Page 3 of Havik: Warlord Brides
“Drinking on the job? Must have learned that trick from Doc,” Blade said. He jerked his head to the door, and the other man went to fetch the towels.
“It ain’t for me,” she said. Not that she had to explain herself to anyone but Nicky.
The back door banged open, bringing in a draft of cold air.
Speak of the devil.
“He needs a hospital,” Thalia said, moving Nathan to rest on his back again.
“Not an option,” Nicky said, elbowing past her. He leaned over his wounded friend, his black wool coat falling open and the ends of his scarf brushing against the bleeding wound.
Thalia bit her lip to hold in her snarky comments about no one caring to keep the wound clean. “The bullet is still in there.”
“Then get it out.”
“With what? My fingers?” Thalia held up one bloody gloved hand. “He needs to go to the hospital.”
Towels arrived and she pressed one to the wound, leaning forward with all her weight.
Nicky frowned, his demeanor shifting from concerned to cold. “Mitchell would patch him up, no questions asked.”
Thalia shivered, afraid to anger Nicky. Somehow, she found her voice. “Doc went to medical school, but he wouldn’t be able to do much with the bullet somewhere in that mess. I’m not qualified here at all.”
“Didn’t I send you to him to learn? Are you telling me that I should have sent your stuck-up ass to walk the streets?”
Thalia shook her head. Blade snickered, no doubt loving Nicky putting her in her place. He just needed a bucket of popcorn to go with the look of utter glee on his big, dumb face. “He’s lost a lot of blood too. He needs a transfusion.”
“Do it. I’ll have one of the boys donate.”
“I need equipment, an IV, a PICC, and I don’t even know Nathan’s blood type. The wrong one will kill him. Please, Nicky, he has to go to the hospital.”
“If I get you the equipment?” He had out his phone, already typing orders. Brand new medical equipment would arrive in minutes if she asked for it.
“I don’t know how to use it. Doc never did anything like that. I’d have to read up and Nathan doesn’t have that kind of time.”
Nicky fixed her with his cold blue gaze. His eyes were empty. Soulless. She swallowed but did not flinch or look away. Tougher guys than her had caved to that heartless stare. “Tallie, Tallie, Tallie,” he said, drawing out her name. She hated that nickname. “Doc’s only been in the ground for three weeks and you’ve done nothing but tell me no.”
Her eyes fell to the floor, all submission, and she whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“You tell me ‘I don’t know how to do this’ and ‘I don’t have the tools,’” he said, pitching his voice in a mockingly high tone. Blade and the other meathead snickered. “Did you learn anything from Mitchell, or did he just keep you around to suck his cock?”
She flinched. It hadn’t been like that with Doc. At all. Doc had been, if not a good man, a decent man. Decent in his own way, at least.
Thalia lifted her eyes. Doc taught her a lot, but he also taught her to know her limitations. “If I dig around in Nathan for that bullet, I’d be going in blind. He will die. If I pack the wound with the stuff the military uses to stop the bleeding so we can take him to the hospital, he could live.”
Nathan circled the table, his hands making a mess of his hair. Calmly, too calmly, he took off his well-tailored suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. The leather of the shoulder holster contrasted sharply with the brilliant white of the shirt. There was no missing the matte black metal or the glowing green lights of the illegal blaster in the holster. “I want to believe you, Tallie, but if I take my friend to the hospital, they’ll put a chip in his head. The government will be able totrackhim. That’s how they found Doc, because of the damn translation chip the aliens put in his head.”
All the stuff she had heard before. During the Invasion, when Thalia had been scrounging for food, Doc had still been a licensed, respectable member of the medical community. He worked in a refugee camp and had been fitted up with a translation chip that allowed him to talk to the alien allies. Mahdfel. Whatever.
Nicky couldn’t seem to let the idea of an implanted chip go. She got it. Really. Having a piece of hardware shoved into your brain that altered the way you processed language seemed bizarre. Unhealthy.
Keeping pressure on the wound, she glanced at her bag. The expanding foam compound was in the front pocket. If she used it without permission, Nicky might take Nathan to the hospital.
Or he might punish her for defying him. She never knew if she would get Reasonable Nicky or Punisher Nicky.
That wasn’t completely true. Punisher Nicky had taken up permanent residence since Doc’s murder. He struggled to maintain his control over his business, but younger, hungrier rivals kept coming.
“A man should have privacy in his own home. In hismind.” Nicky’s delivery grew more hurried and more erratic. Blade and meathead shared a look.
