Free The Guardian (Mended Souls Book 1) by Jacquie Biggar

green cargo pants.
    Scott scooted awkwardly backward on the floor, his heart jolting in disbelief. It was the cab driver who’d picked him up at the hospital. This was too freaking weird for words.
    “What the hell is going on?” He wiped a shaking hand across his mouth and wished he’d taken the kid up on a toke.
    A stain had widened on Lucas’ side. Scott inched closer, grabbing the discarded broom handle on his way. He lightly touched the stain and brought his fingers to his nose. The coppery scent of blood filled his nostrils.
    “Shit.” He glanced around wildly, searching for his phone. A glint caught his eye and he jumped to his feet, ignoring his own screaming muscles, and hurried to the edge of the bench. He used the broom to sweep the object out where he could grab it. It was his cell, thank God.
    He thumbed it open and was about to dial emergency when Lucas cried out, “No, don’t.”
    He sat up slowly, cradling his side. “I’m fine.”
    “You’re not fine. Even without the fact that you sprouted tail feathers and you’re supposed to be freakin dead,” Scott swore and exhaled a harsh breath. “Someone stabbed you, man. You need to get some help.”
    Lucas/cabbie guy grimaced, his cheeks now resembling rosy red apples. He gingerly tugged the material away from the wound and lifted his shirt for a better look, revealing an ugly red gash along the ribcage.
    “It’s not that bad, just a slice. It’ll heal.” He tugged the shirt over his head and plastered it against the cut.
    Scott wasn’t so sure. Even if the injury wasn’t as bad as he thought, that shirt was bound to invite infection. It was beyond strange hearing his best friend’s voice coming from the middle-aged man sitting on the ground. They made a great pair, both of them dinged up and a little worse for wear. Well, except for the fact that Lucas wasn’t real. This would make a great script. He snorted, imagining his agent’s face if he suggested such a crazy concept. They’d lock him up and throw away the key.
    He carefully lowered himself beside the other man, choking back a groan from the fresh bruises he sported thanks to Lucas’ earlier imitation of a linebacker.
    “Let me see.”
    Lucas glared but dropped the cloth. Scott turned on the phone’s flashlight and winced at the angry looking tear in the man’s skin.
    “Well, doc? Am I going to live?”
    “Really? That the best you can come up with?” Scott slapped the cloth back into place and smirked at Lucas’ pained groan.
    “You should work on your bedside manner,” Lucas grunted. “It sucks, dude.”
    Scott swallowed hard. That was such a Lucas thing to say.
    “It really is you, isn’t it?”
    “I’ve been telling you that.” Lucas shivered against the October chill.
    Scott dragged his coat off his good arm and passed it across. “Put this on before you catch your death.”
    Lucas croaked out a laugh and Scott grinned in return. It was bittersweet to have his buddy back again.

Chapter 12
    T racy spent a sleepless night and rose while dawn was still little more than a glimmer in the sky. She went through the motions of her yoga routine, a quick shower, and a cup of instant coffee, then strode briskly in the early morning chill to the bus stop. It would be good to get her car back. It’s not that she minded the bus, but preferred time to wake up before she was thrown into the hectic pace of the city. At least in her car she had a bubble between her and the next guy. On the bus there was no such luxury—as an overweight woman packing a suitcase for a purse and smelling like cheap perfume proved by taking up three-quarters of the seat beside her.
    She tugged her cell phone out of the pocket squished between them, ignoring the woman’s indignant huff, and called the veterinary hospital to check on Sugar-Bear. Sometime during their misadventure last night the name had popped into her head for the poor thing. He was lucky, his injuries could have been much worse.