“Stay the fuck down, Camille. Call 911. Shandra’s been hit. Open your fucking eyes, Shandra.”
Camille noticed the silence at the same time D called out to her about calling 911. Confusion hit her because his words weren’t making sense. Shandra had been hit? By what?
“I’m gonna kill every fucking one of them. Your boy just got some extra backup for this war. Camille, are you talking to 911? Get your ass on the fucking phone!”
Camille nodded, tears filling her eyes as she stared at her friend lying on the ground. Blood pooled around her. So much blood. Red. Thick. Shandra looked so pale.
No. This couldn’t be happening.
First thing first, she needed to call 911. Dialing the emergency number, she gave the details to the operator. Even before she hung up, sirens could be heard coming from multiple directions. Finally glancing up, she noticed they had a crowd around them. The bodyguards assigned to her were keeping everyone back, their eyes scanning the crowd. One of the men was on the phone and she was positive he was calling Tristan. For a moment, anger flared hot. Why hadn’t they stopped those men from firing on them? What the hell had they been doing that they’d allowed her and Shandra to be hurt?
A cold sensation ran through her body. She gasped as the realization hit her. They could have been killed.
D was bent over their friend, giving her chest compressions as another person was giving her mouth-to-mouth. Camille’s stomach flipped, and she wanted nothing more than to empty the contents. Holding it back, she took some deep breaths and crawled over to them. Grabbing Shandra’s hand, she allowed the tears to fall.
Glancing at D’s face, she saw the stricken look that seemed to take over his features. She saw his lips moving and could barely make out the words he was saying. And then she cried more.
Lifting her face to the heavens, she began saying the same words D whispered over and over again.
“Don’t die, Shandra. Please. Fight Shandra. Live!”
*****
Once they got to Providence Hospital, Shandra was rushed off to surgery. The bullet had gone into her abdomen, hitting her liver. D called Shandra’s parents to tell them what was happening, and which hospital they should come to. He sent someone by their house to bring them to the hospital. He didn’t want them driving while emotional, especially with Amina in the vehicle.
Camille called her own parents to tell them the news. They also were on the way. Her own injury wasn’t as bad as she’d first thought. It had been a close call, but according to the doctors, her neck had only been grazed. The bullet hadn’t entered her body or hit any vital arteries, which was the only thing that saved her.
Everyone kept saying how lucky she was, but Camille didn’t feel that way. Not when her best friend was lying on an operating table fighting for her life.
The last call she needed to make was to Tristan. Just as her finger hit the final number on her telephone keypad, he strolled through the doors like an avenging angel. She didn’t know how much she needed him until she saw his face. It didn’t matter that he looked as if he could kill everyone in his path. As long as he made it all better.
He’d talk with the doctors, make sure they understood just how much Shandra meant to her. He’d make them see that they had to bring in the best surgeons. Shandra was by her side through every event in her life, big or small.
She took off in a run, sprinting across the bland hospital floor to reach Tristan as fast as she could. As soon as she reached him, he opened his arms, catching her as she leaped towards him.
“I got you, Camille. I’m here now. We’re going to make this right.”
“Help her, Tristan. They’ll listen to you. Make them fix her,” she sobbed into his neck. “She’s my best friend. My sister. She has to get better.” Releasing her stronghold on his neck, she slid her body down to place her feet on the floor.
She heard Tristan say something to the men surrounding them as they began to walk forward. Once they came to where D stood against the wall, Tristan stopped. Camille’s hold on him never wavered.
“You hit?”
“Nah, I’m okay. This ain’t my blood.” His ragged voice got stronger with each word. When he spoke, Camille cried harder. Her hand reached out to D, and he grabbed hold of her.
“It’s all right, little demon. This ain’t over. Shandra’s almost as tough as you. Plus, she has to fight. There’s no other choice. She has to get back to that little girl.” Although his voice was hard, Camille still heard the fear. Yeah, he loved them as if they were his blood.
“I’ll have one of my men bring you some clean clothes.”
D tried to decline, “Nah, I’m—”
“You are my Camille’s brother. You were there, tried to get them both out of danger when I couldn’t. Her guards were too far away and couldn’t get to you in time. She said you were her brother in all ways but one. Her protector since she was a small child. Never again will my bad blood put you, Camille, or Shandra in danger again.”
D simply nodded. Releasing Camille’s hand, he smiled at her as he tilted his head toward Tristan. “He’s good people, Camille. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here waiting for the parental units.” Looking down at his blood-caked and dirty clothes, he gave a derisive laugh. “And those clean clothes would be great.”
Tristan nodded, “I’ll take care of it.” Pulling out his phone, he made a call and requested clothes for both her and D, as well as a dinner order. It also sounded as if he called the hospital director and demanded to speak with the Chief of Surgery, who was not in the room with Shandra.
Well, that was unacceptable as fuck, Camille thought. Shandra would have the best this hospital had to offer, or she’d personally burn this bitch down. After removing all the patients first, of course.