Tough Luck (A-List Security 1)

“Don’t leave the area. We’ll be in touch if we need more information.” After he left, I managed to convince the nurse to free me from my IV, but I still didn’t have discharge papers when the curtain to my cubicle rustled yet again.

“Well, what the hell did you do to yourself, Chief?” Harley sauntered in.

“It’s a scratch. The stitches were overkill.” I waved my functional arm, which was a bad idea because it still pinched where the IV had been. “A SEAL medic would have had me back out there by now.”

“Uh-huh.” Harley didn’t sound like he was buying my bluster.

“What are you doing here?” I asked before he could spout off more questions about the injury. I was fine, or at least I would be as soon as I saw Danny. I was also dying for a shower and change of clothes, but first things first, I needed to lay eyes on Danny.

“I’m your ride.” Harley’s smile was far too easy for how damn shitty this day already was. “Danny called Duncan, who called me to come collect your ass.”

“Also overkill.”

“The kid seemed worried. Apparently, you’ve made quite the impression.” Harley’s craggy eyebrows made twin mountain peaks, speculation clear, but no way was I coming clean to Harley before I had the chance to talk to Duncan.

I settled for a vague noise. “Uh-huh.”

“Danny would be here himself, but he didn’t want to bring the media circus to the hospital.”

“How bad is it?” I asked as Harley reached for the remote for the TV on the wall in the corner of the cubicle. He clicked to a local newscast, and sure enough, there was Danny on the steps of the police station, lawyer yelling about no comment, then a cut to a press conference with the police and Detective McIntyre at the microphone.

“Don’t think you could ask for a better ad for your security services, although that roll maneuver was just showing off.” Harley laughed. I didn’t. I wanted the news to go back to Danny, wanted more assurance that he was all right, but Harley seemed more concerned with the marketing potential. “As long as the suspect doesn’t lawyer up and sue, Duncan will likely be pleased with the press.”

“He better not sue,” I growled. “Did they arrest his ass?”

“Yup. Key will be if they can make the charges stick, but Duncan said the DA’s office has already been in contact with Danny, so that’s something.”

“Yeah.”

“Discharge papers!” A nurse bustled in with a stack of papers for me, and finally, I was free to follow Harley out of the room. He was moving slower than usual, probably for my benefit, which I hated. Everything hurt though: my arm, all the places I’d hit on the steps going down, and whatever the hell I’d done to scrape my face.

“Where is Danny now?” Apparently, I was beyond the ability to keep playing it cool. I needed to see him, Harley’s curious look be damned.

“His place. Duncan’s with him. I take it that’s where you want to head? Duncan said to make you go rest at his condo, but I said good luck with that.”

“No way in hell could I sleep now.” I tried to sound more energetic. “And my clothes are there. I need something not bloody, stat.”

“Yup. About what I figured.” We made our way out of the hospital, navigating a big parking structure and more of the endless LA traffic before arriving at Danny’s.

As I’d expected, there was a definite media presence on his street, including some paparazzi bold enough to hang out by the gate, but Harley yelled at them to get out of the way. He punched in the code for the gate and then parked in front of the house, where Duncan greeted us in the courtyard. Danny trailed behind him, vibrating with even more energy than usual.

“Cash.” He flexed his arms like he was having to work to not run to me. I had a similar urge, but Duncan was in the way.

“Man. That’s a hell of a scratch.” Duncan’s tone was the same as Harley’s had been, more impressed than sympathetic, but his touch was kind as he clapped me on my non-injured arm.

“They went overboard on the gauze.” I glanced down at my wrapped arm, mindful of the wide-eyed horror on Danny’s face. “It’s not that bad.”

“Ha.” Duncan shook his head. “Thought I told Harley to send your ass to bed.”

“A nap? Before dinner?” I made a dismissive noise. “Who do you think I am?”

SEALs most decidedly did not nap, but Duncan merely shrugged. “You never know. Retirement could be making you soft.”

“Hardly.” My tone was dry as behind me Harley laughed, clearly enjoying this exchange more than he had a right to.

“Good work today.” Nodding at me, Duncan lightly duffed my shoulder. “I appreciate it. Hell of a job.”