Stockman’s Stormcloud (Stockmen #3)

Three

‘It’s a pulmonary contusion,’ explained the blond-haired doctor.

To Dex, the doctor could have been speaking a foreign language as he lay back on the hospital bed. But the drugs they’d given him were goooood.

‘What’s that mean, Doc?’ Charlie asked.

Dex was floating on air. He felt nothing as his eyes roamed the new room they had in the emergency section. It was smaller, filled with all sorts of gadgets. But they had a cat somewhere. And a cute nurse, too, who’d been walking that cat. Who did that? Walk a fat cat like a dog. A fat orange cat.

The doctor held up some black X-ray images as he explained to the room that was slowly spinning. ‘A pulmonary contusion is from a severe blow to the ribs, common in car accidents. But you said Dex wasn’t in a car accident?’

Bree shook her head. Damn, that woman was tough. Not once did she spill the beans to the doctor. Bare-knuckle fights were illegal, and so too were the hot goods being sold in the paddock’s car park where they held those fights. It was a cops’ smorgasbord of crime if they ever busted them.

‘I wasn’t in a car accident.’ No siree. But he’d had a big payday tonight.

‘But something kept hitting you in the ribs.’

That prick who’d dared to take on Dex, earlier tonight. Kudos to the kid who’d busted a few heads to earn his shot at fighting the champion, but he didn’t have what it takes to make a living out of this sport. A sport Dex couldn’t even brag about, especially to doctors, in a hospital that sat right next to the police station. He didn’t say a word, and he’d bet both Bree and Charlie were thinking the same thing.

‘It may not be immediately obvious,’ continued the doctor, ‘but it’s clearly a repeated pattern.’

So what? Dex was trained to read the repeated punching patterns in his opponents, except that prick tonight loved jabbing his ribs. Next time he saw that prick, he was going to dish it back as his own brand of medicine.

‘Do you mean this is something that has built up over time?’ Bree asked.

Oh, good question.

Yet it irked him when the doctor nodded.

‘Bruising can create scarring on the lungs that can lead to complications such as difficulty breathing, chest pain, and an impaired lung function, like Dex is suffering with now.’

Never in his life had it hurt to breathe. You breathed in, you breathed out. No brainer, right. You only thought about your breathing when training at the gym or running laps.

‘So, it’s not a broken rib?’ Bree asked. The woman was freakishly reading his muddled mind.

‘Dex does have a hairline fracture in the same area where the swelling is pressing against his lungs.’

‘I won the bet.’ Dex raised his hand. ‘Ow!’ Well, didn’t that bring him back to earth with a thudding jolt of pain. ‘Painkillers wore off. Can I get more?’

The doctor nodded at the cute nurse, the one with a cat. The catty nurse? The kitty-cat nurse? Nah, she was Nurse Kitty . His grin grew. Maybe the painkillers hadn’t worn off.

Bree squeezed his hand again. Well, look at that, Batman, Bree was holding his hand. He’d never in a million-gazillion-trillion years thought this was possible.

Wait, was it that bad for Bree to hold his hand?

Dex rubbed his eyes, desperate to focus on the conversation. ‘So how soon can I get out?’

‘That depends on how you go tonight,’ replied the doctor .

‘You’ll need a lot of drugs to keep Dex here if that’s your plan.’ Bree knew him so well.

‘I’m okay.’ Dex tried to move, but Bree pressed on his shoulder.

‘No. You’re not.’

He didn’t have the strength to fight her. Him, a prize-fighting champion, couldn’t win this bout, and collapsed back onto the bed. ‘You can be so bossy, Bree.’

‘Because she cares, mate. We both do.’ Charlie looked like he was talking to the dead.

Dex was not dead!

‘It’s just a bruised rib. So what? I’ve had one before and it healed itself.’ Dex wanted out. This wasn’t his funeral.

But Bree was on one side and now Nurse Kitty had come and joined the party.

Nurse Kitty was so pretty. Her delicate facial features were so fine that he wanted to reach out and follow her dainty jawline to her chin. Her fair hair was tucked into a simple ponytail, and she wore no make-up, just those jolly jelly-green medical scrubs with the word Nurse branded across the back.

Would he get into trouble if he asked to hold Nurse Kitty’s hand instead of Bree’s?

But Nurse Kitty’s lips were perfect. And really pretty. He licked his lips with a sudden urge to lean over and kiss Nurse Kitty, just to taste those lips.

But that was bad. And those drugs that Nurse Kitty had put into his IV line were not quite what he’d expected, feeling an icy rush feed into his vein.

But Nurse Kitty wore a fresh fragrance—it reminded him of Bree and Charlie’s flower garden—leaving a soft and inviting trail wherever she went as she worked around his bed.

His. Bed.

‘Hold up, I’m not staying.’

‘At this stage I’m keeping you in for the night,’ said the doctor .

‘Bree?’ He couldn’t believe he was looking to his partner in crime for help. ‘Don’t dump me here like you did with Charlie.’

‘That was for a good reason.’

‘The kid’s right,’ said Charlie. ‘Bree made me stay until she’d finished burying the dogs. Bad time, mate.’

This time Dex squeezed Bree’s hand. The woman had been through more than any bloke he knew. No wonder she was tough and kept on punching, just like he did. ‘I want to go home, Bree.’

‘You need to stay for observations.’ Bree was being nice to him, like really nice.

‘I’m not dying.’

‘No. But it’s serious, knucklehead.’

‘How serious? I don’t want the doctor’s mumbo jumbo. Give it to me straight. I’ll handle it.’

‘You’ve bruised your ribs.’

‘So what? They always are after a fight. It’s normal.’

Then the doctor with his blond hair got into his peripheral vision, pushing out his view of Nurse Kitty. Was he dating Nurse Kitty? He’d heard doctors and nurses were a thing.

Bree clicked her fingers in his face. ‘Focus for five, Dex.’

‘What?’ He scowled at the redhead, then at the blond doctor.

‘Doc says it’s an occupational hazard. Besides your cauliflower ears, cucumber, the years of abuse have scarred your ribs. And it’s the scarring, and the swelling you suffered from tonight, that is making it harder for you to breathe.’

‘No way.’ He tried to sit up, but Bree pushed him down again, as her words rattled around in his foggy brain.

Thanks to his ribs, it hurt to rake fingers through his hair, wearing an oxygen mask, and on good painkillers. Yet it still hurt to breathe. He just couldn’t get a lung full of air into him, and that light-headed feeling was annoying. ‘Am I going to, um…’ He couldn’t say it.

Bree shook her head, her green eyes firm and full of truth. And he respected her for that. ‘They’re keeping you here in case of any complications.’

‘What complications?’ He looked to Nurse Kitty, who was the only sunshine in this room of doom and gloom.

‘I don’t want you getting an infection,’ said the doctor. ‘And you’re at risk of your lungs spasming.’

Dex didn’t care about the doctor. He wanted Nurse Kitty’s opinion.

No, he didn’t. Normally he shied away from all things female, he didn’t trust them.

Okay, so he trusted one female, and leaned back into the pillow, preparing for Bree’s brand of brutal truth. ‘Bree?’

‘Scarring tissue on the lungs hinders your ability to breathe properly. It’s why you can’t take a deep breath.’

‘Aw flip.’

‘They’re badly bruised, Dex, and they don’t want your lungs to get infected with all sorts of nasties that will stop you from breathing or you could end up carrying an oxygen tank for the rest of your life. Which means…’

‘Don’t say it, Bree.’ He needed to fight. It’s all he had. It’s who he was. It’s how he made a living, as the outback’s bare-knuckle champion. Sure, it was an illegal sport. So what? He’d won more on the side bets, winning thousands per bout, all from betting on himself to win. Always. ‘I’m not ready to hang up my gloves.’

‘I know you’re not.’ This time, Bree squeezed his upper arm. Loud, brash Bree was being tender. And that scared him more. ‘But the hospital is equipped to help you breathe easier.’

His eyes widened at the tubes, the mask, and the cool compressed air that tasted like he was licking spoons. Yet, he struggled to breathe. The drugs were no longer helping, and it flipping hurt to take one simple teeny tiny inhalation of metallic-tasting air into his lungs that were filled with razor blades. ‘What are they doing?’ Why was he getting worse? Wasn’t the hospital meant to help him?

Alarms started pinging and ringing from the machines that stood around his head .

‘They’re going to knock you out for a bit to control your breathing and they want to put you on a machine, a ventilator, to help you, Dex. I swear it’ll help you.’

‘Bree? Don’t leave me?’ He gripped her hand. The foreign foul taste of fear was like cold metal creeping up the back of his throat. No, it was something else.

He scowled at Nurse Kitty, who’d put something different into his IV line. Sweet Nurse Kitty had betrayed him. It was another cruel lesson on why he could never trust a woman.

But everything got cloudy as his lungs struggled to work. He squeezed Bree’s hand tighter. ‘Promise you won’t leave me?’

‘I’ll be right here, Dex, I promise. Just breathe…’

And his world went black.