“Now listen here, asshole,” he stepped forward, raising his finger.
“Enough of the bullshit,” Nico commanded. “My nephew’s here and he’s been shot. Help him.”
“He’s fine,” Johnny said with a wave of his hand. “Told you all already.”
“Let me be the judge of that,” I replied.
“Whatever.”
Johnny stepped out of the way, giving me a clearer view into the office. It was black and gold like the rest of the place, the one-way window looking out onto the main floor of the club. David was laying on the desk with his arms draped over the side, staring up at the ceiling.
“Shit,” he moaned. “Shit, shit, shit.”
He rolled his head to the side. The kid looked rough, his youthful face pale, his watery blue eyes glazed over.
“There he is,” David said as he laid eyes on me, a weak smile forming. “There’s the man who’s going to save my life.”
As Nico and Johnny fell into conversation, I stepped to the desk and assessed the damage.
“How’re you feeling, kid?” I asked. No doubt what the answer would be, but I needed to make some conversation to get his mind off the wound.
“Oh, hanging in there. Got a hole in me, but that’s… that’s… ” he trailed off.
Not good. His white dress shirt was soaked in blood, and I wasted no time ripping it off as slowly as I could not to scare him. Once it was off, I got a good look at the wound. It was near his liver—not a good sign. I lifted him a bit, just enough to see the other side of him. There was no exit wound. That was another bad sign, knowing that it meant more than likely the bullet was somewhere in there among his vital organs.
“Been a while since I’ve seen you,” I said, keeping the small talk going. “You still seeing that girl who’s no good? The one with the snake tattoo on her arm?”
“Oh, Melissa?” he laughed weakly. “Nah. She… she’s… ” he trailed off again. “She’s old news.”
I was getting worried; he wasn’t doing well holding a conversation. Not to mention his skin was pale, and the wound on his stomach was bleeding like crazy. Blood loss was one thing however, what worried me were his fast heart rate, his cold, clammy skin, and the disoriented look in his eyes.
“Good,” I said, trying to hold back my worry at what was looking to be a far more serious wound than I’d been led to believe. “You remember what I said about women with snake tattoos, right?”
Another weak laugh. “Yeah, that they’re advertising how badly they’re gonna bite you.”
Nico approached my side, looking over his nephew. “How are you feeling, young man?”
“I feel… I feel… I mean, it doesn’t hurt anymore. Johnny said that I was going to be fine.”
“Then there you go. Alexandros here will have you patched up in no time.” He clapped his hand on my shoulder. “Isn’t that right?”
I said nothing at first, taking a mental inventory of all that would need to be done if I were going to save David’s life.
“I said, isn’t that right?”
I broke my eyes from David, turning my attention to Johnny. “Hey, I need you to make yourself useful.”
“The hell you say?” he asked, impudence in his tone.
I went around to the desk, pulling opening one of the drawers and taking out a neatly folded, but very tacky shirt. I tossed it in his direction.
“Put this on the woundnow. And apply firm pressure.”
“You kidding? This shirt was custom made, asshole, cost me almost a G.”
Nico’s face fell. No doubt he was beginning to understand that there was something seriously wrong.
“Alexandros?” he asked. “What’s going on here?” There was something strange to his voice, a softness, a trace of worry. Nico never worried.