The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (i love reading txt) 📗

Errol gives you a bonus. He’s not going to have to defend any wrongful death claims because of you.”

Someone other than me will have to tell him that.

* * *

Hospitals are not my favorite places. In the weeks since my injury, I’ve had more than enough of them.

Still, I’m happier to be walking into a hospital than a morgue.

Pressed warm and soft against my side, Emily shifts the big bouquet of sunflowers she’s brought for Rick to her other hand and slides her free arm around my waist to give me a squeeze. Since she spent nearly as much time in hospitals as I have recently, she probably has the same feelings going through the big sliding doors that I do.

“Okay, little love?” I ask.

“Yes, Daddy.” She tips her head back against my shoulder as she looks up at me. “However Rick behaves, just remember, Master Theo says you saved his life.”

“Thank you for the reminder, sweetheart.”

It’s nice to hear, particularly since I doubt Rick feels the same way. He kicked Manny out of his hospital room as soon as he woke up this morning. He hasn’t responded to my text messages. I’m not sure what I’m going to say to him, or what he’s going to say to me, but I don’t think our friendship will survive last night.

Rick’s in a private room, which doesn’t surprise me. Through the window in his door, I see an older redhead in a sundress sitting in the guest chair by his bed, flipping through a magazine. I recognize her from some pictures at Rick’s place: Tina, Rick’s sister.

She answers the door when I knock and smiles at me. “Come in. Thanks so much for coming to see him.” She holds out her hands for the flowers Emily’s brought. “I’ll find something to put those in.”

She holds the door open for us and shuts it behind her as she leaves.

Rick, sitting up in the hospital bed and flipping through the channels on the wall-mounted TV, throws the remote onto the bedspread and crosses his arms over his chest.

“I told Manny to leave. What makes you think I’d want to see you?” he asks.

I steer Emily to the chair Tina’s vacated and stand behind her, resting my hands on her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

“Do I fucking look okay?”

He doesn’t. His whole face is puffy around two black eyes. There’s a metal ridge taped over his nose. He’s hooked up to a ton of machines and there are several IV bags hanging over his head.

“What are the doctors saying?”

“They’re saying you broke my fucking nose.”

“About the ketamine, Rick.” I try to keep my voice gentle, but I’m probably not doing a very good job, because he’s beginning to work my last nerve. I wasn’t the one who threw the first punch, and I wasn’t the one who came back for more.

Rick looks out his window. “They’re saying it might have fucked up my heart. Arrhythmia or something.” He cocks his thumb at one of the machines. “That’s keeping my heart beating regularly.”

My gut sinks; I actually feel sorry for the fucker. I remember all too well the feeling of being given a potentially life-changing diagnosis.

“What are they saying about recovery?” I ask.

He shrugs and keeps staring out the window. “Too soon to tell.”

“Rick—”

He swings his swollen face back to me. “Spare me the platitudes. It’ll be okay, right? I’ll get better, just give it time. Well, maybe I don’t have fucking time. Daisy wouldn’t wait a couple of weeks for the internet shit to die down. If I can’t get it up because my heart’s fucked, how long do you think people are going to wait, huh? You think anyone’s going to want to watch me fuck dragging around a heart machine? You think anyone’ll cast me if I have to get a fucking pacemaker?”

I don’t have any kind of answer for him.

Rick shakes his head, his lip curling. “This is all on you, man. She was right under your fucking nose the whole time and you didn’t catch her.”

“What?” Emily hisses. I squeeze her shoulders.

“Rick, I understand you’re angry and you’re looking for someone to blame—”

“I don’t need to look,” he snarls. “You’re right here in my face like you’re my fucking best friend. You’re not, Logan. You’re the fucking help and you. Are. Fucking. Fired.”

I’m not going to argue with him or tell him that I wouldn’t work for him again anyway. Now’s not the time. “Understood,” I say simply.

“Bunch of fucking leeches,” Rick snaps. “All of you with your hands in my pockets. You don’t give a fuck about me. None of you.”

I feel the flush of anger tighten my muscles. “Sure, Rick. That’s why I stood by you even when I thought you might have raped Laurel. Because I don’t give a fuck about you.”

Rick works his lips against his teeth for a moment, glowering at me. “Don’t lie to me, man. Don’t try to pretend you’re my friend. That’s not going to get you out of the shitstorm that’s coming. Every one of those people at the party who drank the punch, when they start pointing fingers at me? I’m going to point them straight at you. They’re going to sue you for every fucking penny you have.”

I shake my head at him. He’s angry and hurting and scared. He’s not thinking clearly.

Tina returns as Rick and I are scowling at each other. Emily immediately vacates the chair and Tina sets the flowers, in a plastic beaker, down on the bedside table.

“Get out,” Rick snarls over the rising beeping of the machines behind him. He grabs the flowers out of the beaker and throws them at Emily. “And take those fucking flowers with you, bitch.”

I shift her out of the line of fire and let the flowers splat wetly against my chest before they bounce to the floor.

I turn back to Rick with a growl.

Emily stops me with her soft palm on my cheek. She stoops, collects the