Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
He deserved it, but the wounds needed to coincide with the dog bites. If I added any more to them that didn’t fit, others might grow suspicious, and there was no way in hell I was implicating myself in this.
I wasn’t stooping down to that level.
I had really good intentions, too.
I was going to walk away. I was going to give the man over to my father, the police chief. I was going to go back to that hospital. Force myself to stay away from him until he was in the care of the Mooresville Jail System.
That all flew out the window when the man grinned at me.
“Was gonna enjoy taking your woman.”
My eyes dropped to the man on the floor.
He was laying on the floor, broken and bleeding, and yet he still had a fuckin’ mouth on him.
He was surrounded by six men who would like nothing better than to separate his face from his body, yet he still had the balls to say words that he knew would piss them off.
I smiled.
Then I kicked him in the face, ensuring he wouldn’t be talking any time soon.
Mainly because he had a broken jaw, and likely he would need reconstructive surgery to put it back together again.
“That’s enough,” my father said. “If you fuck him up anymore, I’ll have to do reports, and you know how much I hate paperwork.”
I walked off without another word, and went to the hospital where my woman waited.
***
“I don’t want him next to my woman,” I growled at the doctor. “I don’t care how critical he is. You either get him gone off this fuckin’ floor, or I’m taking my woman somewhere she’ll feel safe.”
“Sean,” my father started.
I turned and gave my father a look that he couldn’t misconstrue.
“No,” I seethed. “She’s not going to continue to feel scared. She deserves to be somewhere that’s going to give her that sense of calm she needs to heal.”
My father held up a hand. “What about moving him to the room I saw closest to the nurses’ station? That way he still has the medical attention he needs, but he’s not so close to her as to cause her any worry.” He hesitated. “You want the man healthy, don’t you, Son?”
Something about the way my father said that had me smiling.
“Of course, I want him healthy,” I said with a straight face. “That’ll be perfectly acceptable.”
“But, Sir,” the nurse in charge said. “That room is occupied…”
I turned my head so my eyes could take her in. She was definitely nervous, but I could tell she didn’t want the extra hassle of having to deal with this.
“Then un-occupy it,” I snapped.
Her mouth slammed shut.
I walked away and didn’t stop until I was outside of Naomi’s room where she was still asleep.
My father stopped next to me, and I crossed my arms and stared at her from the doorway.
She looked so tiny in that large hospital bed.
“After calling around on the labels and packaging surrounding him, it looks like he got some antibiotics from the feed store for his ‘goat,’” my dad said. “Injected himself, and then passed out from a fever.”
Dog and cat bites were notorious for that. Although it’d been only fourteen hours since Butterfinger had protected Naomi, it was enough for the bites she’d inflicted on him to become infected. There were different types of bacteria in a dog’s mouth that just didn’t work with the human body.
“He got enough penicillin in him to knock out a horse,” Jessie put in his two cents. “What the fuck would possess him to think that he knew that this was the right amount that he needed? The man weighs two hundred pounds, at most. There’s no fuckin’ way in the world that he should’ve ever gotten enough for a five-hundred-pound goat. And who the fuck thinks that a goat weighs five hundred pounds? That should’ve set off their radar right there.”
“I’ve done that before,” Fender interjected, breaking into the conversation. “I was having some problems with some…areas. So, I went to the store, told them I had a calf that was sickly. Got fucked up on some fence. Then shot that shit into my junk once I got home. I was out for like six hours as I tried to recover from the pain.”
We all looked at him like he was crazy.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I finally said. “What the fuck in the world would possess you to do something like that?”
Fender shrugged. “I was sixteen and wasn’t really sure that I wanted the hot nurse to know that I did something to my dick and thought it might fall off.”
“You’re lucky it didn’t fall off,” my father mumbled. “Jesus Christ, kid.”
Fender laughed. “I’m lucky a lot of stuff didn’t fall off. Never once did I worry about my dick like that again, though. If anything happens from now on, I’ll just whip it out and show it to Dr. Biker.”