the cold temperatures freezing the liquid seeping from the perfectly round wound in his head.
Was someone injured? Reid had arrived after the fire trucks and missed the gun play, but Boris … Boris had lumbered right out into the open. Surely he would have said something if hit? Boris, admit something? As if.
She slid out from under his arm and pivoted to check him over. She immediately saw his bloody thigh. His freshly bleeding thigh.
H er gaze rose to meet his nonchalant one. She arched a brow. “You’re hit.”
Her lips thinned. “And yet, you’re standing around here yapping instead of getting it treated.”
“I tried to get him to see a medic,” Reid said.
“You didn’t try hard enough,” she snapped to her boss.
“He’s a grown man. I figured it was his choice.”
“He’s an idiot.”
“Who’s standing right here ,” Boris grumbled.
“ Which is even more idiotic. That bullet is still in there. Exactly how do you expect to heal properly if we don’t get it out? Not to mention the fact the longer it stays in, the more damage we’ll have to inflict pulling it out.” Because shifters healed rapidly, which meant they’d have to reopen the wound to remove the bullet.
His expression turned sheepish. “ I was going to take care of it once I knew the gunman was caught.”
“He’s dead , and you will be too if you don’t march your butt over to the clinic and get that fixed right now, Boris Sobolev.”
Chagrin turned to stubborn mutiny. “You can’t tell me what to do.”
Challenge her, would he? She straightened her spine and met his gaze without backing down.
“Um, Boris,” Reid tried to interject in a low voice. “You might want to— ”
Jan cut Reid off with a glare. Her boss might be alpha of the clan and a big freaking bear, but even he knew better than to come between a vixen and her mate. Almost mate, but close enough. Now that they’d become intimate, whether he was ready to accept it or not, Boris was hers. And as her male, he would take care of himself or face her wrath.
“Are you seriously going to argue with me about going to see the doctor?” she asked in a sweet voice, because Momma always taught her you catch more flies with honey. Or was it trapped more bears? In her case, she needed to net a moose. Where was the family shotgun when a vixen needed it?
“ I’ll go see him when I’m damned well ready. I’ve got stuff to do and…” His words tapered off, probably because of the handgun she held aimed at him. “What the hell, woman?”
Her momma also said men were idiots and often prone to doing moronic things because of testosterone, which meant it was up to women to take care of them when stupidity overtook their brains. “Get your sweet buttocks moving, or so help me, Boris, I will put a hole in your other leg and drag you there myself.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Reid cleared his throat. “Um, I wouldn’t challenge her on this. She once shot Johnny in the ass with buckshot when his mom ended up in the clinic and he wouldn’t go to visit her.”
“You did not.”
“I did.” Jan shrugged. “His poor sick mother was so happy to see him, even if he was flat on his belly getting pellets plucked out of his cheeks.”
“ But I can’t leave now. Reid needs me.”
With a shake of his head, Reid distanced himself from the brewing battle. “Oh no you don’t. You are not using me to get out of this one, dude. I might rule this clan, but I swear, Jan’s taken lessons from my Aunt Betty-Sue.”
The two males shuddered. Betty -Sue was known for keeping boys in line, a trait Jan’s own mother much admired, hence the tips she’d gleaned from her friend and imparted on Jan, her daughter.
T he threat had the desired effect, though. With a mumble about bossy vixens, Boris let her lead him away, his slight limp not softening her in the least but actually firing her irritation as just another sign of his stubbornness when it came to his