“I told you.” He gives me that Ryat smirk. “I’ll always find you.”
The door to the room opens, and Tyson enters once again with a bottle of scotch in his hand and pills in the other. “Take these.” He shoves them into Ryat’s hand and then opens the bottle before also handing that over. Then his hard blue eyes look at me. “I need that shirt off!”
Carefully, I cut down the front of it, making sure I don’t cut Ryat on accident. Once I’m done, Tyson rips it off the rest of the way and tosses it to the floor. “Stand in front of him. I’m going to need you to hold him in place.”
“What do you mean in place?” I rush out.
But he ignores me and climbs onto the bed and sits behind him. “Ryat, man, I gotta close this up.”
“I know,” he acknowledges before taking another gulp of the liquor.
Tyson opens up a briefcase of some sort, and my eyes widen when I see what’s in it. But I’m not sure why. I should have expected this kind of shit on my father’s private jet since he’s a Lord. I’m sure this situation happens often when they go on assignments. “I have a needle and thread, but that’ll take too long. My other option is staples—”
“Burn it,” Ryat growls, interrupting him. “Cauterizing will be the fastest way.”
“What?” I ask, that panic gripping my chest. “No. There has to be something …”
“Do you want him to bleed out?” Tyson snaps at me, and I swallow, shaking my head.
“Hey.” Ryat takes my shaking hands in his and pulls me into him, looking up at me. And all I can think about is those pain pills aren’t going to kick in fast enough. He’s going to feel this.
“Do we have any drugs?” I ask, licking my wet lips. We need what Ryat gave me when I ran. It knocked me out almost instantly. Tyson shakes his head without even looking up at me.
“It’ll be okay. I promise,” Ryat assures me when he sees the way my shoulders tense.
“Hand me the scotch,” Tyson demands, pointing at it on the small ledge next to the bed. I do as he says. “Put this in his mouth.” He hands me a washcloth.
Before I can do anything, Ryat snatches it from my hand and shoves it into his mouth, and then wraps his arms around my waist, while I stand between his parted legs. Letting out a shaky sigh, I wrap my arms around him, holding the side of his head to my chest.
Tyson takes a lighter and runs it along the blade of the knife, heating up the metal that he’s going to use to stop it. I blink, allowing the fresh tears to fall so I can see better.
Placing the handle of the knife between his teeth, he picks up the scotch and pours it over my husband’s back. Ryat tenses, and a muffled sound comes from his gagged mouth.
I whimper, and Tyson’s blue eyes glare up at me as if I’m making it worse.
I gently scratch Ryat’s head, holding him to me, and I know he can feel me shaking. Then Tyson heats the knife up once again before pressing it—blade flat—along the cut on my husband’s back, who tightens his hold on me.
The smell of burning flesh is enough to make me want to vomit. Then to know it’s my husband literally has me gagging. But I manage to keep it down.
Once done, Tyson drops the knife beside him before grabbing something from the briefcase and taping it up.
I look up at the ceiling, trying to stop the tears from falling before I have to look at Ryat in the eyes again. I don’t want him to see me upset.
“That’ll be good enough until we can get him to the hospital. I’ll let the pilot know we’re ready. Make sure he lays on his stomach.” And with that, he leaves us alone.
_______________
I EXIT THE bedroom, leaving the door open so I can hear if he needs me. I walk down the aisle and come up to the front where Tyson sits. Typing away on his cell, I sit across from him, thinking it would be awkward if I chose anywhere else since we’re the only two awake. “He’s asleep,” I inform him, and he nods but doesn’t look up at me.
“I didn’t watch you and Ryat in the basement.” He says out of the blue.
Frowning, I argue. “But you told Matt …”
“I gave Ryat the codes to shut off the security cameras. I knew you two spent some time in the basement that night when he turned them off along with the others inside the club.”
I let out a lone breath at his words. Ryat was right—he was a hundred percent on our side.
Another awkward silence falls over us, not really having anything to say to that. I feel stupid now that I believed him. But in my defense, it was very convincing. “I … thank you.” I hold out his pocketknife for him.