Free Mica (Rebel Wayfarers MC) by MariaLisa deMora Page A

lips turned down as she whimpered, “and I think that’s the sum of it…all the hurts. IV in my hand, a pinching pressure cuff, finger clip for something…” She slowly opened her eyes and shifted slightly, gasping softly at the pain. “Oh, oh, oh…it hurts.”
    She thought she’d heard someone a moment ago, but she could see that there was no one in the room with her now. That was a blessing, because she realized she had to pee badly. Plus, she was dressed only in a johnny gown, with the back gaping wide. She really needed to get up and find a bathroom, but no one needed that picture of her ass in their heads, so she was glad she was alone.
    As her mind slowly woke up and reengaged, she began remembering the fight in the alley and the men. Those men…so many men . She groaned as her breath quickened, her ribs aching. She remembered struggling...so hard, knowing there were too many of them. There was so little she could do against all of them. Having grown up in the rough-and-tumble world of ranches and rodeos had given her survival skills, some she never thought she’d need in the city, but even those skills couldn’t have been enough, or she wouldn’t be in a hospital now.
    Getting sucked into the memories, she heard the beeping beside the head of her bed as it picked up in pace. She remembered the hits and the pain, and the beeping increased in pace again as she saw a shadow edging into the door of her room. It resolved into a man she did not know, and panic started setting in. Squinting her eyes against the glare of the lights, she thought she remembered seeing him, but where? In the alley? Yes, the alley. He had been there. She remembered his eyes. He had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, and it felt like they could look through her.
    Mica went motionless and quiet in the bed, tensing to flee. His face and hands were bruised. Was he one of the attackers? Was he coming back to finish what they started? Looking at the people coming through the doorway behind him, she saw Mason and then Jess, and oh , her body relaxed. It was only then she noticed her shoulder and back hurt worse now from tensing up like that.
    “Jess…Mason, I’m so glad to see you. What happened? Well, I think I know what happened. I got mugged, right?” Mica asked the room at large, hoping someone would answer her.
    Mason cleared his throat. “Yeah, pretty much, babe. Mugging, fighting, surviving. Same shit, different day.” Looking closely at him, she saw he had a small cut above his eye and some dark bruising along his jaw. He had his hands down at his waist, and she could see the cuts and abrasions on his knuckles too. She wondered if all of that was because of her, or  from the other parts of his life they didn’t talk about.
    Holding out her hand to Mason, Mica nodded her head, clenching her eyes closed as a wave of pain hit her from moving. “What the heck?” she asked.
    Jess pushed past Mason and the other man to clasp Mica’s outstretched hand, saying in her ever-bubbly voice, “You, sweet pea, have a mild concussion. You have fourteen—count ‘em— fourteen stitches in your head. There’s your re-located shoulder—they said after it’s back in place it’s no longer dislocated, so it’s re -located. You have a fractured wrist, ten stitches total in your back, and a sprained ankle. You’re pretty fucked up, in other words.”
    The stranger with the blue eyes spoke up then, and oddly, his tone was one of admiration. “But your attackers didn’t fare very well, either. You broke one guy’s jaw, another guy’s nose, and tore a third guy’s ACL in his knee. Very nicely done.”
    She was a little confused at how pleased she felt at the tone of pride in his voice. “What the heck?” she softly asked again. Easing across the mattress, she shifted slightly, grimacing in pain. “I’m sorry. Who…who are you? I think I remember seeing you, but the whole day is really kind of fuzzy.”
    Jess clapped her hands,