Page 58 of It's Going to Be a Chrome Christmas
His anger was rising, and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like how she was acting, what she was saying. “It’s not a matter of trust,” he snapped. “I’m not leaving you alone with that guy!”
“And I am telling you that you need to.” Her phone dinged. “That’s your ride.” She pulled a shirt out of his duffel and threw it at him. “Cayden, you need to go. I am in no danger. I promise. I just… I need to figure out what’s going on. Once I do, I swear, I will call you first thing in the morning.”
His feet were frozen in place. He didn’t put on the shirt.
“If you love me, you will do this for me.”
He fumed. How dare she say that to him? How dare she question his love for her? “That’s not fair! You can’t?—”
“I can,” she snapped. “Cayden, leave. Now. Tell the Wynns we had a fight, I don’t care, but you can’t tell them what happened. You cannot be involved here.”
“Youcan’t be involved here!”
“I already am. Go!” She started pushing him to the front door. “I will call you tomorrow. I promise.”
“You better have a damn good explanation, and you better tell me every goddamn detail, Trixie.” He couldn’t believe he’d just said that. Why was he letting himself get pushed towards the door?
She nodded, though her eyes kept glancing back at their bedroom. “Go!” The front door was opened, and he was pushed through, his duffel and shirt in hand, his feet still bare. “I love you.”
Then she closed the door in his face.
Cayden stood there staring at the door for several minutes, fighting with his need to protect her over doing as she’d asked. She clearly knew the guy. Why couldn’t she just tell him who he was?
“Fuck!” he shouted into the night.
Cayden turned to find the Uber driver standing against the passenger side of his car. The guy gave Cayden a sympathetic look as he asked, “Bad breakup, man?”
Chapter
Eleven
Her supplies in hand, Trixie rushed into her bedroom. She couldn’t think about Cayden right now, or her worry that he’d never forgive her for this. Her mind and concern were only for her bleeding brother lying in her bed.
Thankfully Cayden had laid Lee down on the right side, so she didn’t have to reach to get to his wound. She wasn’t strong enough to lift him on her own. Cayden’s shirt was soaked through. She dropped the bloody shirt to the newly carpeted bedroom floor. Priorities after all. Taking the kitchen scissors, she cut Lee’s shirt from navel to neck and then his left sleeve. The bullet wound was just below his collarbone.
She paused as she moved his cut shirt out the way. Trixie didn’t know a lot about his time as a soldier or where he’d been afterward. His body was just as well toned as she remembered it, but she couldn’t recall him having so many scars. Some were small and circular while others were long and jagged. A nasty burn mark covered his upper left arm. Hadn’t he had a Marine’s tattoo there? What the hell had he been doing to earn him so many scars? A distinctive slash mark on his right wrist caught her eye.
A gasp flew from her mouth. Was its location a coincidence, or had Lee tried to end his own life?
Fuck, she really needed to get him to a hospital, but she’d promised no cops. Hospital would mean doctors, but it would also mean cops. Why the hell had she promised no cops? What the hell had she been thinking?
Forcing her hand under him, she couldn’t feel an exit wound. She’d watched enough Gray’s Anatomy to know that was both good and bad. The bullet needed to be removed before she could stitch up the wound, but the bullet was also keeping the blood flow down.
She leaned over Lee. He was passed out cold. “What the fuck have you been up to,hermano?”
Trixie ran into the bathroom. She wasn’t regretting going crazy with supplying the house now. Cayden had laughed at her when he’d seen how stocked her medicine cabinet, pantry, and linen closets were. She had some clients who were doctors. Should she call them? Could she trust any of them to keep a secret?
Why couldn’t Lee go to a fucking hospital? The man was such a drama queen.
She grabbed the hydrogen peroxide, some washcloths, and her first aid kit. She had no idea how she was going to get the bullet out of him. Fuck. Should she Google it? Surely dealing with the cops couldn’t be worse than dying. She’d do what she could to help him but if he took a turn for the worse she was going to call regardless of her promise. She was not going to lose another brother.
Using the water and a cloth, Trixie started wiping the blood away from the wound. She really hoped he was clean. She didn’t have gloves other than her utility ones in her Firebird, and those weren’t exactly sanitary. Apparently, she hadn’t gone crazy enough with stocking the house. Who didn’t have gloves?
Mentally scolding herself, Trixie looked into the wound. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she could see the end of the bullet. She reached into her nightstand to pull out a small penlight. Clicking it on, she looked closer. Yes, that was definitely the bullet.
It was lodged just below his collarbone. Trixie didn’t think it was in far enough to hit anything vital, but she was a mechanic, not a surgeon. She knew basic first aid because they did work with some dangerous equipment and chemicals at the shop. Bullets were not one of them.
Trixie grabbed the peroxide. She uncapped it, hesitated, and then poured the liquid directly into the wound. Lee shot up on the bed, yelling out. She could see the panic in his eyes, which settled when he saw her. She was grateful for that. He looked ready to spring at her.
