As they started to maneuver him into the vehicle, I tried again. Putting my face in his, I quietly told him again. “Fix yourself! What are you doing?”
His rasped out reply sent a cold chill through me.
“Can’t. Heal. Self,” he said through gritted teeth. My blood ran cold.
“You need to call 911,” I begged the two men that loaded him up. “He needs a hospital!”
The guy who’d held the gun to my head stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “It’s a gunshot wound, lady. We can’t take him to a hospital. Now either get back or get in,” he said in a no-nonsense tone.
Making a split-second decision that could very well end badly but that I saw as my only option, I climbed in. I rattled off my address. At first they looked confused. “Go!” I shouted. “It’s safe, just hurry.”
Their hesitation irritated me.
The guys that still had masks on closed the back doors of a separate vehicle. I’d seen a flash of the plastic sheeting before the door sealed. One of them stopped by the open back doors of the vehicle we were in.
“We need to get him taken care of,” the guy holding the fabric to Jude’s shoulder said.
“Call if you need us. We’ll finish up here.” The other guys waved us off. The shorter guy shut us in and hurried to the driver seat. Before I knew it, we were speeding off. How they found their way off the property, I’ll never know, because it was dark as pitch and none of them turned on a single set of lights.
Thankfully, Lester’s huge home was on the edge of town with some distance between him and his neighbors. The driver followed my instructions. It took all of five minutes to make it across town. When he pulled in my driveway, I stumbled out to enter the door code. Once the door was open, he pulled into the empty space, and I hurried to hit the door closure.
Thankful that I’d made arrangements to be alone before I left the house, I had them follow me to my room. I grabbed towels from the hall closet and laid them out on the bed.
“Fuck, babe. I’m glad you’re a piss-poor shot.” He grimaced and moaned a little as they set him on the towels. Knowing he was likely delirious didn’t stop my heart from lurching at his endearment.
“I’m actually a very good shot. You’re lucky I wasn’t aiming for your chest,” I murmured without thinking. His bark of laughter was weak and ended with a groan.
“What next? Where’s your first aid kit?” The bigger one questioned. Then glanced to the other. “Send our location to Coy. Ask if he can send Grem over here. He was a paramedic and will know more than we do.”
“No!” I didn’t want any more people there than necessary for what I’d have to do. I was scared, but I needed Jude alive. Because without him, Trace might not stand a chance.
“Look, lady, I don’t know what to do for him. This is usually his ballgame. We need help here,” the big guy said.
“Her name is Korrie,” Jude gasped out. He was sweating and looked unnaturally pale. Considering he normally had a light golden bronze hue to his skin, that was frightening.
“Look, I’m not going to say anything to anyone about what happened tonight. I’ll be right back.” I turned to Jude. “I know you don’t give a shit about me or him, but you owe him. And you’re about to owe us more than you realized,” I said before I rushed to the bathroom to pull off my bloody shirt and rinse my hands. I grabbed a dirty, but at least not bloody, sweater from my hamper.
I heard my name being called out as I rushed from the house, scrambled down the front porch stairs, and hurried three houses down. Composing myself, I knocked on the door.
Stacey opened the door with a smile. “Hey, you’re done early. Trace just ate a snack and was starting to watch a movie with Mark.”
“Yeah, um, didn’t have as much to do as I thought. Thank you so much for helping out. You’ve been a godsend, but I need to get Trace and head home,” I said with an overly bright smile.
“Sure thing. I’ll go get him.” She disappeared down the hall as I grabbed his jacket and backpack from the pegs by the door.
“Mom!” I looked up to see my son barreling down the hall. He threw himself into me and wrapped his arms around my waist.
“Hey, sweetheart. You ready to go home?” I held out his jacket to encourage him to slip his arms in. He grumbled that he wasn’t a baby but allowed me to help him. Then he put his arms through the backpack straps.
As he looked up at me with a smile, a lock of his dark hair fell over his matching chocolate eyes.
Eyes that were exact replicas of the ones I’d been looking into mere minutes ago.
“Angel”—TheoryofaDeadman
“Bro, how do you know you can trust this chick?” Phoenix asked as soon as she’d left the house. No one but Voodoo knew anything about her, and even he thought my feelings ended a long damn time ago.
Trust me, I’d tried. The best I’d done was not think about her. That was easy. Moving on was what had been hard.