He smiled sheepishly at her. “Thanks for giving us a moment.”

“No problem.”

“What happens now? Can I take her home?”

“I don’t see why she’d need to stay here, but I’m not the doctor. I’ll see if I can get a doc to sign off on her. It might take me a bit, so be patient.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Shiori had slumped back into the pillow.

He scooted the lone chair closer and took her hand, bringing her knuckles to his mouth for a kiss. “I’m hoping to get you out of here soon.”

She nodded, then winced.

“Rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Knox watched her until her breathing slowed. Keeping hold of her hand, he rested his forehead on the edge of her bed. Relief like he’d never known finally swept through him. She was all right. Banged up and battered but here, right here, with him where she belonged.

Knox fished out both phones and started sending text messages. First to Deacon, then a brief explanation to the Black Arts crew. He used Shiori’s phone to text Tom, Fee, Katie and Molly. It was a damn good thing she used pictures to identify who was who, because all her contact names were in Japanese. His finger hovered over her mother’s picture. She had a right to know her daughter had been in an accident, but was it his place to tell her?

No.

He had the same hesitation over Ronin’s number. Sensei Black had been gone three months. In that time they’d heard from him once, when he’d sent an e-mail indicating he and Amery were spending time in Hawaii before they returned home. So yeah, he’d skip contacting Ronin too.

Half an hour later a hacking cough woke him. He’d dozed off with his head on Shiori’s bed. He handed her a glass of water. “Here.”

Shiori drank it down, and Knox could tell she had trouble swallowing.

“Do you need a straw?”

She shook her head.

“Can I see your tongue?”

She shook her head vehemently.

“Come on, She-Cat. You always want to stick your tongue out at me. Here’s your chance.”

She turned her head away from him and a tear rolled down her cheek.

That hurt him worse than the time she’d accidentally stomped on his kidney. He leaned over her and swiped it away with his thumb. “It’s not morbid curiosity making me ask, kitten. I’ll be taking care of you while you recover, and I want to see the injury at its worst so I know when it’s healing.”

Shiori faced him and closed her eyes before she opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue.

His gut clenched. Her tongue had swelled so much he wondered how she kept it in her mouth. Not only had she bitten it a few inches down from the tip with enough force that she had left deeply indented bloody teeth marks, but she’d also bitten the sides of her tongue with her back teeth, so that was swollen and bruised. When he noticed the blood underneath her chin and streaks on her neck, he imagined it’d bled like a son of a bitch.

She made a noise, and he looked up at her. Such mortification on her face.

Keeping his eyes connected to hers, he bent down and kissed her poor abused tongue. When he pulled back, he shrugged and said, “I expected worse.”

The door opened and a harried-looking woman in blue scrubs walked in with a clipboard. “I’m Dr. Ballard. I see you’ve requested to be discharged.”

Shiori nodded.

The doctor looked at Knox. “You’ll be taking care of her?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You know what signs to look for if she has complications from the concussion?”

Knox rattled them off with ease.

“Now, you know I’m going to ask how you’re so familiar with them,” Dr. Ballard said.

“Shiori and I are both jujitsu instructors, and we’ve seen more than our share of concussions over the years. She’s in good hands with me.”

“Sounds like it. As for the tongue injury, it didn’t require stitches, but if it doesn’t show healing even in the next twenty-four hours you’ll need to call an oral surgeon. She needs to keep an ice pack on her tongue at least fifteen minutes every hour. The less she talks, the less trauma to the tongue and the faster it heals. But between that and the concussion, I can prescribe painkillers—”

Shiori shook her head.

The doctor looked at Knox and he shrugged. “It’s a family thing. Her brother, our Sensei, has the same mind-set.”

“Over-the-counter meds?” the doctor asked Shiori.

She nodded.

“Motrin or Tylenol. No OTC with aspirin in it.” She took out a prescription pad and scrawled across it. “A cycle of antibiotics is nonnegotiable.” She handed it to Knox but spoke to Shiori. “You’ll be sore for a few days—nature of the beast with car accidents. Although if you practice martial arts you have a higher pain tolerance than most people. Biggest thing? You need to rest your body because you have been through a trauma.” She pointed at Knox. “Lucky you, having this handsome man at your beck and call. But I wouldn’t get used to it.”