26 Aubie
BLOOD.
So much blood.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to block out the images, but it’s too late. Like opening a dam, it all comes flooding back.
All the anguish.
All the fear.
This can’t be happening again.
“How’s he doing?” Daryl asks from the front seat, pulling me out of my head. He swerves the Escalade around another corner and picks up speed again, running through another red light.
I glance down at the scarf, which is now soaked with blood. “He’s passed out.”
“I’m going as fast as I can.”
I cradle Cutter’s head in my lap, brushing his hair back from his face. “Don’t you dare die on me,” I murmur again.
I breathe a sigh of relief when Daryl screeches to a halt on the Emergency Room ramp and jumps out yelling, “I need some help here!”
An ambulance is restocking next to us and the EMT runs over to the SUV. “What do you need?”
Daryl yanks open the back door. “He’s been stabbed.”
The EMT motions to his partner, who runs inside to get reinforcements.
Soon two orderlies are prying Cutter out of my arms and dropping him into wheelchair.
I watch helplessly as they wheel him away with Daryl on their heels.
I follow, staring around me like a shock victim.
They lift Cutter onto a gurney and start cutting back his clothes.
“You say he was stabbed?” a nurse asks Daryl. “When did this happen?”
“About twenty minutes ago,” Daryl replies.
I’m glad he answers because I can’t put together a coherent thought right now. “Is he going to be all right?” is the only thing running through my mind, and I realize I say that out loud when the nurse replies to me.
“We’ll do our best. You can wait outside or–”
“We’ll stay here, if that’s all the same to you,” Daryl interrupts.
She shrugs. “Suit yourself, but stay out of the way. We’ll probably be taking him up to surgery as soon as we get an OR.”
There are four people working on him, stripping back clothes, taking vitals, calling out numbers I don’t understand.
An IV is started. Gauze replaces the scarf.
People are running back and forth. A male orderly is talking to someone on the phone, then hangs up and turns around to announce, “They’re ready for us. ”
And then they’re wheeling him away again. Into the elevator. Beyond my sight.
“Can I get some information?” another woman with a tablet asks Daryl.
He looks as distracted as I feel. “What? Yeah, sure.”
He starts giving her Cutter’s name and other information. I tune them out, staring at the elevator while my mind loses itself in an endless loop.
What if he doesn’t make it? What if he dies, just like…?
No, he can’t. I just found him.
Why didn’t I walk out a minute earlier?
Why didn’t I ask him to stay the other night?
I’ve been unable to think about anything else since he left. Why him? Why did this man–this uptight, broken, straight man–find his way into my life? How did he manage to get inside when no one else has come close since that traumatic night?
“Did you hear me?”
I blink and realize the woman who was taking information from Daryl is talking to me. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I said, do you want to get cleaned up? There’s a bathroom at the end of the hall.”
Cleaned up? I look down at myself. Aside from my clothes, which are a lost cause, my hands are covered in blood. “Yeah, thanks.”
I glance at Daryl, who nods. “I’ll be in the waiting room.”
No matter how much I scrub, I can’t seem to get all the blood off my hands. It doesn’t help that I keep getting lost in my head. After going through half their supply of paper towels, I finally get most of the blood off. There’s still some under my fingernails, but it’ll do for now.
I find the surgical waiting room and take a seat next to Daryl, who’s typing something on his phone. There’s only one other person in the room, an elderly woman who looks like she’s been crying all day.
“Did they say how long he’ll be in surgery?” I ask Daryl.
“Depends on the damage. Did you see the guy who stabbed him?”
“Only from a distance. He ran away when I called out.” I close my eyes and lean my head back against the wall, suddenly exhausted. I didn’t get much sleep last night, thinking about the man currently clinging to life somewhere in this hospital, and it’s catching up with me now.
“Why did this happen? Was he targeted?” I look at him and am not imagining the guilt I see in his eyes. “You know something, don’t you?”
He blows out a long sigh. “We’re in the middle of hiring additional security.”
“Why?” I narrow my eyes at him. “What aren’t you telling me?”
It takes him a few minutes to speak again, like he’s trying to decide what to tell me. “I can’t be certain, but I believe the man who attacked Cutter was one of Scarponi’s men.”
I gape at him. “Scarponi? You mean the gangster?”
“You know him?”
I shake my head. “I know of him. My father had dealings with him a couple of times. As I recall, it wasn’t cordial. What does he have to do with you?”
“I’ve been thinking of expanding my business. Opening up another Eros in Boston. Scarponi has contacts there.”
“Please tell me you weren’t foolish enough to get into bed with him.”
He sighs again. “I was going to, then I changed my mind.”
I hold up my hand to him. “Say no more.” I may have just lost some respect for Daryl. How could a supposedly intelligent man even consider doing business with the mafia and think he could walk away without consequences? And now Cutter is paying for it.
“What are you going to do about this, because from where I’m sitting, it looks like the rest of us are in danger too.”
“I know. Believe me, I know. As soon as I’m sure Cutter is out of the woods, I’ll go talk to him. This has gone far enough.”
“You think that’s going to do any good at this point? Seems like he’s escalated beyond talking.”
“It’s all I’ve got.”
We’re both quiet for some time after that. Daryl goes back to his phone while I fight to keep my eyes open. Finally he looks up at me like he’s trying to solve a puzzle.
“What?” I ask.
“Is there something going on between you and Cutter?”
Really? Now? “What does that have to do with anything?”
“I thought I told you to leave him alone, Aubie. Cutter’s been through enough–”
“No,” I snap. “You do not get to lecture me on what’s best for Cutter when your bad judgment might have gotten him killed.”
I’ve never wanted to punch someone as much as I do right now, and I’m not a violent person.
The last thing I want to be doing right now is justifying my feelings for Cutter.
Feelings I’m not even supposed to have. Feelings that have been put to the test tonight.
All I know is when I saw him bleeding out my heart nearly stopped.
I can’t lose him.
Can’t bear the thought of this world without him in it.
The realization hits me like a ton of bricks.
I have feelings for Cutter Knight.
Strong feelings.
How did this happen? It was just supposed to be a one-off. A meaningless diversion like all the other ones.
I wasn’t supposed to want more. To crave him like I do.
I wasn’t supposed to go through this again. I had protections in place to guard against this very thing. That’s why no repeats.
And it was working.
Until he came along.
“I’m going to go see if I can get some information,” Daryl announces, standing.
Good luck with that, I don’t say. My experience with hospitals is they tell you what they want when they want to do it.
Bugging them won’t speed things along, but I can understand his need to be doing something.
I feel the same way, but I have no authority here.
He’s at least Cutter’s friend. His boss.
Me?
What am I to Cutter? A convenient lay? If he had a choice, would he even want me here?
After Daryl leaves, I pull out my phone and check my messages. There are two from Jimi, the last one sent an hour ago.
JIMI
I heard Cutter was stabbed and you were with him. Are you okay?
News travels fast around the club. I guess Daryl notified Izzy and it spiraled from there.
ME
Yeah, I’m fine. We’re at the hospital. Cutter is in surgery.
How bad is it?
No word yet. He’s been in there a while.
Did they catch the guy who did it?
He ran away as soon as I came out.
Jesus, this is scary. In our own parking lot. Do you think we’re in danger?
That’s a loaded question. I’m sure Daryl told me what he did in confidence, and while I’m worried about everyone else at the club, I don’t think he’d want me to start a panic.
Not sure. To be safe I’d stick with the buddy system.
Good idea. I gotta run. Keep me updated.
Will do.
I scroll through Instagram for something to do until Daryl comes back carrying two cups of coffee. He hands me one and sits down.
“Thanks,” I say, taking a sip. It’s black and strong, and while I’m a creamer guy, I welcome the jolt to my system. “You find out anything?”
He shakes his head. “Still in surgery.”
I don’t know if that’s good or bad, but at least he’s alive. “They’re kind of freaking out at the club.”
“Yeah,” he sighs. “I told Izzy to keep it quiet, but Javi had to file a police report, so you know how it is. Once the cops show up, the rumors start flying. I’m sure we’ll get a visit from them here soon. Surprised it’s taking them this long.”
“What are you going to tell them?”
“As much of the truth as I can. He was attacked in our parking lot. No one got a good look at the guy.”
“Are you going to implicate Scarponi?”
His look is almost apologetic. “We have no evidence it was him. I’m sure they’ve been through our footage and seen the same thing I did. An unknown man in a hoodie.”
“Did you see him get stabbed on video?”
“I saw the man grab him, they struggled, then the man ran away. By then I was on my way outside. How did you happen to be there?”
“I was leaving after my set. I knew something was wrong as soon as I stepped on the broken glass.”
I won’t go into the panic attack that almost caused. Me and broken glass are not friends. Not since…
No.
“When I saw him attack Cutter, I yelled.”
“It’s a good thing you did,” he says. “You probably saved his life.”
That remains to be seen, doesn’t it?