nor has he ever asked for my opinion. It’s not that I don’t have one. I have many. I simply prefer to keep my thoughts on Donovan the Dumbass to myself.

Most of the time…