The Bad Boy, The Sat Nav and Me

Chapter 30 - Stinging Stomachs and Strange Surroundings

                “Stop right there,” I ordered when Hunter strolled back in with a wheel chair and large shirt. Hunter stopped, raising one eyebrow and crossing his arms expectantly.

                “Can we hurry this up? We have somewhere to be, Princess,” he drawled. I shook my head, pushing myself up despite the pain. We really needed to steal some morphine or something on the way out.

                “No, we don’t. I’m healing, you ass. What’s going on?” Hunter sighed, leaning on the back of the wheel chair. Before he spoke, I eyed it uneasily.

                “We can’t stay here, as you’ve probably realized, we have a little problem on the horizon. So get your clothes off, put this on and get in the wheelchair,” he said. His face dropped when I raised my eyebrows, giving him a look that said telling me what to do that way wasn’t going to get him anywhere.

                “Well, you’ve pretty much just blown your chances there, haven’t you?” Hunter grunted, taking something out of his pocket and waving it around.

                “I’ve got the morphine, so chop chop,” he said, clapping. In my stubborn nature, morphine or no morphine, his tone annoyed me so much that I dropped onto the bed, hissing through my teeth when my side contracted.

                “You can go stick your morphine up your ass,” I replied. Hunter grunted, sitting on the chair with a slump.

                “I’ll stick it up your ass in a minute, whatever will knock you out,” he retorted. I pursed my lips and gave him the best glare that I could muster.

                “Such loving words,” I muttered. Hunter leaned forwards, resting his forearms on his knees, giving me a look.

                “We need to go, we’ve got two gangs on our backs now,” he said. I rolled my eyes, holding my hand out.

                “Give me the shirt and turn around.”

                “Turn around?” he echoed. I nodded.

                “Turn around.”

                With a grumble, he did as he was told and started sorting out the wheelchair. The clothes were painful to get on and in the end Hunter had to help me anyway, but I managed to put them all on and drop into the wheelchair with a lazy thump.

                “Come on then, Princess, let’s get going,” he cooed, pushing it out of the door, using my feet as the door opener.

                “Oi,” I hissed, attempting to shoot him a glare over my shoulder.

                “Sorry.”