I shake my head at how far the Crew’s reach is. Well, I already knew they had the cops in their pockets. Obviously not Reynolds, but they have to have at least someone higher up in their pockets for Big Daddy K to get away with my parents’ murder among the others. “Who’s on our payroll?” I ask as discreetly as I can. This shouldn’t seem weird since I am one of them now. Mag meets my gaze in the rearview mirror. I can’t decipher his look, but I push on anyway. “In the police, I mean. You have people turning a blind eye to illegal activities. Magnum shot someone and didn’t get in trouble for it. Like, who is it? It must be someone big.”
Mag clears his throat. “Technically, I got out of that because their phony witness disappeared.”
Oh, right. I forgot about that.
Johnny stops moving his thumb over my hand. “That’s one of the most closely guarded secrets my father has.”
“So, you don’t even know?” I peek at him, finding that hard to believe. I thought Johnny was involved in everything the Crew did.
“I have my suspicions, but no, I don’t know.”
The finality of his words makes me pause. It doesn’t really have any effect as to why I’m here. I’m here to kill Big Daddy K and get the fuck out. With my guys. I don’t care what happens to the Crew after that. My beef was never with the whole Crew, just the fucker who took my parents from me. I do think it’s crazy that they can get away with so much stuff though.
Mag pulls up to the PT office. I stare at a building filled with windows. They’re not see-through though. They’re the kind that just reflect back whatever is in front of them. So, right now, our car’s profile is mirrored back to me. “I hope this place is better than the last.”
Johnny turns toward me, brows pulling together. “What?”
“Those guys hated me,” I say, actually dreading walking into this new place. I don’t want another repeat of that PT asshole. “Dicks.”
“Who was it?” Johnny grinds out.
I turn to him and pat him on the leg. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over now. Plus, I can’t really blame him. He thinks I killed a little girl.” Even though the “evidence” against me was shotty at best. Reynolds just wanted to peg me for something, and whoever put my prints on the gun, handed me to him on a silver platter.
“I’m going in with you,” Johnny says.
Johnny throws the door open, and I get out after him. I give Mag a small smile as he frowns. As soon as we close the car door behind us though, Mag whips the car into a parking spot and joins us.
Johnny’s whole body locks up, and he squeezes my hand tighter.
Though I walk hand-in-hand with Johnny into the PT place, I’m with both of them, which makes me that much happier. No one will treat me like shit with both guys by my side.
A nurse waits for us as soon as we get inside. She’s all smiles, which immediately puts me at ease. She, however, looks at Mag and Johnny with wide eyes like she’s impressed I have such a brood of men surrounding me.
First, she takes me into a separate room where I get some x-rays, and then I’m escorted out in their hideous gown to a private PT room where Johnny and Mag are already sitting. Johnny has my shirt and bra in his hands, and I bite my lip to keep from thinking how domestic this all looks. It’s like I’m here with my husband or boyfriend, except that there are two boyfriends and not just one. Oh, and my other two boyfriends are sitting at home with probably zero idea Johnny knows what’s going on. Unless Mag has told them.
I sit on the table, and we don’t wait long. A doctor in his mid-forties strides in. His silver-streaked gray hair is handsome, silhouetting a boyish face. He shakes hands with me first, without the added extra grip strength of showy masculinity that I appreciate. Then, he shakes hands with Johnny and Magnum. Johnny introduces himself as my boyfriend, leaving Magnum to say friend with a scowl. He wants to say he’s my boyfriend, too, but what we’re doing is all so different from how others walk around. We don’t need to be drawing added attention to ourselves.
“Let’s see what we got here,” the PT guy says. He opens my gown in the back and peers at my spine. He thinks for a moment. The mirror in front of me shows the furrow of his brows. “You know what, let me have you sit in a chair for a second.”
Magnum immediately jumps out of his stool and rolls it toward us. The PT guy grabs my hand to help me off the table and then I sit, giving him a better view of my neck. His hands massage into my spine, asking me to tell him when it hurts. When I don’t say anything at all, he asks me the last time it did hurt. “It aches every now and then,” I tell him.
Two short raps sound on the door, and Johnny jumps into an offensive stance as it opens. The nurse on the opposite end screams as Johnny fills her line of vision.
I press my lips together to keep from laughing. Johnny apologizes profusely, giving her the lame excuse that she startled him, but I saw his hand dip into the waistband of his pants. He was two seconds away from pulling a gun at the intrusion, and I’m not sure Magnum was far behind him.
The nurse giggles warily and hands the doctor a folder. He quickly shoos her out of the room and then places my x-rays on the wall, flipping on a light so they illuminate from behind. He studies the pictures for a few minutes while we all look, too, acting as if we know what we’re looking at. I mean, they look good to me. I see vertebrae that move into a neck that holds my skull. That’s good, right?
“Huh,” he says. He turns, his finger pressed against his lips as he regards me. “Honestly, you seem fine. You don’t have much pain. Your x-rays look good. I asked your previous PT place if they could send over your previous images. The ones they sent were from when the accident occurred. You say you’ve been going to the specialist all along?” he asks.
“Yes. When I moved back here, they’d just started this electric shock therapy, as well as the exercises I was doing previously.”
The PT guy shrugs. “What they did worked.” He turns to peek at the x-rays again. “What I see here, and based on my examination today, I don’t believe you need to see a physical therapist, Kyla.” He launches into a spiel about doing the exercises they showed me if my pain ever flares up again, including what kind of pain medicine I can take when—or even if—that happens.
“Are you sure?” Johnny interrupts.
“Quite sure,” PT guy says. “Your girlfriend is well. That doesn’t mean you can’t come see me again if you have increased pain that lasts a few days. That might be a trigger that you’re regressing, but as of right now, no, I don’t see a reason to treat her. I’m honestly surprised they treated her for so long.”
Mag and Johnny share a hard look. The doctor shakes all of our hands again and walks out the door. In his absence, I release a breath. Johnny hands me my things, and I turn away from Magnum to put my bra on. Not that I wouldn’t mind getting dressed in front of him, but the next time he sees my breasts, I’d rather it be because we were two seconds from jumping in the sack together.
I pull my shirt on next just as Mag says, “Reynolds.”
“Huh?” I ask, turning.
“Reynolds,” he says again, moving his glance from Johnny to me. “Reynolds kept you in PT so he could keep an eye on you. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”