14. Julian
Julian
My feet barely lift off the floor as I drag myself into the bathroom.
I’ve stitched five members of a gang, closed a bullet wound that hit an artery, and even performed surgery on their dog’s leg within three hours.
The dog injury was unrelated to the others.
I’m not even a licensed vet, but I know how to triage and save limbs, bones, and lives.
He was a cute puppy, too, so I couldn't help it.
God, I miss her. It’s so quiet here. I hate it.
My shoulder rams into the wall with a force I never saw coming. An arm crashes across my collarbone and pins me by the throat. Cool metal presses hard against my temple.
“Calm down. I’m here to talk.”
“People that want to talk usually use a phone,” I say.
My pulse slams against the pressure on my neck. I force my eyes to focus on the face inches from mine. I know it. It’s been burned into my brain for months. I’ve pictured this man with my girl in ways that still make me psychotic.
“Well get on with it then. Use the gun or fuck off,” I grit through my teeth. I shouldn’t antagonize him, but like I said, psychotic.
“Lee needs help. She’s in so fucking deep that if we don’t help her…”
He lets off my chest just enough to give me an opening. I knee him in the gut, and he folds forward. It’s enough for me to slam my head against his and see him wince with the crack of our skulls. With a hard shove, I have enough room to step away from his hold.
I swipe at the gun, but even in his daze, he’s fast. The barrel swings back up and points on my chest.
I’m fairly sure if he wanted me dead, I already would be. I still hate the guy.
“You could have broken my nose, asshole," he says, rubbing the spot where I slammed into him.
My own head is pounding, but I keep my face blank. “You deserve worse.”
His brows knit together, but he shakes his head like he’s trying to clear his thoughts.
“I love her,” I tell him unafraid to share my feelings for some unknown reason. Of all people, I don’t know why I say it out loud to him.
“Yeah,” he whispers, almost like a confession or an apology. He’s hard to read.
“Well, you won. Why are you here?”
He holds his hands up, fingers splayed like a peace offering. Then he lowers the gun before slipping it into the back of her jeans.
“Lee’s been working against the FBI. She’s been stealing, exposing people, and hacking into fucking everything. It’s a nightmare. I’ve tried to find a way to cover it up or at the very least blame someone else,” he says and throws his hands up in frustration.
“There is no walking away from this. If they catch her, she’s going to be found guilty. I’m talking an island of solitary, with the exception of torture. She won’t survive.”
The desperation on his face makes me consider his words. The man she killed in her house must have been part of whatever she’s mixed up in.
“Why is she doing this?” I ask. “I’m biased because I’m crazy about her, but I never saw her as an evil terrorist type…”
He exhales, long and tired. “Will you help her? It might drag you down with her. With us.”
I look him up and down. We are quite opposite. He’s got that surfer golden hair thing going on. In contrast to my olive skin and beard. Is that why she went for him? Someone completely different.
“Tell me what you propose.”
“Is that a yes?”
My blood runs cold at the thought of not being what she wanted.
“Yes.”
We stare at each other, and then he nods at me in understanding. We’re both willing to do anything for her.