Pound’s long strides were no match for Ariana’s flat-out sprint, as she passed him on the way into the emergency room entrance at Snoqualmie Valley Hospital. She rushed to the registrar, past the people waiting to check in and demanded, “I need to know where to find Vince Larson.”
The woman started to argue, likely ready to tell her to wait her turn, but something in Ariana’s eyes must have told the woman that this was serious and she wouldn’t take no for an answer. Typing swiftly, the woman told her, “Third floor, room 327. Take the elevator on the right!” she called, but Ariana was already running with Pound at her heels.
On the drive up, Ariana had called to check on her father, who had been beside himself with worry when he heard about the accident. He sounded much better, and that gave her a sense of relief. She couldn’t stand to be worried about both of her men right now. Pound had spoken to Cyril, who had shouted a great many things she couldn’t understand; but, she knew he was angry from the sound of his voice.
When he’d hung up, he told Ariana in a gruff tone, “Cyril says the state patrol just called a few minutes ago with information about bullets in the ditch where Vince was found. They’re running ballistics and, based on something that Vince mumbled to the EMTs on the scene, as well as a witness statement, they’re having people sent to the Demons’ camp and checking out all their guns.”
Ariana had glared at Pound. “You tell me right now, big guy, if this was a purposeful hit or a random act. And you tell me why it happened. Not details, just the reason that these Demons would be coming after Vince again.”
“Well, I’m sure they still believe that Vince shot their man. Besides that, we sort of broke into their territory without warning, and they’re a little sore about it. Vince tried to make it right, but Cyril got all puffed up and ruined the whole deal. Let’s just say we’re still trying to work things out, and it looks like someone on the other side didn’t have faith we’d make it all good.” Pound’s eyes were clouded with worry, grief, and guilt, and Ariana backed off.
Now, as they ran side by side down the hall toward Room 327, Ariana was too concerned about Vince to even pay the big man a whole lot of attention. She burst into the room and sucked in a breath. Vince looked like he’d been to hell and back and had fought every demon and batted off every tortured soul going both ways.
His right leg was casted all the way to mid-thigh, and above that, he was heavily bandaged from his hip to just inches below his armpit. His right arm didn’t look too worse for the wear, mostly bruised but not torn up with road burn. His face was bruised, as well. There was a bandage wrapped around his head, which had been shaved, and there was a large spot of blood on the right side of it.
Not waiting to talk to a doctor, she grabbed his chart from the door and scanned it, muttering aloud for Pound’s benefit. “Compound fractures of the tibia and fibula, dislocated kneecap, severe skin damage from road burn, two fractured ribs, multiple contusions on his right arm but no breaks, the shoulder dislocated, another concussion, and a severe contusion to his right temple. He was also going into hypothermia when he came in, and he was unconscious until around 9:30 this morning.”
She shook her head. It could have been worse; she didn’t see anything about internal bleeding, but as Vince’s eyelids blinked apart, Ariana felt his pain, radiating from the glassy orbs beneath. He forced a smile that looked agonizing and quipped in a hoarse voice, “Wow, I don’t know if I’m in heaven or hell. There’s an angel in front of me, but her shadow looks like the devil himself.”
“Stop joking, asshole,” Pound grumped behind Ariana, obviously not finding any more humor in the situation than she did. “What the hell happened?”
“I don’t want to repeat myself again. I just got through giving a statement to the police. Right now, I want a kiss from the angel to show me I’m in a good place and not headed down below.”
Gently, Ariana touched his cheeks, placing a soft, chaste kiss on his lips but filling it with all her pent up fears and worry. Softly, she told him, “Do what the big guy says. Stop farting around and give me the rundown.”
His smile faded, and he winced, his whole body tensing. “These damn people don’t give you enough pain meds. This shit wears off every five minutes, and my leg feels like someone’s shoved an elephant inside it and the damn animal’s throwing a fit and trying to break its way out.” Locking eyes with Ariana for the first time since she’d come into the room, he told her in a low raspy voice, “It was starting to rain, and I couldn’t catch up with the rest of the crew. I was about to do what you asked and stop somewhere for the night, send Pound here a text; but, there was a honk, and I turned around to look. I couldn’t tell the difference between the flash of lightning and the flash of the gunshot, but it hit my back tire, and I went skidding.
“The bike was on my leg, and there was another shot…” He trailed off, looking haunted. “I couldn’t call you, Ariana, and I’m sorry.”
She threw her arms around him. “I’m not angry, Vince. I’m just glad you’re here, and for the most part, alright.”