Page 134 of Romeo

“To keep me company?”

“To make sure the motherfuckers who fucked you up don’t come back to finish the job.”

Romeo let that sink into his shaken and bruised gray matter.

They. Motherfuckers. Wick.Bits and pieces of the attack were slowly coming back to him.

Bishop picked up his phone again. “Gonna let Magnum know you’re awake.”

“Fuck that. Wanna talk to Wick first. He tell Magnum whathappened?”

“What d’you think?”

His mouth and throat were so damn dry, he needed water. Though, whiskey might be a better choice.

Lifting his unbroken, but severely bruised, arm—the one with the needles stuck in both the back of his hand and forearm—he reached for the cup sitting on a rolling table next to the bed. Unfortunately, it was empty. “Water.”

Bishop popped up and grabbed the pitcher, filled the plastic cup, and held it out. “Want me to help?”

Romeo swiped at the cup and missed. He tried and missed again.

Bishop held the straw to his lips. “Might take a while to get back your coordination. Remember that old commercial where they cracked an egg into a fryin’ pan and said, ‘this is your brain on drugs?’ Your brain’s sorta like that right now but instead of one egg, they broke a whole dozen.”

What the fuck was he talking about?

Whatever it was wasn’t important. But what was… “My cut?”

“At your place.”

“It okay?”

“That’s fucked up, brother. You’re more worried about your damn cut than yourself?” Bishop shook his head. “It’s safe and sound. Wick thought ahead and left that and the piece you were packin’ at your place before the ambulance hauled your ass away.”

He’d sigh with relief but figured doing so would hurt like fuck since his ribs were tightly bound for a good reason.

But… his piece? Why didn’t he pull it if his life was in danger?

“I give any of ‘em an extra hole or two?”

“Don’t think so. Seems like the only blood that needed to be washed off the pavement wasyours.”

Great.

“Think it was the Fury?”

Bishop’s forehead wrinkled. “Why the fuck would it be the Fury?”

Shit.“It wouldn’t. You’re right about my mind bein’ scrambled.” He quickly changed the subject. “Wick found me?”

“I just said that.”

“Need to talk to him.”

Bishop shook his head. “You just said that.”

For fuck’s sake.Did he have permanent brain damage? “What’s wrong with me?”

“Listin’ what’s right would be shorter.”

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