Free Depending on the Doctor (Nevada Bounty Book 2) by Margaret Madigan Page B

serious killjoy.
    I took my hands off her and scooted my chair back. “Sorry. That was…”
    “…nice?” she asked.
    “Well, yes, but maybe too nice. We need to focus on getting out of here.”
    She looked hurt at my sudden change of heart. I didn’t want to cause her any pain, which was why there could be no more kissing. Kissing would definitely lead to one kind of hurt or another, because any way I turned it over in my head, there was no future for me and Lydia Templeton.
    She sat straight in her chair and put on her best prim face. “If we can’t kill them, what are we going to do?”
    I really didn’t know. I didn’t have enough experience to draw on for the situation. “How about we sleep on it and see what tomorrow brings?”
    She stood, taking my plate and stacking it with hers. “Let’s hope Ernie lives through the night, or tomorrow morning’s going to bring nothing but bad news.”

The next morning I woke stiff and sore from sleeping upright in the chair at the foot of Ernie’s bed.
    The moment I opened my eyes, I remembered Ernie, and shot out of my chair.
    “Emmett,” I said, shaking his shoulder.
    He grunted, and his eyes fluttered open, but didn’t quite focus.
    “Wake up,” I said. “Is Ernie still alive?”
    I could have checked, but I didn’t want to touch him. Blood made me squeamish at the best of times, but Emmett was the doctor, so I happily left it to him.
    “Oh shit,” he said, coming awake and bolting out of his seat.
    I stepped back and said a silent prayer—something I hadn’t done in years. God and I had come to a mutual understanding a while back; we didn’t expect much of each other, though I did still try to live by most of His rules, even if last night I had considered breaking one of the bigger ones. It was a good thing Emmett seemed to have lost interest, but that didn’t make it any less humiliating—both that I’d been ready to throw myself at him, and that he’d rejected me outright.
    “Well?” I asked.
    Emmett dug his fingers into the side of Ernie’s neck, searching for a pulse. He held his hand there for seconds, then a minute. I thought I’d jump out of my skin waiting for his answer.
    “He’s alive,” he said, the words spilling out on a relieved whoosh of air. “But only barely.”
    “So maybe his injury isn’t as bad as you thought?
    “Oh it’s bad, and it’ll kill him, it’s just not bad enough to be fast.”
    “Well then, thank you Ernie for hanging in there,” I said, smoothing my skirt and trying to calm my heartbeat. I’d had visions of Ernie being dead, and me and Emmett joining him in short order.
    “Amen to that,” Emmett mumbled, falling back into his chair and scrubbing his hand over his face. He looked exhausted.
    “I’m going to go make coffee,” I said, “and see what this morning has in store.”
    I stepped into the main room, as quietly as I could. The room wasn’t very large to begin with, but with six men sleeping squeezed into the empty spaces, it seemed even smaller. I didn’t see Clyde, so I had to assume he’d taken over the loft.
    With the coffee on, between the noise of making it and the smell of it brewing, the men started stirring. It wasn’t long before Clyde scrambled down the ladder and stood near the fireplace, stretching and yawning.
    “Ernie still alive?” he asked.
    “Yes, he is,” I said, daring him to complain.
    “Lucky for you,” he grumbled. “What’s for breakfast?”
    I usually found it calming to feed people, so I let myself sink into that pleasure, even though I didn’t like these people. I needed the calm to think.
    While I fried bacon, and potatoes and onions, the rest of the men woke up and started moving around. Lyle headed into the other room to check on Ernie. He came out looking relieved, but strained.
    “How’s Ernie doing?” Slim asked.
    “He don’t look so good, but he’s alive,” Lyle said.
    Lyle took a place at the table, and Clyde leaned over my shoulder.