Bleeding Edge: Elliot Security (Elliot Security Series Book 2) by Evie Mitchell (short story to read .txt) 📗

“But–”

“Emmie, I told you, you can stay with me,” Luc interjected.

No way in hell, buddy.

I let out a frustrated grunt. “No. One.” I held up a finger, ticking off the reasons. “You have work during the days. Two, I refuse to impose on you. Three, your house is under renovations, four–”

“You’re not–”

Dr. CJ interrupted our bickering. “Another option would be our respite care suites. They’re pricey, but have live in nurses, easy access to medical staff and facilities, and our gymnasium has an indoor pool to assist with your rehabilitation.” The doctor cleared his throat, looking at Luc. “It’s also a secure building.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think–”

“She’ll take it.”

“Luc!”

“Emmie.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking exhausted. “Work is covering all this. If you won’t stay with me, then that’s your only option.”

“I–”

“Just hush up and let Pax cover it. Without you, Jetta would be dead and he’d be living a half life.”

Ugh.

“Fine.” I crossed my arms over my chest, turning my nose up to the ceiling. “But don’t expect me to like it.”

He grinned, blue eyes dancing. “I would never dare presume.”

The doctor cleared his throat. “I’ll organise the paperwork.”

He exited, leaving Luc and I locked in a stare battle. He looked away first.

“Ha! I win.” I crowed, grinning.

“True. But I won the true battle.” He tapped my leg, settling into the seat beside my bed.

I narrowed my eyes on him, taking in his familiar shape.

“You’re a bully. You know that? You wrangle people into doing what you want.”

“I prefer the term conscientious objector.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”

“More compliments? Anyone would think you have a crush.” He grinned.

My heart squeezed, butterflies taking flight in my stomach.

“They obviously don’t know me then.” I held up a hand, tapping my chest. “This heart is dead.”

He rolled his eyes. “Puh-lease. You’re a big softie.” Luc reached across, running a thumb over my knuckles. “It’s why I like you.”

I looked down at our hands, feeling things I had no business feeling. I pushed down the emotions, ignoring the wistful regret for things I wanted but could never have.

“You should go.” I whispered, gaze still locked on our hands. His thumb paused, then started its slow path once again.

“Nah,” He drawled softly. “I’m good. Besides, I like the way you’re looking at me.”

I glanced up, blinking at him. “How I’m…? How am I looking at you?”

His lips quirked. “Like I’m full of awesome.”

My lips lifted in an answering smile. “Sometimes you are.”

“Only sometimes?” He shifted, lacing our fingers together.

“Don’t push your luck, Falco.”

He grinned. “Anyone ever told you, you’re adorable when riled?”

I rolled my eyes, desperately fighting a blush. “If you’re staying at least make yourself useful. Get me a cup of tea.”

“Your wish, as ever, is my command.” He rose, turning my hand over. He leaned down, bowing, pressing a kiss to the inside of my wrist. I watched, eyes wide.

He grinned, straightening. “Be right back.”

As he left the room, I cradled the wrist in my other hand, running my thumb across the spot his lips had been.

“You’re leaving.” I whispered. “You can’t do this.”

Regret remained.

Chapter Eight

Emmie

The dream always started the same.

A room with rows of desks, computers positioned just so. Children arranged by age, youngest at the front, eldest at the back. Girls on one side of the room, boys on the other.

I sat three rows from the back, the room silent bar the click of fingers on keyboards.

Sweat dripped down my spine as I hunched over, jabbing fingers against the keys. My eyes were dry, blurring. My stomach clenched with hunger, my tongue thick as I wished for water.

We had a choice. Complete the challenge or accept the punishment.

No one willingly chose the punishment.

The clock ticked on the wall. The little ones completing their tasks. The older students continued through the night, struggling to achieve our individual taskings.

I’d been told to investigate a local police officer. His financials, his history, anything I could find.

And then I was to create a destruction plan.

My fingers were silent on the keyboard. Around me, one-by-one the students completed their tasks until only me and the teacher remained.

“Punishment or nourishment?” She asked, glancing pointedly at the clock.

I looked down at the text cursor. It blinked menacingly on the screen.

No. The word danced on the tip of my tongue even as my stomach clenched and my throat begged for water. If I refused, I’d be whipped.

My fingers flexed over the keys.

A paddle slapped down on the desk. “Decide!”

I pressed a key. Then another. Letters formed words, words formed sentences and sentences formed the demise of a person.

I submitted the pages, waiting for approval.

The teacher scanned the document, pursing her lips.

“This is good work. You may go.”

I turned to the door.

“But fifteen lashes tomorrow.”

I spun back around. “What!”

“God’s work should not be questioned. Your hesitation brings shame to him.”

I bit my tongue, clenching fists together. “I understand, sister.” I forced the words out between clenched teeth.

The dream faded, leaving behind only the fear and guilt.

Chapter Nine

Emmie

Two weeks after being admitted, they cleared me to move to the private respite facility located about fifty yards from the hospital. The rooms were equipped with accessibility items like push-open drawers and cupboards, assistance bars, a seat in the shower, and emergency call buttons in every room.

It felt like living in a really nice nursing home. Judging by the average age of my neighbours… I didn’t want to know how much this cost.

“I want to go home.” My bottom lip stuck out in a full pout. I knew I was being petulant, but damn it, I wanted my bed and my things. Not a duffel bag filled with whatever item of clothing Addie or Kel or whoever my maid of the day had thought to pack.

“I know. But think of this as a really nice holiday. Like a health clinic.”

I laughed, tilting my head back to look up at Luc pushing my wheelchair. “Health clinic?”

“Would you have preferred something else?”

“Nursing home?”

“You know, nursing is