Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Fuse’s phone rang just as I was changing out of my hospital gown, ready to ditch this sterile hellhole. I’d been cleared for discharge an hour ago. The stitches tugged when I bent, my ribs ached like a motherfucker, but I was mobile enough.
The doctors were probably booting me because every nurse on the floor had a hard time keeping out of my room. I didn’t blame them—I looked fantastic in a gown that showed way too much ass.
Fuse’s voice turned razor sharp. “Stay calm. And Kenna, if he gets to you, you fight with everything you’ve got.”
My blood iced over.
Fuse met my eyes, jaw tight. “Kenna’s in trouble. Merrick was right. The Jackals have been watching her.”
Every ache vanished. “Where?”
“Construction site, two blocks north.”
“Let’s go,” I snapped. “You got a spare piece?”
Fuse pulled a tiny Ruger LCP from his ankle holster and thrust it into my hand.
“Cute,” I muttered at the small handgun, jamming it into my waistband.
I laced up my boots. Adrenaline drowned the fire that every movement sent through my ribs.
“Why her?” Fuse asked as we strode out of the hospital in a rush.
“Kenna’s family is loaded,” I explained. “My guess is ransom. What I want to know is what the fuck she’s doing downtown on her own. There’s no way Merrick left her unprotected.”
We hit the street at a jog, Fuse scanning alleys, me clutching my side.
Two blocks. Two fucking blocks that felt like two miles. The construction site loomed ahead—chain-link fence torn open, scaffolding abandoned.
I heard her before I saw her. The thug in the bandanna wrenched her from behind a stack of rebar, her cry slicing through the air.
“Thought you could hide from me, puta? Jefe’s been looking for you. If we can’t get your rich mami to pay up, we’ll sell you to the cartel. Bet they’d like a redhead.”
Kenna struggled against him. “Get your hands off me, asshole.”
“Let her go.” My voice was ice.
The man spun, shoving Kenna against a concrete mixer. He eyed the Ruger in my hand and laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “With that toy gun? Fuck off.”
Fuse melted into the shadows, stalking behind him.
I kept the guy’s eyes on me as I moved closer. “Last chance. Walk away.”
He sneered, one hand gripping Kenna’s arm, the other reaching for his waistband. “Or what? You’ll—”
I lunged. Not at him—at Kenna. I shoved her clear just as he drew his weapon. The gunshot exploded, searing through my side. White-hot pain blinded me. Fuck.
Fuse didn’t hesitate. Two shots from the shadows. The man dropped, a dark stain blooming over his chest.
Kenna scrambled to me, eyes wild. “Hatchet!”
“I’m fine,” I gritted out, but she was already ripping off her shirt, pressing the fabric hard against my side to stop the bleeding. “But I don’t mind the strip show, doll. Nice bra. Black lace. I like it.”
Kenna glared at me, but I could see the fear in her eyes.
Fuse crouched beside us. “You’re going to need to go back to the hospital. I’ll call an ambulance.”
“No,” I rasped, grabbing his arm. “If they find you here with that gun, you’re going back to prison. Go. Now. I’m good. Kenna can call.”
Fuse hesitated, then nodded grimly. He wiped his Glock clean of prints, pressed it into my hand, and vanished into the maze of scaffolding.
Kenna’s hands trembled against my wound. “Why’d he leave? You’re bleeding—”
“Protecting him,” I groaned. Sirens wailed in the distance. “Call 911 and tell ’em I fired the shots when they get here.”
She didn’t hesitate. One hand pressed hard against my wound, and the other fumbled for her phone. Her voice was surprisingly steady as she spoke to dispatch. The ambulance screeched to a halt minutes later. Paramedics swarmed us, and Kenna clung to my uninjured hand as they loaded me onto a gurney.
“I’m riding with him,” she insisted to the paramedics.
I squeezed her fingers. “I’ll be fine, doll. This isn’t even the worst gunshot I’ve had. Not even in the top three.”
The look on her face told me that it wasn’t as comforting as I thought it’d be.
The ER doors flew open as the paramedics wheeled me in, fluorescent lights as blinding as the midday sun had been outside.
Merci stood, arms crossed. “Back so soon, Hatchet?”
I groaned, but a laugh escaped through the pain. “Thought you might enjoy more practice on GSW patients. Wanted to make sure you didn’t get bored.”
She snorted, falling into step beside the gurney. “Get this asshole to Trauma 1,” she ordered a fellow intern. Her tone softened as she glanced at Kenna. “You OK?”
Kenna nodded, though her knuckles were white where she gripped the rail.
Merci’s eyes flicked to the wound on my side, professional and sharp. “Clean entry and exit. You’re lucky, idiot.”
Kenna hovered in the doorway, her face pale. Merci waved her in. “You can sit with him while we get this cleaned up. I’ll get a nurse to bring you a scrub top. It was smart to use your shirt to staunch the bleeding.”
As the docs worked, Kenna never left my side. Her hand stayed in mine, her thumb tracing circles on my skin. Merci kept up a steady stream of dry commentary, helping Kenna laugh through the tension.
As Merci left the room, she gave me a long look. “Rest. And try not to get shot again between now and your next discharge. The cops will probably be in shortly to take your statement.”
Kenna’s phone dinged. “It’s Fuse,” she said. “I’m going to step out and update him. Do you need anything?”
I gave her a lopsided grin. “I’m good. Just try not to get in trouble between here and the waiting room. Merci will be pissed if I rip these stitches.”
Her lips twitched as she slipped out. I let my head fall back against the pillow. The adrenaline had burned off, leaving nothing behind but fire in my side and the hollow ache you only notice when the fight’s over.
Kenna had been seconds away from—fuck, I couldn’t even let myself finish the thought. Another loss like that? I’m not sure Merrick would survive it. He was my brother, my oldest friend, my family. Losing her would’ve gutted him worse than any bullet ever could. Hell, it would’ve gutted me, too.
Bruised ribs, busted stitches, hole in my side—small price. Better me than leaving Merrick hollowed out again. He couldn’t live with another ghost.
I exhaled slowly, trying to let the pain drown out the thought clawing at the back of my skull: what if we hadn’t made it in time?