Free Touch of Darkness by C. T. Adams, Cathy Clamp Page A

the only reason I let you go in ahead of me. I’ll let them know what happened. Consider it an apology for the arm. If our people had been where they were supposed to be, Janine would never have gotten close to you.” She sounded disgusted and angry. I’d have given odds that some of the Vegas wolves would be getting a serious dressing-down when the crisis was over. My nod of acknowledgment was met with a look of weary gratitude.
    I got in the ambulance without further fuss. In truth, it felt good to lay down. It must’ve shown, too, because Ruby sat in uncharacteristic silence next to the gurney in the back of the ambulance for the entire ride. The ambulance took me to the same hospital where Dusty had given birth. She was recovering nicely—probably would be given her walking papers today. Too bad. We could’ve shared a room.
    I spent very little time in the emergency room before being wheeled into X-ray. Just enough time to sign forms and give them my insurance information. From X-ray I was taken straight into surgery. Yeah, the wound was that bad. It made me nervous as hell, being put under anesthesia in a strange hospital, without either Tom or Joe to keep an eye on things. But there really wasn’t any choice. So I had to hope that the surgeons, doctors, and nurses assigned to me were not only skilled, but that they weren’t under the influence of the vampires—something that wouldn’t have been nearly as much of an issue if I hadn’t had to negotiate for Dusty’s safety just a couple days before. I didn’t think the Thrall would be as reasonable about me as for her.
    The last thing I saw before they wheeled me down the hall and the anesthetic took me under was Ruby, standing in the middle of the wide white hall. She was hugging herself with skinny little arms, with tears and mascara streaming down her face.
    HEY, NIFTY! I came out from the anesthesia. Hearing came back first. A calm female voice asked me the answer to a simple math problem. I got it right, and managed to open my eyes. They didn’t focus all that well at first. But eventually I saw that I was in a mid-sized room with dim lighting and all sorts of machines being monitored by a pair of nurses in colorful scrubs. The elder was middle-aged and gray haired, with an efficient if slightly macho manner. She slid a blood pressure cuff on my good arm, inflated it, and slid a cold stethoscope against my skin to listen.
    “One-twenty over eighty-five,” she announced. The second nurse wrote it down with a smile. Good numbers on the blood pressure and the ability to answer properly meant that I’d probably come out of the anesthesia in good shape. In fact, it earned me a smile and a trip down the hall to a semiprivate room. I slept. I’m not sure how long—but long enough that I woke to find Mary sitting up in the bed next to mine. She looked distinctly worse for wear in a gaudy souvenir tee-shirt and the kind of cheap shorts you can pick up on sale at your corner drugstore. The shorts made her legs look stocky. The kiwi green of the shirt looked awful with her coloring and emphasized the dark circles under her eyes. Her hair was even unkempt, unusual in a woman whom I knew to be almost obsessively tidy by nature.
    The curtain between the beds was open and the door closed, so we were able to talk without worrying about being interrupted or overheard.
    “Tom?”
    She nodded toward the door. “He’s been sitting by your bedside fretting ever since you arrived, but his grandparents wanted a few minutes with him. He’s talking to them in the hall. Figures you’d open your eyes while he’s out.” She shook her head. The gesture made her dark bangs fall into her eyes, and she brushed them back with an irritated gesture. “Actually, I’m glad we’ve got a minute. We need to talk.”
    She sounded grim. I reached for the controls to the bed and pushed the button. Whatever we were going to talk about, I’d feel better—less helpless—if I