Ethan (The K9 Files Book 1)

Cinn woke up, lying on the backseat of a twin-cab truck driving at a steady pace. She listened to the conversation going on around her. She couldn’t be too badly hurt because nobody was crying over her. But her feet sure hurt.

As she struggled to sit up, Flynn, who was sitting beside her, put a hand on her good arm, telling her to lie back down. She smiled up at him. “Where’s Ethan?”

“He’s taking the dogs home. I’m sure he’ll be at the hospital soon.”

She winced at the term hospital. “My feet?”

“I suspect so,” Flynn said with a bright cheerful smile. “At least if that’s what you call them. Levi said they look like hamburger on sticks.”

She groaned. “Please tell me that they’re not that bad. I’ll be bedridden for weeks.”

“They’re that bad,” Levi said from the driver’s seat.

Soon the big hospital building rose up in front of them.

Levi parked in front, and Flynn got out. She struggled to sit up and made her way to the edge of the seat. She was not looking forward to getting down. As a matter of fact, just the thought sent waves of nausea to her stomach.

As she tried to stand, Levi arrived at Flynn’s side. “No, you don’t,” he said. “That’s what this is for.”

They had a wheelchair. Levi reached up, and she put her good arm around his neck. He scooped her off the seat and plunked her gently onto the chair. Then they did something to the footrests so her legs stuck out straight.

She said, “I don’t even know what they’ll do for them. They’re so dirty.” She looked down at herself. “I mean, I was buried in the dirt, so I guess all of me is a huge mess.”

“And for that reason alone,” a smiling nurse said, greeting them at the doorway, “we may just take you in the wheelchair into a special shower and see what we find underneath all that dirt.” The large portly woman smiled down at Cinn. “I hear you’ve had a rough morning.”

“Tough night and a rough morning,” Cinn said with a smile. “But this is a much better-looking afternoon.”

At that the woman laughed, got behind the wheelchair and pushed Cinn forward. “We’ll get some information from you, but we really won’t see anything until we get you cleaned up.”

“Are you serious about a shower?”

“Can you tell us if you’ve got any other injuries?”

“My head was bashed in.” Cinn thought about it and said, “I don’t know how bad they are, but there’s some scrapes and bruises. And, of course, a previously treated gunshot wound to my shoulder.”

“In that case, yes, just to be sure. You were kidnapped, and you’ve got a head injury. If the doctor okays it, I think we’ll get you cleaned up first, get those feet soaking, and we’ll see what else might need to be done.”

And that’s what they did. It took a good thirty-five minutes though before she was okayed, and the nurse took her into a completely different area of the hospital, pushed open a door to let her into a series of bathrooms with a large wheel-in shower. With the nurse’s help, she was undressed and, still in the wheelchair, put into the shower.

There, the nurse helped her shampoo until they could check the head wound. “I feel something running down my face,” Cinn said. “Please tell me it’s shampoo.” She felt so much better just being clean.

“No, it’s not,” the nurse said. “That’s blood from the head wound.”

“I was hoping it wasn’t that bad.”

“They tend to bleed a lot. A couple stitches should put that one to rights, but the cleaner we can get it and everything else, the better it’ll be. Otherwise we’ll have to cut away a bit of your hair there.”

Gently avoiding the head wound as much as she could, she scrubbed down, loving the water streaming down her body. As the nurse noted, several of Cinn’s ribs were pretty bruised, but nothing was as bad as her feet.

When she was all cleaned up, she sat with her feet out, letting the water run over them. “I don’t think this is getting the soles.”

“No,” the nurse said. “We’ll have to soak them in hot soapy water with antiseptic. Then the doctor can take care of your head.”

She was soon on a bed, wearing a hospital gown with a robe over it, sitting up with her feet in a big bucket of warm soapy water with antiseptic. The doctor sat on a stool, poking and prodding at her hairline. Needles went in for numbing, then sutures closed her scalp wound.

Finally the doctor said, “Now let me check the rest of you, see what has happened. The ribs don’t appear to be broken. You’re banged up. The shoulder wound, … well, it’s a little worse but will hold. We can get the feet back in good shape, so you’ll be just fine.”

She smiled up at him, the fatigue of the day hitting her hard. “Honestly, if I could sleep for a few hours, I think I’d feel a ton better.”

“And sleep is what you need. But those feet have to be cleaned up first.”

She nodded. “How bad do they look?”

He lifted one up and took a look and then sighed. “Let’s just say, you won’t like the next hour or so.”

She sat bolt upright and said, “Why not?”

“Because soaking has taken off a lot of the dirt, but rocks are embedded in the cuts, and we have to clean out lots of little bits and pieces. I’ll put some numbing gel on them, and I’ll give you a shot for the pain.”

By the time they were done, she was in agony. The tears had flowed, and she lay on her belly, her feet elevated. The nurse finally put a soothing ointment over Cinn’s soles. Just her touch made Cinn cry again.

The nurse finally said, “There, you’re done.”

Her muscles relaxed. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d been. She lifted her head and gave the nurse a watery smile. “Thank God for that.”

The nurse, obviously distressed at the pain she had put Cinn through, nodded. “It is one of the worst jobs I have to do. I’m so sorry.”

Cinn shook her head. “It’s not your fault. Thank you for cleaning them up.”

As the nurse cleaned up the mess from the medications and the bandaging, she said, “Now you just lie there and rest. Close your eyes. When you wake up, if you’re in pain, we’ll give you some more medication.”

On that note, the nurse walked out. Cinn lay here, wondering what had happened to Flynn and Levi. But then she didn’t care because sleep dragged her under, and honestly, it was the only place she wanted to go.

Ethan walked into the hospital and headed to the reception area. “Cinnamon Michelson was brought in this morning with damaged feet. If she’s still here, may I see her?”

The receptionist nodded. “She was brought in this morning. She’s still in emergency, I believe.”

Frowning, Ethan made his way over to emergency and was stopped by an orderly. He explained who he was and who he was looking for.

The orderly held up a hand and said, “Now, that little girl needs sleep. Let me go take a look.” He turned and peered through a curtain and studied what was probably Cinn on the bed, then he came back. “She’s still sleeping.”

Ethan nodded. “May I sit beside her then?”

The orderly looked at him and frowned. “Family?”

“No,” Ethan admitted. “But maybe soon.”

At that, the orderly chuckled. “In that case, you go right in, but don’t wake her. Understand?”

Ethan nodded and stepped behind the curtain. One chair was at Cinn’s bedside. He pulled it up closer and sat down but not before he took a solid look at her feet. He sucked in his breath at the lacerations and the bloody pulpy look to them. Cleaning the wounds had to have been the worst. Though they would heal, it would take time.

From his chair he reached out, sliding his fingers into hers. He sat here and waited for her to stir.

It was another ten to fifteen minutes before she lifted her eyelids and smiled. “Ethan. How’s Sentry? Bella?” she asked, worry tinting her voice. “And Bart? Sally?”

He leaned over, kissed her cheek and said, “Sentry is fine. So are the others. How are you?”

“I’ll be looking for a houseboy to keep me off my feet for the next week or two,” she said with a chuckle and winced. “Don’t think I’ll be doing any walking, much less running, anytime soon.”

“How’s the shoulder?”

“They checked it and said it was healing,” she said. “But I’m not sure the doctor wants to see me ever again.”

Just then the curtain was pulled back, and the doctor stepped into the room. “I’d love to see you again but without being shot or kidnapped, okay?” He checked her feet. “You can go home, but you can’t be alone. You’re not allowed to stand on these feet at all.”

She looked at him. “I have to go to the bathroom on my own.”

“No, you don’t,” he said. “We are talking a wheelchair and lots of padding around these feet. You’ll have to shift and shuffle your butt from one to the other. But no walking. You can stand for a short time, but you’ll find you don’t want to stand at all. If you have no one, we will see about home care visits.”

She sank back into the bed. “You know I live alone, right?”

“Not for the next week or two you don’t,” the doctor said. “I’ll write a prescription for the pain meds.” He disappeared through the curtain.

She groaned. “I wonder if I can get one of my girlfriends to move in.”

“Not an issue,” Ethan said. “I’m not a girlfriend, and hardly a houseboy, but maybe you’ll classify me as a boyfriend. I’m moving in and looking after you.”

She propped herself up on her good elbow. “You don’t have to do this because you feel guilty, you know?”

“How about I do this because I want to?” he said, leaning across and kissing her on the tip of her nose. “And I do feel guilty. I was supposed to look after you. And, well, I was dealing with one intruder, while the second guy came in and stole you away. Of course I feel guilty.”

She frowned.

He lifted a finger, placing it against her lips. “I’m not arguing with you about it. Bottom line is, you need care, and I can give you care.”

“I really don’t want to think about you carrying me to the bathroom,” she announced in dismay.

“You may not have a choice,” he said. “Would you rather it be a stranger?”

She wrinkled up her face and shook her head.

“Good, then no arguments. I’ll take care of the paperwork. Then we’ll get you moved back home again.”

“What about the dogs?”

He turned to look at her. “I was thinking about that. How do you feel about the five of us moving in?”

She laughed. “You know what the neighbors will say?”

“No, I don’t know what they’ll say, and I don’t care what they’ll say.” He folded his arms over his chest. “Do you?”

She thought about it for a moment and shook her head. “No, I don’t. But this isn’t an invitation to come into my bed. You know that, right?”

“That invitation has been there right from the beginning, whether you’re aware of it or not,” he said, leaving her gasping in surprise. “And, when you’re feeling better, I’ll take you up on it, though not for the next few days. Right now you need care, and I’m the one who’ll be there, ready to give you that care.” He turned and walked out. He had to because he was laughing so hard.

He stopped, pushed aside the curtain and saw her struggling to sit up. He leaned in, placed a gentle hand on either side of her head and kissed her. When he tried to pull back, he found he couldn’t. Instead he pulled her closer into his arms and deepened the kiss, letting her know with absolutely no doubt the direction they were headed. When he finally lifted his head and looked down at her face, he said, “See? Invitation all the way.”

He dropped a kiss on her nose, turned and walked out.