Page 103 of Tight End

The rest of my words are swallowed by a piercing alarm.

Allie grabs onto my arm and my heart damn near stops.

A group of nurses rush past us.

They’re heading straight for the VIP section.

A flash of white blasts by.

Dr. Rajan.

Dread washes over me like a crushing wave, the memory of our last words crashing into me like a runaway train into a brick wall.

No, God. Don’t take him. Just give us one more chance, please…

Chapter 36

Brixton

“I’m so proud of you, Brix. And I miss the shit out of you. But it’s not your time yet. You’ve got really important things to do…you need to keep kicking ass on stage and get your career back on track.” Davis smiles. “Take your head out of your ass and fix your life because it’s a damn good one.”

“I know,” I say to Davis. “I will. And I miss the shit out of you, too.”

“I’ll always be watching over you guys. Take care of my girls for me.”

“I will,” I say. “I love you.”

Bleeping sounds scrape away at my subconscious, nudging me out of a deep sleep. I open my eyes a crack. The lights are dim but my head screams with a pounding ache. I try to wiggle my fingers and toes but they don’t respond.

They’re still asleep, I guess.

Where the fuck am I?

I open my eyes wider then snap them closed.

Why the hell am I surrounded by a bunch of strangers?

I try to shift and yelp at the scorching pain that radiates through my left side.

“Don’t move, Mr. Scott. You need to stay still.”

The female voice is soothing and I float toward it…until she turns around and yells, “Dr. Rajan! You need to get in here now!”

She’s panicking.

That can’t be good.

“Why do I need to stay still? Where am I?”

My mouth is drier than a camel’s ass right now, so the words are barely recognizable, even to me.

A tall guy in a white coat with dark hair and glasses rushes into the room and jogs over to my bed. He immediately checks the monitors and the papers flowing out of them. Then he turns back to me with a confused look on his face.

The pain slices into me again and I let out a howl. “Fuck, what happened?”

“You were shot,” the doctor says, his eyebrows knitted together. “Do you remember anything about it?”

“Oh, shit,” I mumble, my mind stumbling back to those seconds in the parking garage. “Yeah. I was heading into the hospital and this black truck stopped right in front of me. Window goes down, gun comes out firing.”

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