Page 163 of Scatter the Bones

What looks like a station wagon jerks to a stop. The driver’s side door flings open.

“What the fuck happened?” Rooster’s heavy footsteps thunder over the pavement.

I lift my chin. “The fuck you driving?”

On my left, Rock shakes with laughter. “It’s Hope’s car. Told him to take it. Thought it’d attract less attention out here.”

“We need to get him inside,” Margot says. “Get him on the ramp.”

“Where’s he hurt?” Rooster asks, marching alongside us.

“Thigh. Fucker stabbed me in the thigh.” I side-eye Murphy. “I’m kicking Griff and Remy’s ass for not searching that dude better.”

He lets out a strained laugh. “I’m sure you will.”

“Murphy can you…?” Rock’s voice trails off. “Rooster, get his other side.”

Murphy transfers my right arm to Rooster.

I turn my head. “Hey, buddy.”

“Come on. Let’s go,” Rooster coaxes. “I brought all sorts of stuff to make you feel better.”

“Margot’ll make me feel better.”

He chuckles. “I’m sure she will.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Margot says in a strained voice.

Something clicks. Metal on metal screeches.

Finally, we’re inside. I flick my gaze at the long staircase in front of me. “I don’t know guys…”

“Where do you want to stitch him up, Margot?” Rock asks.

Margot bites her lip and stares at me with apologetic eyes. “The best place would really be…”

Realization of what she’s suggesting hits hard.

“No way.” I struggle to free myself from Rock’s iron grip and almost crumple to the floor. “No. You arenotputting me on the table where you…no.”

“It’s sterile. The lighting. The right height for me to work and see what I’m doing,” she pleads.

“She’s right.” Rooster starts turning me to the left. “Unless you want to sprawl your big ass on that narrow little couch in there and bleed all over the furniture.”

“Wait.” I try to dig my toes into the carpet, but these two big fuckers keep right on moving. “What about the kitchen counter?”

“We could…” Margot hesitates like she’s considering it. “But it’s not really big enough.”

“Come on.” Rooster grips me tighter, lifting me higher. “Let’s give Margot the best conditions possible to work with. You don’t want her to accidentally stitch your nutsack to your leg.”

Rock’s body jerks with laughter.

“Why do you hate my nuts so much?” I ask Rooster, then turn to Rock. “He wished ticks on my balls the other day.”

“Jesus Christ,” Rock mutters. “Keep moving, chuckles.”

Blinding light sears my eyes as we cross the threshold into the large, white room full of cabinets and four separate metal tables.

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