Page 71 of Damascus & The Wildfire
I threw my head back and laughed, holding my side where the stitches pulled. “Yeah, sorry about that. I needed a ride to clear my head. I didn’t realize the local wildlife would ignore the road crossing signs.”
His humor softened, voice dipping. “Kenna was worried. She blames herself.”
That wiped the grin off my face. “Shit.” My chest tightened. “I didn’t even think of that.” I rubbed a palm over my face, my fingers lingering in the rough stubble of my short beard. “Where is she? I should talk to her.”
“Merci took her to get coffee.” Merrick pulled out his phone and typed a quick message. “They’ll be back in a few.”
“Since we’ve got a minute …” I paused, taking a bite of another taco. “Are you ready for the sitdown in Fort Worth?”
Merrick nodded. “I think so. I’ve spent a lot of time wrangling Serpent and Jag. The last thing we need is for them to piss off the consigliere.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle, but it came out rough with the stitches in my side. “If it goes well, it’ll be a windfall for the club. I’m going to need the money after all of this. Mafia’s got the hardware we asked for?”
“Fresh shipment,” Merrick said with a nod. “Not the usual stash, either. Automatics, some custom jobs, and even a few grenade launchers. Serious heat. That’s why Thane’s having us facilitate the deal. High risk, high reward.”
“Damn.” I whistled. “Wish I could be there to get my hands on a fucking grenade launcher. Think I can still get my cut even though I’m laid up?”
“We got you. With this deal, everybody’s getting a cut, assuming Jag doesn’t pull some stupid shit and piss off the mafia boss. And Merci is moving some things around in your record, so your bill won’t be nearly as high as you might think.”
Thank fuck for that. Without insurance, I’d be up a creek—and I already had shit credit to begin with.
Merrick grinned, but his eyes stayed tight with worry. “You just focus on not dying.”
I raised my taco in a sarcastic toast, wincing but grinning anyway. “To not dying.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Merci led me through the labyrinthine corridors of the hospital. Clipped footsteps and the steady beeping of distant monitors trailed us until she ducked us into a tucked-away café. The air shifted instantly—from bright lights and an antiseptic sting to the cozy hum of espresso machines and low chatter.
The barista, a bored-looking guy with a mohawk and a silver lip ring, took our order and set about making two lattes.
Merci led me to a corner table, the surface scratched but clean.
I leaned back in my chair. “How long have you been a doctor?”
She smiled sheepishly. “I’m barely a doctor. I’m an intern. I just graduated from med school. I got lucky landing this residency so close to home.”
“You’re a lot younger than your brother,” I observed.
She laughed. The bright sound eased the awkwardness between us. “Fifteen years. I was a surprise.”
The barista called our names. We retrieved the steaming cups and returned to our seats.
“Enough about me.” Merci tried to school her face into a serious expression. “What are your intentions with my brother?”
We burst into a fit of laughter. A woman reading a thick tome at the table beside us threw us an annoyed glare.
Merci tapped the table impatiently with her fingers. “Seriously, though. I can already tell he’s different around you. Lighter. Is it serious?”
I chewed the inside of my cheek. “It’s new. We’ve been friends for a while now, and I only realized there was something more right before Hatchet crashed.” Guilt twisted in my gut. “He crashed because of me. God, I feel so bad.”
“What do you mean? He hit a deer on his bike.” Merci raised a brow. “Are you Snow White? Do you give orders to the creatures of the forest?”
I huffed a laugh. “Hatchet tore off on his bike after I told him that I’d felt nothing when he kissed me.”
“Wait. Hatchet kissed you? Where does Merrick come into play then?”
I covered my face with my hands and shook my head. “Hatchet kissed me, and I felt nothing. So I ordered Merrick to kiss me.”
