Page 82 of Damascus & The Wildfire
She didn’t hesitate. One hand pressed hard against my wound, and the other fumbled for her phone. Her voice was surprisingly steady as she spoke to dispatch. The ambulance screeched to a halt minutes later. Paramedics swarmed us, and Kenna clung to my uninjured hand as they loaded me onto a gurney.
“I’m riding with him,” she insisted to the paramedics.
I squeezed her fingers. “I’ll be fine, doll. This isn’t even the worst gunshot I’ve had. Not even in the top three.”
The look on her face told me that it wasn’t as comforting as I thought it’d be.
The ER doors flew open as the paramedics wheeled me in, fluorescent lights as blinding as the midday sun had been outside.
Merci stood, arms crossed. “Back so soon, Hatchet?”
I groaned, but a laugh escaped through the pain. “Thought you might enjoy more practice on GSW patients. Wanted to make sure you didn’t get bored.”
She snorted, falling into step beside the gurney. “Get this asshole to Trauma 1,” she ordered a fellow intern. Her tone softened as she glanced at Kenna. “You OK?”
Kenna nodded, though her knuckles were white where she gripped the rail.
Merci’s eyes flicked to the wound on my side, professional and sharp. “Clean entry and exit. You’re lucky, idiot.”
Kenna hovered in the doorway, her face pale. Merci waved her in. “You can sit with him while we get this cleaned up. I’ll get a nurse to bring you a scrub top. It was smart to use your shirt to staunch the bleeding.”
As the docs worked, Kenna never left my side. Her hand stayed in mine, her thumb tracing circles on my skin. Merci kept up a steady stream of dry commentary, helping Kenna laugh through the tension.
As Merci left the room, she gave me a long look. “Rest. And try not to get shot again between now and your next discharge. The cops will probably be in shortly to take your statement.”
Kenna’s phone dinged. “It’s Fuse,” she said. “I’m going to step out and update him. Do you need anything?”
I gave her a lopsided grin. “I’m good. Just try not to get in trouble between here and the waiting room. Merci will be pissed if I rip these stitches.”
Her lips twitched as she slipped out. I let my head fall back against the pillow. The adrenaline had burned off, leaving nothing behind but fire in my side and the hollow ache you only notice when the fight’s over.
Kenna had been seconds away from—fuck, I couldn’t even let myself finish the thought. Another loss like that? I’m not sure Merrick would survive it. He was my brother, my oldest friend, my family. Losing her would’ve gutted him worse than any bullet ever could. Hell, it would’ve gutted me, too.
Bruised ribs, busted stitches, hole in my side—small price. Better me than leaving Merrick hollowed out again. He couldn’t live with another ghost.
I exhaled slowly, trying to let the pain drown out the thought clawing at the back of my skull: what if we hadn’t made it in time?
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I dug my phone out of my saddlebag. The screen lit up with a barrage of missed calls—Fuse, Kenna, Hatchet—and a single, brief text from Fuse that sent a cold spike of dread straight through my gut.
Fuse:
Kenna’s safe. Hatchet is back in hospital. GSW. Call me.
A roar of fury tore from my throat. The consigliere of the Fort Worth Mafia had insisted on a closed-door meeting with us and the Red Rock Riot. No distractions, no phones—protocol for these kinds of deals.
Reaper and Thane looked up, their expressions hardening as they caught the storm in my eyes.
“What happened?” Reaper asked, already moving toward his bike.
“I don’t fucking know,” I growled, my voice barely controlled. My hands shook as I dialed Fuse, thumb jabbing the call button. He answered on the first ring.
“Merrick,” Fuse said, his voice steady but edged with tension.
“Talk,” I demanded, thumbing the speaker on so Thane and Reaper could hear.
“Kenna was followed downtown. You were right. The Jackals were watching her. Waiting for her to be alone,” Fuse said, his words clipped. “She hid in a construction site, called me when she realized she was being tracked. Hatchet and I got there just as the guy found her. Hatchet took a bullet to the side. I put the guy down. Wiped my prints from the weapon and left it with Hatchet. He ordered me to get out of there, so I didn’t land back in the pen.”
