Chapter Two
WES
My arm throbbed. I counted myself lucky, though, that the gunshot hadn’t been worse as I ran through the pelting rain toward my car a few blocks away.
I knew leaving the way I had wasn’t the wise thing to do.
I should’ve just waited for the ambulance to arrive and gone to the hospital to have them remove the bullet I could still feel inside my arm.
But as soon as the man who’d wrestled the gun away from the robber had turned his back on me, I’d bolted.
Parting with the Charger to settle my mother’s medical bills and pay the mortgage hanging over both our heads during her illness had been bittersweet.
I loved the car but giving her peace of mind in her final days, had been much more important to me.
The money had been just enough to hold onto the house until she took her final breath in a hospital bed set up in the front room.
It was where she could look out at the garden she adored and wave to friends passing by.
I shook my head to rid it of painful memories as I reached the car.
I opened the tailgate, rifling through boxes to look for my mom’s medical kit as my arm throbbed.
I smiled as I found the worn metal box and pulled it out, laying it on the tailgate.
Just as I remembered, she’d packed it with bandages and antibiotic ointment.
I grabbed those, some scissors, and an ACE bandage to wrap my arm after I could get a good look at what I was dealing with.
I let myself into the car, out of the rain.
Sitting was a relief and if things went my way, I’d be able to avoid the hospital entirely.
I laid the items I’d gathered on the bench seat beside me and opened my glove compartment, pulling out my hunting knife.
It was one of the few treasures I’d kept after having to pack up my meager belongings and vacate the house we no longer owned.
I shrugged out of my jacket with difficulty and took a look at the wound in my left arm.
The bullet had gone through my jacket as well as a flannel shirt I’d picked up at Goodwill, but I shrugged out of it too, disappointed but not devastated by the loss of the clothing.
The chill on my bare skin was to be expected, but I ignored the cold as I examined the seeping wound. I took a deep breath and grabbed a piece of gauze before pressing down over the skin to see if I could feel how deep the bullet was. Maybe if it wasn’t deep, I could— “Fuckkk...”
I slammed my eyes shut as my head hit the headrest and spots swam before them.
Gritting my teeth, I realized how stupid digging a bullet out of my own arm was.
What the fuck am I doing? I was a total idiot.
A couple of my mother’s Band-Aids and some Neosporin wasn’t going to be enough to fight off infection.
It really was foolish to think I could do this on my own.
I concentrated on my breathing, holding onto the gauze for a few more seconds and then lifted my hand.
The gauze stuck to the wound as I knew it would.
Blood was already seeping right through.
I picked up the ACE bandage and began wrapping it, knowing I’d be making a visit to the closest hospital after I rested a bit so I could drive.
I had no choice but to face the wrath of the LAPD for leaving the store and not waiting for the ambulance.
All I could do was pray they wouldn’t fuck up my chances of passing the background check for my new job.
I pulled my shirt and coat back on before closing up the medical kit and storing my knife.
I wiped my forehead, noting the sweat that had gathered during my efforts, thinking how stupid I’d been.
If pressing on the wound hurt this bad, how awful would it be if I tried to dig it out with Dad’s hunting knife?
I surprised myself with a laugh and shook my head.
I really was an idiot. Exhaustion took hold of me as I bundled the damp clothing closer and closed my eyes. Just for a few minutes.
I bolted upright, my eyes popping open with a start as I looked toward the station wagon’s window.
A man—a familiar man—was tapping on the glass.
I blinked several times, noting the smile as he said something which was muffled with the window between us.
I shook my head as my memories came rushing back.
This was the same stranger who’d been in the store where I’d been shot.
I looked around, expecting—I don’t know what—perhaps a bunch of cops, all with their guns drawn, pointing them at me.
My imagination ran away with me at times.
Instead, the street where I’d parked the aging Chrysler was absent of anything but the occasional leaf as it was propelled end over end by the breeze dancing down the street in search of a gutter. At least the rain had let up.
“Open the window, mate!” the man said, speaking louder. The same Irish brogue I’d heard before was pleasing as it rolled off his tongue.
I sat up straight, then winced as my arm began to throb again. Sun beat down through the windshield, and I reached across my body and rolled down the window since my other arm hurt like a mother.
“How did you find me?” I don’t know what made that important or why he’d come looking for me.
“Why don’t ya come out here so we can have a wee chat?”
I was confused. “Are you here to arrest me?”
He laughed, shaking his head as he stepped back with his hands on both hips. “What should I be arrestin’ ya for, eejit?” When I said nothing, he sighed. “No, I’ve not come to arrest ya, just to say ya deserve a good thumpin’ for leavin’ the shop and not waitin’ for the bloody ambulance.”
I sighed. “I couldn’t take a chance on that,” I replied, looking up at him.
“Why don’t ya get out of the car so we can talk?” he repeated. “I feel like a right na-na standin’ here lookin’ down atcha.”
I studied him for a few moments before nodding.
“Okay.” I winced as I reached for the door handle.
He instantly grabbed it, opening it for me.
“Thank you,” I muttered, begrudging the fact he knew I was in pain even though I’d tried to hide it.
I got out of the car and closed the protesting door with a loud squeak.
When I turned to look at him, he was holding out his hand.
“Patsy Good.”
I narrowed my eyes but took his hand, noting how warm it was as I shook it. “Chaudry.”
“Nice to meet ya in better circumstances, Chaudry.”
I sighed. “So, now what?”
He grinned and I noticed how it made his blue eyes dance merrily.
He had nice eyes, and I forced myself to look away, glancing around the street.
The sun was out, making the wet streets shine brightly.
Just looking at them made my head pound.
I wished I had sunglasses. Moreover, I didn’t want to think about the way my breath was coming out in puffs of steam in the cold air even though it was sunny and my body felt too hot to be normal.
“I’ll be takin’ ya to hospital.”
I shook my head. “I can’t go to the hospital.”
“Holy Mother of God, ya were shot, mate. Ya need to go to the quack who’ll check ya for a bullet. Judgin’ by ya flushed skin and I expect, hot to the touch, yer runnin’ a fever, Weston.”
I narrowed my eyes. “How do you know my first name?”
He grinned, making dimples appear in his cheeks as his eyes danced. “Raj and Rami told me and I have a likin’ to callin’ ya Weston instead of Chaudry.” When I opened my mouth to argue, he held up his hand to stop me. “Come on now. Let me take ya to hospital.”
“I can’t go.”
“Jay-sus, yer pigheaded.” He frowned.
I felt myself smirk. “So, I’ve been told.”
He looked side to side then down at his shoes before finally sighing. “Fine then. I’ll buy ya brekky, and you’ll sit yerself down and tell me why ya left before gettin’ seen by the quack. I’m not leavin’ until I know yer okay.”
I shook my head. “No, that’s not—”
“It’s not a suggestion, Weston.” He peered around me to look at the car before cutting me off. When he looked back, his expression was softer and more serious. “Have ya been livin’ here then? I’m guessin’ ya could do with the calories in order to heal.”
I turned around to look at the car, flushing with embarrassment as I looked back at him, shrugging.
I knew he was right. I would have to have food if my arm was going to heal properly and what little I had stored in the car, wasn’t going to be enough.
My meager savings, two hundred dollars, was every penny I had and I’d have to make it stretch until I got a paycheck.
I’d had no idea how things worked until I found myself in these circumstances.
It had certainly been a humbling eye-opener.
The church was very good to me, and I could make McDonald’s sandwiches go a long way but some days, I just couldn’t face it.
The dollar stores were also a godsend but without cooking facilities, it was hard to eat proper food.
The same for eating ramen and the occasional hard-boiled egg, though, nothing sounded good at the moment. “All right.”
“So, you’ll let me take ya for some grub and then hospital?”
I frowned, knowing I had no other option. “I’m not a duck,” I spat out.
He sighed deeply and opened his hands in the universal gesture for “what the fuck.”
“Grub, quack…”
He burst out laughing, the blue eyes twinkling again.
“Food, the doc. Doctor,” he amended. “I’ve got a wee bit of an accent.” He grinned again.
I closed my eyes feeling foolish. My arm throbbed and the heated way my body felt, even standing here in the cold of winter, told me an infection was setting in. “Okay, yes, but I’ll need to change out of this coat.” I looked down at the bullet hole, stained with blood.
“Aye, sun’s out, but it’s enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey. You’ll be needin’ somethin’ warm.”