Page 90 of His Deadly Lies

It takes me way too long to realize that several nurses have gotten close, and the ma’am they’re addressing is me. One of them grabs me by the arm and inspects the blood caked on my skin. Despite my best efforts to pull away, the bitch is strong.

“I’m fine,” I snap. “This isn’t my blood.”

“We need to get you to one of the observation rooms. Jeff? Do you think three is open?” the woman asks.

It’s a strange sense of deja vu, being back at the hospital. Arguing with people who lack the capacity or the willingness to hear me out.

“You need to start believing that I’m not stupid enough to walk around after I’ve been shot.” I wrench my arm back, holding it close to my chest. “It’s not my blood.”

The nurse eyes me, surprised. “I’m sorry.”

“Yes, and you should be.”

I’m not going to waste my time arguing with hospital staff. Once the elevator reaches the ground floor, the doors opening with a ding, I cross the lobby and head out the sliding glass doors toward the parking lot. The full parking lot, I note. Must be a full moon. The place seems crazier than usual. Or maybe it’s just the nurses forced into go mode.

Either way—

The night air doesn’t do wonders for my psyche, either. If anything, it clogs my lungs further, and I press a hand to my chest to physically push. The motion does nothing for the tightness there.

Carter’s okay, but nothing feels fixed yet. As though there are still several hurdles for me to surpass before I can get to a semblance of peace again. The three of us are going to have to sit down and have a serious talk once Carter recovers. Without Papa, I add. Having my father there will only make this entire thing worse than it already is.

A stray thought tickles the back of my head.

The men from the warehouse…they said they did all this to get our attention. They also mentioned working for someone else. Hadn’t they?

I don’t remember. Not in any great detail. Maybe Carter will once he recovers enough for an interrogation.

A car drives by and slows.

By the time I look up to see who is behind the wheel, it’s too late.

Someone grabs me from behind, pressing a cloth over my mouth and forcing me to inhale some kind of noxious fumes. Their arms are iron banded around me, and I struggle to kick back, to elbow them, and free myself, but they’ve got me gripped.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t think, every part of me hot and tense and woozy. Panicked, I struggle, but the chemical is already in my system, choking me. It happens too fast. Even the fear eventually fades, and soon there’s nothing but darkness.

25

CARTER

Everything hurts like a goddamn motherfucker. From the tips of my toes to the top of my head and in between. Even my hair pulses. And when I open my eyes, and Ricardo’s face swims into view, shifting from blur to steady, I frown. “Yours is not the face I was hoping to see,” I manage to grunt.

Even talking causes my muscles to spasm.

The rest of the room sharpens. Ricardo says nothing as he makes himself comfortable on the edge of the hospital mattress. The space is filled with the steady beating of the heart monitor, which is a pretty good thing, I’d say. The closed door blocks off most of the sound from the hallway.

“Your girl caused a big scene when I refused to tell her where you are,” he says, staring off into the distant dust-filled corners. “She even stole my gun. Told her you wouldn’t be too happy if I turned up dead.”

Amusement flickers through me. “Sounds like her.”

I’ve taken bullets before and hits too numerous to remember them all. For some fucking reason, diving in front of the gunshot meant for Mia hit harder than most on multiple levels. Left on a surgeon’s glistening table, for one. Two…

If it took her down, I wouldn’t be able to live.

“She went outside for a breather, but she’s coming right back, and she’s sure to raise hell,” Ricardo continues.

“Think you can go easy on her and let her know I’m right here?” I ask. “Maybe even bring her up?”

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