Chapter 58
I’ve woken up in fucking old lady luxury. Lee shifts in the bed, his gaze moving over ornate wallpaper, his mind trying to place where he is. How drunk he got to take home a senior citizen and end up in her bed. Moving his head slowly to the left, he comes face to face with an old bald man. He blinks, the man staring at him like dissection is planned. He tries to sit up and realizes that his hands won’t move, a hard jerk of wrist doing nothing but alerting him to the fact that his arms are sore, like he has struggled for hours.
“Who the fuck are you?” he snarls.
The man smiles, a patient gesture. “Let’s get your name first. Then I’ll tell you mine.”
“Lee.”
“Lee what?”
Lee frowns, not sure what he is getting at. “Lee Let-Me-The-Fuck-Up-Before-I-Kick-Your-Fucking-Ass.”
Baldy has the guts to laugh. “Oh, that Lee. Nice to meet you. I’m Dr. Finzlesk.”
“Am I under arrest?” Wouldn’t be the first time he’s woken up in a jail cell. Though most jail cells don’t have hardwood floors, twelve-foot ceilings, and framed art.
“No. I’d just like to ask you some questions.”
“How’d I get here?”
“Is that a question you often ask yourself?”
He stares at him. “Answer the fucking question.”
“You grew violent; you were sedated. We restrained you so that you wouldn’t hurt anyone else.”
“I hurt someone?”
“Not too badly.” The man smiles at a time when a smile seems off. Looking through his answer, Lee tries to figure it out. His head hurts. He closes his eyes.
“Whose house is this?”
“A woman named Jillian Sharp. Do you recognize that name?”
“No.” Sharp. “Is she related to Brant Sharp?”
“Yes.”
Yes. So helpful. Baldy’s bedside manner sucks. So he had hurt someone in the house of someone related to Brant Sharp. Maybe he’d finally snapped. Tracked down that rich fuck and kicked his ass. Fought for the woman he doesn’t really deserve the likes of.
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
Screw this asshole. Who ties someone down, wants to examine their head, and won’t provide any information of their own? He stares at the ceiling.
“Lee? What’s the last thing you remember?”
“Fuck you. Give me my phone call.”
It is the last thing he says. Hours come and go, Baldy sticks by his bedside, and Lee keeps his mouth closed. Ignores every question that comes. At some point, the windows dark, the hour unknown, the man stands with a sigh. Setting down the blank notepad, he opens his bag, removes an item, and approaches the bed.
Lee jerks at the hot prick of metal, turning a furious face to the doctor, his arms jerking, muscles pulling at the unforgiving restraints. “What was that, you fuck—”
BLACK.
