Logan let his head rest against the piece-of-junk bumper. “They robbed us.”
“Who?”
“Hell if I know.”
“Where?”
“At Timmy’s.”
“Timmy who?”
“I don’t know. He lives on Seventh Street. Gunfire started, and I took off—got in the car and booked it. I didn’t realize they got me until I started feeling woozy. I ran in here to get away just in case they’re looking for me.”
Jagger fought not to shake his head in judgment. When had things gotten so out of control? This was supposed to have been his fate. Not the rich kid’s from the right side of the tracks. “Put pressure back on that.”
Logan closed his eyes again as he pressed his fingers against his stomach. “Get me out of here. I don’t think I can stand.”
Jagger nodded, debating the idea of calling for an ambulance, but the puddle in the dirt told him they didn’t have time to wait. Emergency personnel never responded without a police presence in this neighborhood. “This is going to suck when I lift you up.”
Logan nodded this time but didn’t bother to look at him.
“You need to stay with me—to stay awake,” he said, pulling Logan forward, then hoisting him over his shoulder.
“Fuck,” Logan moaned in agony.
Jagger gritted his teeth as he struggled to stand with the extra weight. They were both six-foot. They were both broad and muscular after years on the football fields and taekwondo mats. “Jesus, you’re heavy.”
Logan moaned. “Hurry.”
That was the plan as Jagger started back the way he came, doing his damnedest to move without tripping in the dark. He certainly couldn’t use his phone light to guide them now.
For the briefest of seconds, he wished he’d let Grace get in the car when she’d insisted that she was coming too. But he’d convinced her to stay home and get them packed to head back to school. “You’ve gotta knock this shit off, man. At this rate, you’re not going to live to see twenty-one.”
“Don’t start.”
Jagger narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing every step, blowing out long breaths with his effort to make it around the next scrap heap. “Was my brother with you tonight?”
Even as he asked, he already knew the answer. This entire nightmare began when Logan had gone in search of more pain pills for his bad shoulder. The doctors had said no to another refill when everyone started realizing that Logan had a problem, so Jagger’s big brother had been more than happy to hook him up.
Logan coughed. “This sucks so bad.”
They weren’t changing the subject. “Did Levi get you mixed up in this?”
Logan groaned this time when Jagger stumbled with his next step. “It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal. He said these guys had bought from him before.”
“When is it going to sink in that Levi is nothing but trouble?”
Logan groaned again. “Hurry up, man. I think I’m dying.”
He flared his nostrils with his helpless sense of terror and rage. Logan’s voice was growing weaker. He could feel his friend’s blood running down the back of his leg, soaking his sock in his sneaker. “Don’t talk like that.”
“Tell Grace I’m sorry.”
“You tell Grace you’re sorry.” They finally skirted the last car. But his heart sank as he stared at the endless row of chain-link. He’d forgotten about the fence—the skinny hole he’d had to slide through to get inside.
“I’m going to get us out of here. They’re going to fix you up. Then you’re going to get yourself cleaned up and stop with all this bullshit.”
Logan didn’t respond.