“Are you in pain?”
I took stock. Other than the throb in my skull, which pulsed like a strobe light, most of the rest of me felt okay. And oh yeah, that eye focusing thing was a problem. I belatedly realized that I was only seeing with one of them. The other was a mess. When I squinted at my dad, he turned into two Elliott Knoxes.
My own personal vision of hell.
“Your eye socket is fractured,” he said, his voice as even as if he were reporting the news. “You’re most likely experiencing some pain, light sensitivity, and double vision. That will be corrected with surgery in a few weeks once the swelling goes down and you’ve recovered from the cold you’ve contracted. I’ve contacted a personal friend who is coming in to consult on your case.”
A cold too? What the fuck? I hadn’t had one of those in ten years. Somehow that seemed like more of an affront than the busted eyeball.
I closed my now watering eye and lifted my arm with its lovely new accessory of an IV drip to clutch my head. “Where the fuck are the…” Maybe I’d just stick with the word fuck since it was the only one I seemed to remember without difficulty. “Pills?”
“I’ll call the nurse in a moment.”
Oh sure. Take your time. No worries here, I just have an eyeball sinking into my head.
Christ, I could actually feel where it had sunk into the socket. Disgusting.
My father crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair. “You also have a concussion. Moderate, I’m told. Once you manage to remain conscious for a few hours, you’ll be sent home.”
I grunted. Since I was a lame ass who couldn’t even stay awake, surely he couldn’t expect more.
“Considering the dangerous, life-threatening sport you’ve chosen to engage in, one might think you would’ve taken provisions to let your fighter friends or even your girlfriends—”
Girlfriends being synonymous with whores in his mind, though he wouldn’t speak such vulgarity.
“—know your family’s contact numbers so they could alert us if you got yourself killed. Instead your little ragamuffin had to find us on her own.”
I’d tuned him out somewhere around the word family—ha, what a joke—but he got my attention again with ragamuffin.
“Mia?” I croaked. That name flew from my brain to my lips with no disconnect. Even serious brain trauma couldn’t shake her loose.
He gave me a smile that wasn’t a smile at all. “She’s not your usual type, now is she?”
She was no one’s usual type. But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of trying and failing to speak again.
“She came in here yesterday and marched right up to your mother and demanded your status. I assumed she must be one of those floozies you consort with until Slater dragged her away. They were talking about some fight, and it wasn’t yours.”
Too much information. I sagged into the pillow. What was Slater doing with Mia? Where were they? Why had they left me alone with this asshole? But I didn’t say any of it.
“It took some doing, but I figured out this Mia person is a fighter too. And she intends to fight the man who took you down.” My father examined his manicure. “The company you keep concerns me, Trayherne. I do have to thank her for going to the trouble of contacting us—God knows you wouldn’t have bothered—but I think a clean break from these sorts of individuals is best. Now is the perfect time.”
None of this was making sense. I willed my brain to work. Mia. Slater.
She intends to fight the man who took you down.
“No.” I shot up in bed so fast that I jostled the IV line and nearly toppled it. My father caught the pole with an aggrieved huff of breath. “You have to stop her.”
“No, I do not. She’s not your concern. You need to get well.”
I’d stop her myself. I started to swing my legs out of bed, swiftly realized that was a very bad idea, and slumped to my side. “Just fucking get Slater.”
“I’m here, man.” Slater crossed the room toward me. I hadn’t noticed him before, which probably wasn’t shocking considering I was half blind. “Relax. Everything’s okay.” He coughed. “Mr. K’s just worried about you. Right, Mr. K?”
My father grumbled something that could’ve been an agreement or possibly a threat in Bulgarian.
“Maybe you should join Mrs. K in the coffee shop. Let her know Tray’s awake. And yanno, ease up on the suggestions Tray kick me out of his life when I love him like a goddamn brother.” Slater delivered the last with a bright smile that could’ve provided power to a small country.
“Until you break your ties with that illegal sport, you’re an unsavory influence on my impressionable son. If you decide to walk away, then it may be a different story.”