Nick pushed her hands away from his face. “I’m fine,” he said in a voice that told her he still wasn’t drawing full, deep breaths.
“You’re about a million miles from fine.” She purposely echoed words from earlier in the day. His pale green eyes cut to hers and she arched an eyebrow. “Honesty, remember?” When her point registered in his gaze, she let it go. “Take your shirt off.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to examine you. Your breathing’s shallow and you’re protecting your side.”
His face went a shade paler as he removed the cotton over his head, and she didn’t miss for a moment that he performed most of the action with his right hand, his left still shielding whatever was hurting him.
“Turn,” she said, gesturing for him to swing his knees around so his left side was in front of her. “Can you hold your arm out of the way, please?”
The puppy whined and paced at Becca’s feet.
“Go lay down, baby. Go on,” she said. The dog curled up a short distance away, her eyes locked on them. Becca’s gaze scanned over Nick’s ribs and lats, down to where a mass of scars disappeared under his waistband. Her hands gently followed. “Tell me where it hurts.” Man, you could’ve heard a pin drop as quiet as the room had gotten. And, good. ’Cause if one of them uttered a single smart-ass comment, she was likely to lose her shit. Sparing about four seconds, she took a moment to glare at his so-called teammates, all collected around the far end of the bar watching her. Shane and Edward’s expressions were somber and serious, and Beckett’s head was hanging on his shoulders. “Somebody get some ice for Beckett’s knuckles.”
The big guy’s head whipped up, and he studied her as Shane made for the fridge.
Softening her touch, Becca palpitated the edge of the scar tissue. Nick sucked in a breath through his nose, and his muscles flinched and clenched.
“What happened here?”
“Gunshot wounds times two, one penetrating, one not. Fractured pelvis and perforated bowel that healed. Lingering nerve damage,” he said as if by rote. And she guessed it was. “It’ll be okay.”
She nodded, swallowing down the heartache and stream of comments that might embarrass him in front of his guys. You don’t look okay. You can’t even take a deep breath. I’m so sorry you got hurt. And, geez, not just hurt. That litany of injuries would’ve required multiple surgeries, a lot of pain, and a difficult rehabilitation. “Just gonna clean up your face.” At the sink, she scrubbed her hands thoroughly.
Shane found a plastic bag, filled it with ice, and tossed it to Beckett, who caught it in the hand that hadn’t had a head-on collision with a steel box.
The older man returned with a white metal kit in hand. “Found it,” he said.
Drying her hands, she gestured to the bar. Miguel set it down and opened it for her. “Thanks,” she said. “Are you Miguel?” Average height, he was a bit full in the middle, with graying dark hair and warm-toned skin.
“Yeah. I’m sure sorry about this whole situation, Becca,” he said, a kindness about him that drew her in.
If Nick trusted the man, so did she. “Me, too. But I appreciate that you helped Nick today.”
Unexpectedly, Shane stepped up and laid out everything she’d need—gauze, alcohol wipes, and a few packages of Steri-Strips. He opened a package of gloves for her and held it out. “Thanks,” she said, donning the gloves and appreciating that his actions allowed her to keep her hands sterile. Way he was looking between the supplies and Nick’s blood, it was like he wanted to help.
As she got to work, the weight of everyone’s observation pressed in on her, but she couldn’t think of them right now, or how badly she wanted to take a few heads off—Beckett’s, because he’d hurt Nick, and the others’, because they hadn’t done anything to intervene. Which was just as bad in her book.
In front of Nick again, she held his handsome, tired face with one hand while she cleaned it with the other. His gaze lit on her face, and she knew he was watching her work, but she kept her eyes on the task at hand.
She hadn’t really expected to say the words when they started coming out, but once they began, she felt their rightness down deep. “Nick asked you guys here as a favor to me. He apparently did so knowing some sort of tension existed between you. Had I known this would be the cost to him, I would’ve insisted he tell you not to come.” She opened the alcohol wipes and slipped them from their sleeves. “Gonna sting.” Her gaze flickered to his eyes, which bored into hers with blazing intensity.