Page 24 of Iron Hearts

I told him, knowing full well the line was being recorded, “Someplace safe. I’m good, P. Let the lawyers do their thing and give ‘em hell.”

“Right,” he said. “I’m getting looks. They took the Scorpions left standing to the county lockup. We’re in city lockup for Ormond Beach.”

“Smart,” I said.

“Certainly wasn’t dumb,” he said with a chuckle.

“Any of our boys hurt bad?” I asked.

“Cuts and bruises mostly,” he said. “Nothing super serious for either Jacksonville or Ocala. They took Enigma and Switch to the hospital. Switch has something broken in his hand or arm. I didn’t get a clear answer on that. Enigma was out cold, so they took his unconscious ass for scans to make sure he didn’t lose too many brain cells. I saw it happen. I’m pretty sure he’s gonna be fine.”

“Good, good,” I said.

“We’ll see if they turn up here or if they turn them loose directly from the hospital.”

“Okay,” I said.

There was an indistinct voice on the other end of the line, and Renegade grunted. “That’s my cue. Gotta go.”

“Talk at you later,” I said, and the line went dead.

I brought my head up at the sound of inconsolable weeping from out the way that I had to presume was the living room, and I worried for a minute that it was Rarity.

“You’re my firstborn and my only girl!” came a raised voice. “Of course, I worry!”

“I know, I know!” I heard from the door across from Rarity’s bed and guessed that she had to be in the kitchen or something. A guess that was confirmed by the kitchen tap turning on and then off.

Shit.

I wanted to talk to her and find out what the plan was on her end, but I couldn’t do shit about fuck without diming her and myself out. She’d earned not only my respect but my patience and silence as well.

I pulled the washcloth away from my stomach and looked. I was still bleeding, but it had slowed considerably. While I didn’t have access to anyone who could suture the wound, I could get by with some butterfly stitches or super glue to hold shit together.

I went back into the bathroom and slowly, carefully, and quietly opened up the first-aid kit to see what I had access to – no glue, but gauze, disinfectant, and a shit ton of band-aids. There was antibiotic ointment, burn cream, a chemical ice pack, a chemical hot pack, andBINGO… butterfly bandages.

It was hard as fuck staying quiet and standing far enough back from the mirror and yet close enough to see what the fuck I was doing.

There was no realsweet spotto do both, and it made for a difficult time using one hand to pinch the edges of the wound that gaped the most together while I used the other to affix a bandage and get it tight enough to actually be fuckin’ useful.

I have no idea how long I was at it or how many I wasted trying to get it right.

The women’s voices outside the bathroom door shifted from the living room to the kitchen while I worked, trying to concentrate, and eventually, she came in her bedroom door while I edged further into the bathroom, waiting on her.

“Yeah, Mom?” she called over her shoulder, looking past the open door across to what I had to presume was another.

“I love you, too,” she said in response to whatever her mother said, but I couldn’t make it out.

She came fully into her room and closed the door, her shoulders dropping and her breath coming harshly as she threw the tiny tab of a lock on the inside of the doorknob.

“Help me with this, would you?” I asked.

She turned to me and said, “Yeah, sorry.”

“All good,” I said.

She frowned and said, “Come lay down so I can do this. There’s no way am I getting on my knees.”

I snorted softly. “Afraid I’d bust out the sexual innuendo?” I asked.

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