Execution Style by Lani Lynn Vale Page B

pulling him up. “Let’s go get that little brother of yours. Seems someone needs to take care of him.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” he drawled.
***
    “Wow, I guess I win,” Miller goaded his brother.
    “Fuck off,” he snapped, glaring at Miller over the shoulder of the male nurse who was busy cleaning off the blood from the cut on his jaw.
    When Foster had arrived, he’d immediately entered into the fray, helping defend his brother from the moment he walked into the door.
    Then promptly got a syrup bottle to his face. The glass had shattered instantly, embedding in the bottom of his jaw and chin. He’d been a mess of blood and syrup, but he’d managed to cajole the crowd away from Devon, Sarah, and Miller.
    Miller quickly got control of the situation just as three more officers arrived, arresting over twenty people.
    Sarah and Devon had been arrested for assaulting a police officer, Devon being the one that had brained Foster with the syrup bottle.
    Sarah had clawed Miller’s neck and face, but it wasn’t anything nearly as bad as Foster’s injury.
    “They didn’t shave all of it,” I said, going around to the other side to place my hand on Foster’s chin and pulled him towards me.
    The nurse tossed me a thankful look over his shoulder, happy that I’d broken the glaring match between the two men.
    “That’s right, I still have four fifths of the beard. And it wasn’t me who shaved it. This guy did,” Foster said, pointing accusingly at the man in front of him.
    Sighing, I grabbed the wet rag from the nurse and started cleaning Foster as if he were a small child that couldn’t do it himself.
    I probably did it a little harder than was necessary, but seriously, what was their deal? Foster had been hurt today, all because he was trying to help his brother. They needed to cool it with the bet.
    “How many stitches did you end up having?” I asked, eyeing the nasty looking wound.
    “Thirty one,” a male’s voice said from behind us.
    I cringed the moment I heard it, sinking into Foster the moment I heard the man’s voice.
    Foster and Miller both caught the reaction, coming to attention the second I’d done it.
    Foster scooted over until he was sitting up straight on the bed, his feet dangling over the side to allow me to get between him and the man entering the room.
    Miller stepped in front of the doctor, halting his forward progress before he’d even made it two steps inside the room.
    I was hyperventilating, squeezing my eyes tightly shut, as I prayed that he’d leave before it went to a full blown panic attack.
    Oh, my God. That voice sounded so much like Mitch’s that I wanted to puke.
    He looked exactly like him as well, even if he was a much older version of him.
    Doctor Raine Moose, Mitch’s father, was a good man.
    He was a really nice person, and I’d loved him the moment I met him.
    Something had to be said for a man that tried so hard to take care of his family, but had failed. He and Mitch’s mother, Linda, had separated just last year.
    He’d been the only good thing about going over to Mitch’s house, and once he was gone, I’d hated being anywhere near Linda. It was as if Raine had kept her grounded, and without him around, she seemed to be worse.
    “I think you need to leave,” Miller ordered quietly.
    When Raine looked over to me with his bushy eyebrows and shock of white blonde hair, nearly the same as Foster’s, I knew he felt bad. Devastated, in fact.
    “No,” I said softly, leaning into Foster. “It’s okay. Miller, I’d like you to meet Dr. Raine Moose, Mitch’s father.”
    Miller froze, looking at Raine as if he was a bug, studying him as if he’d become an interesting specimen.
    Raine’s eyes were all for me, though.
    They were filled with sorrow when he said, “I’m so sorry, Mercy.”
    I nodded, not really knowing what to say.
    ‘It’s okay’ didn’t really sound like the best thing to say. It wasn’t okay that his son had raped me. Although I knew it