“Hey, dickhead, you’re upsetting my girlfriend,” Ed said with a not-so-gentle shove to Ivanov’s shoulder. “Cut it out.”

Ivanov leveled a scowl at Ed. “I’m sure Angel has higher standards than a jackass like you. Besides, the girlfriend you already have might have an issue with this.”

Ed merely gave a snort. “Yeah, well you’re doing your angry-scary-grouchy face. You keep doing that you’re going to get unsightly wrinkles.”

Ivanov blinked and gave me a sharp look, then his expression softened, much to my surprise. “I didn’t mean to upset you. You’re going to be fine. And we’ll find those asshole punks who did this.”

“I’m cool,” I said as I fought to get my emotions under control and maintain something vaguely resembling dignity. “Sorry.”

Ed smacked Ivanov on the back of the head. “Yeah,’cause I’ll kick his ass if he doesn’t.”

Ivanov lifted a fist with a threatening snarl, and I sucked in a breath. His gaze flicked briefly to me, registering my shock, and he grinned and lowered his fist. “Sorry,” he said, and now I could see the laughter in his eyes. “Ed and I have known each other since we were kids. He thinks he can get away with battery on a police officer, and one of these days I’m gonna slap cuffs on his skinny ass.”

Ed merely smiled serenely. “And the next time you get a boo-boo in the line of duty, I’ll be sure to tell the ER folks that you’re too much of a man to need painkillers.”

The deputy snorted. “Speaking of, you need to stop dicking around and get her to the ER.”

“Get the hell out of my way, and I’ll do that,” Ed said with a glare at the deputy. Ivanov gave a low laugh, then gave me a wink as he stood and walked off. I stared after him for several seconds as I struggled to make sense of this side of the gruff deputy.

“He can be Mr. Grouchy Pants,” Ed said quietly, “but I think this time it was more worry than anything. We’ll get you checked out, and then everyone will be happier.”

“I’m not hurt that bad,” I insisted, even as I wondered if the deputy had really been worried about me. “All I need is a Band-Aid for my head.”

“You could be an extra in a slasher movie with all the blood you have on you,” Ed said, “but I’ll be damned if I can find any other cuts besides that one. You must have hit one hell of a bleeder.”

I gave what I hoped was a neutral shrug. “I feel all right. I really can’t afford to miss a bunch of work.”

“I don’t know if you’ll be kept out of work, but since you were driving the Coroner van, I’m sure you’re going to have to do a urinalysis—a piss test.” He shrugged.

“Oh.” Shit. It had been weeks since I’d smoked that pot with Randy, and it’d been over a week since I’d taken any pills, so surely I was clean now, right? “Oh, yeah. Okay.” God, I hoped so. “But I really don’t need to ride on the stretcher, okay?”

Ed gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “If you can walk, that’s fine.”

I made it into the ambulance without falling over, then proceeded to worry about the piss test the entire way to the hospital. Would the drugs show up? Or worse, would the fact that I was a . . . a zombie? I had a feeling I was being stupid, but at least it managed to distract me from all of the other stuff on my mind. Maybe someday I wouldn’t have anything to worry about. Wouldn’t that be a shock.

When we got to the ER, Ed hopped out then gave me a hand to help me down. I gave him my left without thinking, then had to bite back a yell of pain when he took hold of my arm to assist me. The crap on my arm had closed up all the way, but obviously it wasn’t totally healed.

“You gonna make it?” he asked, peering at my face with worry. “You just went pale. I can put you on the stretcher if you need it.”

I took a deep breath. “I’m cool. Sorry. Probably straightened too fast.” I pulled away from his grasp as gently as I could, trying to not be obnoxious about jerking my arm away or anything. I sure as shit didn’t want anyone to know about the arm thing. If they x-rayed it and saw that it was still kinda broken, I’d definitely be out of work for a while. I simply had to make it until I got home, and then I could down a Percocet or. . . .

I scowled to myself. No. No painkillers for me. None of that shit worked on me anymore. That sucked ass.

Brains instead. I sighed. Too fucking weird.

Ed somehow managed to cut through the usual procedures, and I was settled into an exam room within a few minutes. The nurse came in and I nearly flinched when I recognized her as the bitchy redhead from the last time I was here. I kept waiting for her to start in with the snide looks, but she merely took my vitals and left.

“Hate that fuckin’ bitch,” Ed muttered, and I had to stifle a bark of laughter. He gave me a sheepish grin. “Sorry. I got bit by a dog last year, and she was so nasty it was as if she thought I deserved to get bit.”

I wanted to respond, but the door opened and half the Coroner’s Office poured in. At least it seemed that way. In reality it was only Derrel and Allen Prejean, followed by—to my enormous shock—the coroner, Dr. Duplessis. But none of the men were small, and the already tiny room seemed suddenly overcrowded.

Ed gave my arm a squeeze—the unbroken one, thankfully. “Take care of yourself, Angel. And don’t take this the wrong way, but I’d rather not meet you like this again.”

I grinned. “I’m cool with that.”

He gave me a parting smile, then left me to fend off a barrage of questions from the three remaining men.

Chapter 12

Tags: Diana Rowland White Trash Zombie Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net