Page 18 of Perfectly Leashed
The man with the killer eyes was on the opposite side of the bed, phone to his ear. “You get your ass to the den now!” he growled. “We got a gunshot wound that ain’t letting up.”
Den? Was he talking about the bar? Some back office? Darcy’s brain scrambled to make sense of the word, but it couldn’t.
Then Killer Eyes hung up and gazed at Luca, who was barely breathing.
Darcy took a step back when the guy’s eyes glowed amber. The same amber Darcy had seen briefly in Luca’s eyes.
It had to be the lighting. Darcy blinked hard, but no one was reacting to the bizarre sight.
Two men in a corner started arguing, low and guttural, their voices rough. “I know one of those hyenas got away. I counted six, but only five shifters went down.”
“I only counted four dead,” the other argued, his growl animalistic.
Hyenas, shifters? Was that some kind of biker code? Drugs? Guns? Gangs? Why would they bring up wild animals? Unless they’d grown opposable thumbs, a hyena hadn’t shot Luca.
Someone else echoed that growl, lips pulled back.
Killer Eyes looked Darcy’s way. “Who are you?” he demanded, stepping toward Darcy. “What the fuck’re you doing in here?”
Darcy backed up until there was a wall behind him. His gaze darted to Luca, his heart in his throat.
“Luca invited him here,” Santiago said.
Killer Eyes frowned, glancing back at Darcy. “He invited you here?”
What was with that damn question? Why did everyone act like Darcy’s presence was so shocking?
Percy hurried to Darcy’s side, hooking their arms. “He’s my pizza guy. Puedo flotar en latas amarillas,” he said fiercely.
Killer Eyes’ brows knitted deeper. He stared at Percy like he was a puzzle to solve.
“I told him you’re my guest too,” Percy whispered to Darcy, patting his shoulder. “Let’s head to the kitchen so they can deal with this without us in the way.”
Brows furrowed, Darcy stepped out of the room, trying desperately to put all the pieces together.
Chapter Five
Consciousness drifted back to Luca like swimming up from the bottom of a murky pond. Something hurt in his shoulder, a dull throb that pulsed with each heartbeat. Lifting his hand took more effort than it should have. His fingers found a thick padding of gauze taped across his shoulder. They poked clumsily until a muted ache answered back.
His mind drifted, foggy from whatever had been pumped into him. If Dr. Martinez had handled the dosage, he’d clearly been generous with the good stuff. Which meant nothing worked right—mouth, muscles, thoughts.
Something important nagged at the edge of memory, sliding around until gunfire echoed in his head. The shootout. The Camry on Hawk’s Ridge. Bullet through his shoulder. That explained the meds.
Luca cracked open his eyes, the overhead light too bright. So he squinted at the ceiling with one eye, then turned his head an inch to the right and regretted it instantly when pain shot down his side.
When it eased, he spotted Darcy, messy hair sticking up in all directions. He sat nearby in a worn chair, a plate of wings balanced on his knees. He was picking at them, his focus tight like he didn’t want to move too much or make noise.
“Damn, lucerito. You’re even more beautiful than I remembered,” Luca said, his voice thick and slurred.
Darcy’s mouth twitched into a smirk. “Yeah, you’re definitely high off your ass.”
“High on you, maybe.” The words tumbled out before Luca could stop them, but he didn't care. Everything felt loose and easy, like his usual filters had been temporarily disconnected.
Those green eyes sparkled with amusement. “How are you feeling?”
“Alive.” Luca grazed his fingers over the gauze. “Feels like I parked my tow truck on my shoulder.” He worked his jaw, rubbing it once. “Can’t feel my face. You steal my mouth, handsome?”
Darcy huffed a laugh, nudging the plate on his lap. “So getting shot just flips your flirt switch, huh?”
