Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ezekiel
“This doesn’t seem right,” I park and get out of my car.
It’s already late and aside from a few cars I passed by on my way over, there isn’t anyone on the street. The diner across the street is supposed to be open, but all the lights are off and the neon sign in the front is flickering as if it hasn’t been used in ages.
I pull out the note from my pocket and reread the address, making sure I came to the right place.
For a moment I entertain the idea that maybe the guy on the phone gave the wrong address, but my GPS didn’t show another ‘Granny’s’ diner anywhere in town and there’s a Target just a block away from here, exactly as he said it would be.
“Hello?” I call out after crossing the street. “Looking for the pig in a blanket! Is anyone here?”
After Riley left my office earlier, I received a call from a payphone that Levi traced to be not very far from Eden.
The caller didn’t give me their name, but they swore to have valuable information.
They told me the code was “pig in a blanket” and that once I get to the diner, I should say the code in order to meet with them.
I expected it to be a working diner with customers and maybe a drunk dude in the corner booth, not what looks like an abandoned place in the middle of a very quiet street.
“Screw this,” I turn around to return to the car when I feel something heavy and metal crash against my back.
For a brief moment I can’t move from the pain, but I pull myself together just on time to evade the next hit. The heavy metal pipe falls to the asphalt making a clatter.
“Big mistake,” I crack my neck twice, still feeling the aftermath of that hit, before I lunge at my attacker, knocking him to the ground.
I don’t even need to pull out my gun, he stands no chance against me. I drive my fist into his face, my body pinning him to the ground. He tries fighting back, but he looks more like a bug trying to get back on its feet.
“Who sent you?” With my hands on his neck, he struggles to breathe, so I let him loose just enough to be able to answer. He stays quiet, forcing me to bang his head on the pavement once again. “Who. Sent. You.”
“Fuck off.” The guy starts laughing as if he’s just won something, and before I can smash his head completely, I feel something heavy jump on my back. Whoever it is, he must be a lot bigger than this guy because there aren’t many people strong enough to knock me down.
This one manages to, before getting on top of me.
I feel his fists on my face, my blood boiling.
I don’t want to interrogate them anymore.
Yes, they probably have valuable information and questioning them would be a smart move as they’ve clearly been sent here by someone to ambush me.
But I also know that the chances of them speaking at this rate, are really small.
So I don’t wait around, I pull the knife from my ankle sheath and stab the bigger guy.
He fights back, strong enough to challenge me.
The other guy is back on his feet and he rushes towards us.
I don’t have enough time to react. A sharp pain explodes between my ribs as if something incredibly sharp and unpolished was just forced into my body.
Instead of keeping me down, this only makes me angrier. I sucker punch the weaker guy, using the small knife to cut his throat open. His body falls to the ground with a wet thud.
Before the other guy gets another chance to knock me down, I circle him, grabbing him in a chokehold. He does his best to shake me off, but I’ve done this more times than I can count, I know how to incapacitate someone when I want to.
I continue squeezing until he goes completely limp, then watch the life leave his body. I only let him go once I’m sure he’s stopped breathing. He falls to the ground immediately, not an ounce of life left in him.
“No one lives to attack Ezekiel Kavanagh and tell the tale.” I wipe the blood from my face and dial Elijah’s phone. “Hello?”
“I need you to take care of something.” I quickly fill in my brother about the ambush. “They’re at the address I just sent you.”
“I’m on it,” he says from the other side of the line. “Is the wound deep?”
“He’s dead, what does it matter?”
“I’m talking about your wound, smart-ass!” Elijah is probably the only person who gets to call me a smart-ass without me ripping them to pieces and turning them into dog food.
“It’s fine,” I suppress another sharp pang coming from my ribs. “Nothing a little alcohol can’t solve… Maybe for the wound too.”
“Okay, but you need to stop being reckless and get that checked out.”
“Elijah, this isn’t my first time getting stabbed,” I point out. I mean, just a few weeks ago we ended up stabbing each other during a training session. “I’ll be okay.”
“If you don’t go and see a doctor tonight, I will bring one to your house.” His voice is determined. “Do you want to act like a child in front of our brothers?”
“Fine,” I roll my eyes. “There’s a hospital near here.”
I know how worried my brother is and how much losing our parents has affected him. When I told him about the potential clue that this mysterious guy was offering, he warned me not to come alone. I didn’t listen and it got me injured. The least I can do tonight is to see a doctor for Elijah.
“Good, I’ll take care of the rest.”
When I arrive at the hospital, the ER is crowded with patients and I immediately regret not going straight home instead. One of the nurses approaches me as soon as I set foot inside.
“It’s just a small cut,” I force myself to smile politely. “I think it should be good after it gets disinfected.”
She nods, listening to my made-up story about how someone tried to mug me and tells me to follow her into one of the rooms. “You can wait here and someone will come to take a look in a few minutes.”
Once she’s gone, I struggle not to lie down on the hospital bed. The pain has gotten worse and I feel the skin around the cut pulsing strongly, as if it has a heart of its own.
“Ugh…” A sigh escapes me when I try to apply pressure.
There is a heavily burnt man in the room next to mine. I focus on him, hoping it will make my own pain more bearable. The rooms in the ER are walled with glass and I can see everything that’s going on outside.
One of the nurses applies something on the man’s almost black arm and he winces. He is heavily sedated and I don’t even want to know what type of pain he is experiencing if he’s still feeling it despite all the pain meds they gave him.
In the other room I see a kid around seven years old. I’m not usually around children so I find it hard to tell their age. The kid has a big scratch on his knee and he’s crying loud enough to make me wish there was an electric saw between us to block out the sound.
“Fuck it,” I pick up my jacket from the bed and jump to my feet, ready to leave, but as soon as I stand, my vision gets blurry and I feel dizzy.
Maybe I can wait a little longer.
That’s when I spot her. Riley. What is she doing here?
She’s treating the little boy and whatever she is saying to him, it makes the kid stop crying. Riley treats his scratch with a big, cheerful smile on her face, all along talking to him about something the boy seems to show a lot of interest in.
When she’s finished, she pulls out a lollipop from her pocket and hands it to the boy. He wraps his little arms around her and then walks out of the room with his mom.
After the that, I watch Riley attend another patient in the ER, showing the same patience and care she did with the little boy. She is full of love while doing it.
“What do we have here?” She walks in holding a clipboard and the moment our eyes meet, she freezes in place. The casual, hospital-grade smile dies on her face. “Hi.”
“Didn’t expect to see me at your second job? I didn’t know you worked in a hospital.” I try to laugh but a sharp pain cuts through my side, cutting me off forcefully. I hiss through my teeth.
“Yes,” she says, her voice a little tighter than before. She sets the clipboard at the foot of the bed, though her eyes don’t leave my face. “But technically, my job at Eden is my second job. This is my main job.”
“Either way,” I slowly straighten myself so she can get a clear look at the damage, hesitating for a fraction of a second before pulling my shirt up. “I’m equally surprised to run into you.”
“Figured that out by the look in your eyes,” she murmurs. She is trying to sound clinical, but she stares a little longer than she is supposed to at my exposed abdomen. Her gaze tracks the line of my ribs right down to where the blood starts.
“Like what you see?” I flexing the muscles just to see her reaction, but the sudden movement pulls at the torn flesh, and a grunt escapes me.
Damn it.
“It looks even better when there's no blood.”
“I bet,” she swallows hard, trying to keep her cool, but a faint, betraying pink starts creeping up her neck. “How did you get this? It’s really nasty.”
“You know how it is,” I don’t look away from her, tracking the rapid flutter of the pulse on her neck, even though she’s doing her best to avoid eye contact. “It’s a dangerous city. Someone tried to mug me.”
She raises an eyebrow, finally looking me directly in the eyes.
Fuck.
The moment her gaze locks with mine, an involuntary image of her dropping her bra to the floor, flashes in front of my eyes. I find myself wondering how she would look wearing nothing underneath that sterile white coat. Just her, her bare skin, and my hands tracing every line of her body.
“So someone attacked you?” Her voice is almost a whisper when she speaks but she’s still doing her best to sound professional. “Because I would need to make a report if this was an assault.”
“I don’t think you want to do that,” my voice goes cold, dropping into that quiet power that usually makes people step back. I don’t leave her enough room to even consider reporting any of this.