Page 43 of Devil's Own: Roughneck

“Getting rid of the VIN and taking the plate before—”

The man runs back, leaping into the side of the ’copter, and the pilot lifts off right as the van explodes in a ball of fire. Pieces of metal fly up in the air and fall back to the ground. He’s able to maneuver us away from any of the debris.

The medics start triage on both Cut and me first. “Stay with me,” he says, but it takes a herculean effort just to focus on his voice because my head is a blur like I’m ready to pass out at any moment.

“Just hang on,” the other medic says to Cut. We’re both fading.

“Hang on, brother,” I manage. “Aja and Freya. You got to… get home to… them.”

We head south. I know that his men have an underground hospital set up because we used it when we moved in to rescue Greer. I never thought I’d be back there after we took bullets for her. Three years later and we’re still fucking at it. Fighting for our lives. This shit has to end. The Lords got out until we dragged them back in. But they had years of peace. I want my fucking peace. With Gee.

Finally, the pain catches up and everything goes black.

I come to in a hospital room, hooked up to machines, hooked up to an IV line, and needing pain meds. Pretty much, I can only move my hand, which I drop over the side of the bed and fumble to find the comm button without actually seeing it.

“Rough?” a man’s voice asks.

“Pain,” I manage to say back.

Block walks in. I’d recognize that head of dark hair and the way he holds himself, part doctor and part soldier, anywhere. He carries a syringe that he plugs into the port on my IV tube, pushing the plunger. A rush of warmth floods through me. I think I might’ve sighed. Good man. He went to medical school after retiring from the military. Thank Christ for that.

“Cut?” I ask.

“ICU,” he answers.

“Where’s that?” I ask in a whisper because I can’t get my voice to go any louder.

“Right here.” He laughs his response as he points to another room separated by a wall where the top half is windows and a door.

“I’m in ICU?”

“Do you get you were shot in the shoulder, thigh, and gut?”

I nod slightly.

“Do you get that gut wounds have a high fatality rate?”

Again, from my time in the Horde, I know this to be true and nod slightly. We aren’t the only two injured, but we’re the worst. Block keeps me in the ICU for about a week. The operation has gotten big. He has nurses and aids and shit. It’s a real hospital funded by men who don’t want to report injuries to a regular hospital. It’s an outlaw hospital.

Once I’m well enough, they move me to another room with Cut as my roommate. I opted not to call Gee. The less she knows about my injuries, the better off she is. Can’t worry about something you don’t know happened in the first place. Cut agrees. Aja went through so much of her own shit at the hands of the Death Bringers he doesn’t want to put her into some kind of mental tailspin.

Sarge walks in to check on us with two of his former Raiders. They’re in the middle of a conversation. “But really,” Sarge says. “A fucking helo?” Helo? Helicopter? I think that’s right.

The man, I think I recognize as the pilot, laughs. “Just got it. Sweet, right?”

Sarge smiles. “Sweet as hell.”

“Knew I’d need to bail out your sorry ass again. Thought it was a good investment.” Then the man turns to Cut and me. “Been out, ears to the ground. Wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m alive,” I say.

“Same,” Cut answers. We’re both recovering, but neither of us is ready for release. That sucks.

I know we didn’t get all of those Death Bringer bastards, but we put the hurt on their numbers. Now, we need to finish what they started. And we need to do it yesterday.

14

There’s a wear-pattern on the floor from all my pacing. Thisloving a man with a dangerous jobthing completely sucks at the moment. Not enough to end it with the man, but still.

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