Page 70 of The Last Grift
“Motherfucker,”Gabriel hissed. He released the flat metal tool he’d borrowed from Elton that he’d been using to scrape the last of the gross unknown off the countertop in theTicket’s galley. Instinctively, he tried to shake the pain away, but it didn’t work. The paint-splattered instrument had slipped in Gabe’s grip and jabbed directly into the fleshy part underneath his left thumb instead of under goo like it was supposed to.
“Fucking hurts.”
He was still tired and strung out from the shooting and probably shouldn’t have been employing simple, but sharp, tools.
“The damn boat is determined to kill me.” Reluctantly, he examined the injury. Wounds were not his favorite thing, especially if they were his. Other people’s? No big deal.
Blood pearled from the cut and dripped slowly down his wrist, but it didn’t seem deep enough for a visit to the medical center. He did not want to go back there, especially after whathad happened last Friday night. A Band-Aid would be fine. Which was in the first aid kit in the Minnow, along with the topical antibiotic. He sighed.
He tore off a paper towel from one of the rolls Elton had gifted him last week and pressed the sheet against his palm, holding it in place with his other hand. Gabe bounced from foot to foot, checking every few seconds to see if the bleeding had stopped. It didn’t take long to turn into a weak dribble, which he considered a win.
Yep, no need for urgent care. Dr. Karne is on the job.
“Still hurts though.”
Why did injuries like this hurt more when it was cold out? It wasn’t raining at the moment, but temperatures had dropped again and hovered just above freezing. The space heater Gabe had bought yesterday at a local hardware store seemed to be doing its job. At least it was taking the edge off so he’d managed to sleep comfortably enough. He’d checked out of Casa Elton just yesterday but would return for showers and laundry. And morning coffee.
Admit it, you miss Elton already, Chance.
Fine, he did. But there was still the issue of the Colavitos. So for now, it was best to move on. Or down the street anyway.
A hard thump he had no problem recognizing had Gabe scowling across at the causeway. He and Ranger Man had a truce of sorts, but the man still managed to piss him off. No doubt it was mutual.
“Karne, you in there?”
“Where else the fuck would I be?” The ache in his hand was making him cranky.
The Minnow was parked next to the boatshed. Did he think Gabriel had left it there and wandered off? It wasn’t as if he had a spare ATV sitting around like Elton did.
“Mind if I come aboard?”
Gabe was immediately suspicious. What could Lundin want? But he had no logical reason to refuse.
“I suppose I can’t stop you.”
The boat shifted in the water as Ranger Man stepped onto the deck, and Gabriel leaned his hip against the counter for support. Seconds later, Lundin was in the cabin, taking up the remaining space and more. His sharp gaze homed in on the bloody paper towel.
Without asking permission—apparently, that was reserved for boarding sailboats—he grabbed Gabriel’s injured hand and unwrapped it.
“Jesus, Karne, have you cleaned that out yet?” Lundin managed to sound truly concerned.
Gabriel made a show of looking around the small space. “Does it look like it? I’d be likely to get sepsis using anything that was left here.” He retracted his hand. “And my first aid kit is in my car, so no.”
“I’ve got one. Stay here, I’ll be right back.”
Gabriel stayed put, unsure just where he’d go anyway, unless to Elton’s. Fading footsteps were followed by a thunking sound and then the process was repeated in reverse. Casey reappeared, followed by Bowie this time, carrying a red plastic case about the size of a car battery.
Setting it on the counter, he popped the latches and opened the box, which Gabriel knew was a well-stocked first aid kit even without seeing inside.
“Hold your hand out,” Casey ordered.
“Nice bedside manner there, Ranger Man.”
A snort was followed with, “Surely, you don’t still think you’re the first person to come up with that? Literal nine-year-olds usually, but hey, you do you.”
“Are you saying?—”
“Yes, I am saying you act like a nine-year-old. Working forthe park, I have plenty of experience with them over the summer months, believe me.”
