Killers - Blake Crouch [1]
Then again, she’d always had a soft spot for catheters.
She wiggled her bottom, and a burning flush crept up her tailbone.
Lucy glanced down at her right hand.
Thank God.
A morphine pump.
She squeezed the button.
The push was immediate.
Numbness shooting down into her veins, filling her head to toe.
Floating.
Both weightless and sinking at the same time…the mattress and pillows slowly swallowing her.
She felt relaxed and faintly itchy, and three words crossed her mind before she lost consciousness again.
Sweetest. Death. Ever.
The next time she regained consciousness, a doctor was standing bedside, studying a chart.
He was broad-shouldered and handsome in a boxy, unoriginal sort of way she’d never been attracted to.
Lots of right angles.
Bland good looks.
Quarterback handsome.
When he saw that she was awake, he lowered the chart and said, “Kurt Lanz, M.D. How you feeling?”
She had to swallow before she could answer.
“My peehole really hurts.”
“Want me to take a look?”
“Would you mind?”
Dr. Lanz lifted her hospital gown, and though that prevented Lucy from seeing what he was doing, she felt a slight tug around her urethra. He seemed to fiddle with it longer than needed.
The perv.
“Might be a bacterial infection from the catheter,” he said. “I’ll have a nurse replace it.”
“Thank you. Where am I?”
He dropped her gown. “Blessed Crucifixion Hospital in Durango, Colorado. You were airlifted here two nights ago.”
“What happened to me?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t remember?”
She shook her head.
Dr. Lanz glanced over his shoulder at the deputy outside the door.
“I think the Feds want to be the first to actually talk with you about the accident, but I can go over your injuries.”
Feds?
“Frankly, you’re lucky to be alive. You suffered a hairline fracture to the skull. Broken nose. You lost your two upper, front incisors. Sustained severe lacerations and abrasions to your back and legs.”
“How severe?”
“When you were dragged, the pavement essentially peeled away your skin over approximately eighteen percent of your body. You’ve already been through two surgeries that saved your legs, but you’re going to need extensive debridement and skins grafts. Right now, we have you on a regiment of negative pressure wound therapy. We can talk more about this tomorrow. I don’t want to overwhelm you.”
Lucy swallowed. I bet I look so pretty.
“Any broken bones, Doc?”
“Your coccyx took a savage beating.”
“My coccyx?”
“Your tailbone. It was—I don’t know exactly how to put this—ground down as you were dragged across the pavement.”
Lucy smiled. “You’re telling me I lost my ass?”
Lanz flashed a high-beam, soap-opera-star smile.
“About fifteen percent of it. But considering the car dragged you through a guardrail and down the side of a mountain, I can’t quite wrap my head around how you survived. You’re a lucky young woman.”
Lucy squeezed out a single tear that slid down her left cheek. She forced a sniffle. “I don’t feel so lucky right now.”
Lanz reached forward and touched her cuffed hand, running a finger across her thumb.
“You’re going to be okay.”
“How does my face look?”
She registered the arousal in his eyes, his pupils dilating—a small tell, but one she’d learned to read. If a guy was trying to fuck you, that lowered a lot of defenses.
“You’re still stunningly beautiful,” Lanz said. “Just don’t smile until we find you some new teeth.”
Lucy smiled with her lips together, made herself blush.
“Thanks, Doc.”
“Honey, what’s your name? You didn’t have any identification on you.”
“Lucy,” she said.
“Lucy what?”
“Just…Lucy.”
“You’re not wanting to tell me, or you don’t remember, or—”
“I don’t remember.”
“Hmm. Could be some retrograde amnesia. It’ll probably clear up. You didn’t sustain a traumatic brain injury. Is there any family I should call? Just to let them know you’re here?”
She shook her head. “No one who’d care.”
“Oh, I don’t see how that could possibly be true.” He winked at her and wiped the tear off her face. “There’s a man outside