“No,” Angus barked, sending the dog in a tailspin around him. “The next person who suggests a hospital gets shot in the knee.” He limped to the nearest chair and dropped onto it with a groan. Roscoe yipped and ran to his side, setting his furry head on Angus’s knee for reassurance.

Nari’s lips tightened. “Very well. This is Dr. George Georgetown, and he has agreed to see you both and make sure you’re not about to drop dead here in this crappy office.”

George Georgetown? Seriously? Brigid studied the elderly man.

He smiled, revealing ill-fitting dentures. “I’m still licensed but haven’t worked much the last couple of decades.”

Nari, the most petite woman in the office, leaned down to take his arm and draw him into the main room. “We appreciate any help you can provide.” Lowering her chin, she looked at Angus and then Raider. “I can’t tell who is injured worst.”

“He is,” they both said, pointing to the other.

Raider rolled his eyes. “Force has a concussion for sure, and based on his breathing during the last several hours, I’d bet on a broken rib or two.”

Angus didn’t even turn. “Not to mention the burn along my ass from you shooting me.”

Brigid gasped.

Raider patted her hand. “I had to aim close to you, and your butt was better than deafening you for life. But I didn’t know I’d burned your ass. Sorry about that.”

Angus waved him off. “I need to sit here for a minute. You go first.” He stroked the dog’s head. “Doc? I think Raider’s shoulder is out of joint. Wolfe offered to fix it, but Raider refused for some reason.” His laugh was more of a wheeze.

Brigid finally gave in and grasped Raider’s good arm. “We can use case room two as an examination room.” The other case room was full of the documents she’d been printing out all day to create a better background on Eddie Coonan, his organization, and his ties to the senator.

Raider, surprisingly, let her lead him around the desks to the room.

Once inside, Brigid shoved chairs out of the way and helped him onto the table. “How badly are you hurt?”

“Not bad.” His gaze softened. “Stop worrying, Irish. I’m fine.”

The doctor closed the door and came forward, looking into Raider’s eyes. “You have some bad contusions on your face. Any dizziness or nausea?” The doc took a light out of his bag and shined it in Raider’s eyes.

“No.” Raider’s eyebrows drew together as he studied the older man.

Yeah, the old man didn’t look like he had it together. Brigid cleared her throat. “What’s up with the pajamas?”