But I wanted to have her checked first.
Even with a vest, taking a bullet still hurt. And the spot I saw her reaching for when she was injured was near her kidney area. She would likely bruise from it, and I wanted to know just how deep the damage went.
If she was scared, I didn’t know what I could tell her to make her feel better. I wasn’t great with the comfort thing.
"Out of the car."
I saw her throat convulse as she swallowed, but she was stupidly brave. I still held a gun, but she wouldn’t just do as I said.
"Why." Her voice was low and hoarse, but I heard her.
"There's a doctor's office up there." I pointed out the windshield and she followed with her eyes, skimming over the signs until they stopped at the right one. "I want you to step outside of the car and go up there.
She stared for a moment longer, then her head shook once, but I didn’t think the move was deliberate. She turned back to me. I touched one hand to the wound in my thigh and she followed the move with her eyes. I could tell she saw it by the way her eyes widened.
"Shouldn’t—" she cut off to clear her throat. "Shouldn’t we just go straight to a hospital?"
I looked at her like she was crazy. Which, she must have been. "We can't go to a hospital."
"Why not?" she challenged, insistently.
"Because Eric would find us. In half an hour at the most. I took us a bit of a distance away, but the man isn’t just dangerous in name only. He's pretty much got the whole area covered, and a little bit further out. If we walk into a hospital, he will know. If not, he likely already has the police out looking for us."
"But I am a cop—" she argued, but I cut her off.
"Whether or not you are is currently irrelevant. Or did you miss the part where they killed your partner with your gun?"
It was a low blow. I saw her pale and tremble a bit before she forced a breath down her throat and regained some of her composure.
"I can explain what happened."
"If it had just ended there, you might have had the luck with them believing you. But there was no way you were going to just walk out of that place alive, Officer Foley." I saw her startle as I used her name. Her first name would have worked better. I would have to find the opportune time to ask her. "And considering I helped you, and a few bystanders were injured as we made our way out, and the murder weapon was in my hand. Who do you think they will be most inclined to go after?"
I could see her wrestle with her mind to refuse the plain truth I was giving her. She shook her head in another abortive move, but I could see it sinking in.
"If you just took me back, and I told them, they'd—"
"I'm not interested in going to a police precinct. With my affiliations with Eric, they won't just let me walk out of there."
My hands weren’t bloody, I hadn't killed anyone in that place, just shot out a couple of tires. But I didn’t want to be framed for a murder I didn’t commit—as much as I didn’t want to get caught for the ones I had.
"We are losing time, and I am losing blood. Get out of the car and go up there, I'll be right behind you. I've passed by here before. This time of night, there's usually one person in the front room, the doctor's office is in the back. Just get whoever's in the front to take you back there."
She took a moment, but she did pull herself together. She opened the door and stepped out. I watched and waited until she was inside before sliding out of the car myself. It hurt to walk, but I grit my teeth through it. I had but to be grateful it was on the first floor.
I glanced around as I walked ahead, keeping an eye out. Just in case, I made sure I wasn’t limping as I crossed the street. The clinic wasn’t the only shop open, but I didn't see that many people.
When I saw her disappear with the woman behind the counter, I followed. Even injured, I was good at stealth; when your job was to kill, you had to be good at having silent feet, or you would end up dead yourself.
I slid the gun from my pocket as I walked inside the clinic, keeping it close to my side. I glanced around, but no one else was around like expected. There were probably cameras—just about everyone had cameras these days—so we had to make it quick.
I followed the only other door in the room and saw a few more doors after a short hallway beyond that. One of the doors was open, and there were people talking in there.
I slid into the room, cocking the gun again. It was unnecessary, it had been done twice already, but the sound it made was good for getting people's attention. I saw the assistant standing beside the cop, the doctor was sitting behind his desk. They both turned pale, the doc half standing with his mouth open, the assistant looking like she could scream. Foley was smart enough to clamp a hand over her mouth and shush her. She whispered something, and the assistant nodded, then her mouth was released.
The doctor opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off before he could say something insulting. Like I would need to rob a clinic.
"I'm here looking for your services, doc, that's all. Just do as I say, and we won't have any trouble. That goes for both of you."
I looked at him, then the woman, waited until they both nodded, and gave a nod of my own. I held the gun pointing to the floor, and I was glad I wouldn’t have to lift my hands up.
"Are there any supplies here?"
He ran his eyes over me, eyes finding the bleeding wound on my thigh, assessing, then slowly shook his head.
"We… keep most of them in the lab room. It's just outside. If we move there, I can look at you—"
"No. Here's fine. And she goes first."
"But you're losing blood," she protested.
"I can stand to lose a little more." I turned back to the doctor. "She got shot."
He ran a critical eye over her, professional, even though I could tell he was still afraid. "She doesn’t look injured."
"She was wearing a vest, but the shot might have gotten her in the kidney." I looked at the assistant but kept the gun lowered harmlessly onto the ground. "Go out to the other room and get whatever supplies he's going to need. Bring plenty of cleaning fluid and plastic bags." I'd keep whatever they used on us that couldn’t be cleaned out with bleach in there to dispose of elsewhere.
"We really should go into the other room. It would be cleaner—"
"You have a sink in here, that's really all I need. We all stay in here."
I didn’t think I could walk. Well, I could, but would my leg hold me? It hurt just standing there doing nothing.
I caught the cop's eye and jerked my head toward the door. "Follow her, make sure she only does what she needs to. We need to be gone before he sends his men out, or it will be dangerous for them, too."
She understood me, nodding her head and taking the other woman's arm. "Come on," she urged a little. I was left with the doc, and he was alternating between looking at the gun, and looking at me.
"If you're thinking of jumping me, I suggest you don’t. I could shoot you before you get near me, but I would rather not."
I saw his throat convulse as he swallowed, but he nodded in understanding. "If you need medical attention you could just go to the hospital."
"If it was safe to go to a hospital, I wouldn’t need to do this. Just do as I say, and we will both be out of your hair. The faster you get this done, the easier for everyone."
The women came back first, and the assistant deposited her find on the table. I waited for the cop to look at me. I do need to find out her first name. Not that I could use it so openly, anyway, but…
"Take off your jacket and the vest. Let him look at you."
She hesitated but did as I said. The doc went to her as the assistant retreated to a corner. She glanced at me, and then followed my relaxed arm to the gun. She swallowed and looked away.
He pulled on a pair of gloves and had Foley sit up on the desk. He did a few basic tests, giving her instructions and feeling her up with his hand.
When he was done, she hopped off the table. She st
arted to dress, leaving the vest off.
"Wait."
She paused with her shirt half on.
"Put the vest on. It'll be useful."
"You're not wearing one."
"I won't be the first target they aim for. Do it."
Foley took off the shirt, put the vest on under it, wincing a little as she raised her arms to secure the straps at her sides. She pulled on the shirt and jacket over it. I gestured for her to come closer. I held the gun out to her, and I could see her eyes widen in surprise.
"He's going to be cutting me open. I want his hands to be steady. Just stand aside and hold onto it."
"But we don’t need to—"
"It's not so much to threaten them, or have you forgotten we have people on our tail? If you see someone, no matter who it is, shoot. You don’t have to aim right at them, just make them hesitate, or leave."
She took the gun from me, reluctant. But she did as I asked. I pulled my pocket knife out, pulled a different blade and used it to slice at the bullet hole in my jeans to see the wound better. It wasn’t messy, at least; the gun must have held small caliber bullets. I grabbed a bunch of tissue and wiped at the blood so the wound was clear, then took my place on the desk. I grabbed the gauze and a pair of scissors from the pile beside me, cutting a bit to catch the blood with.
I looked up at the doctor. "Get over here. Just take the bullet out and sew it shut, be quick about it. If you have painkillers I can swallow, I would prefer those to you injecting me with anything."
He shared a glance with the assistance, and she nodded. She glanced at the cop, who stepped aside for her to go through the door and followed. They were back relatively quickly with some drugs and a bottle of water.
The doc was good at his work. I had to grit my teeth through the pain before the drugs kicked in, but he worked with quick precision. I'd have to find a way to get money to him for a job well done. I always believed in compensation for competence.
Intercepted
Lara
The doctor was finishing up with Newbury's leg. I could see him cut the thread, and get something to apply to the site, some antibiotic spray, and gauze and tape to pack the wound. I'd been taught basic first aid, but I didn’t think I could have done any of that, not even nearly as quickly.
Then I heard a sound that made me freeze. The sound of a screeching car, loud enough we could hear it from the street. The doctor worked quickly, and Newbury slid off the table as he was finished up, dark eyes trained on the door. He still urged the doctor to remove the gloves and keep them in the plastic bag, which he then stashed into an inner pocket of his jacket. He hurried, limping a little, to the sink in the corner to wash out with bleach the supplies that had been used on him.
A small sound came from the woman close to me, and I met her eyes and put my finger to my mouth. She nodded, trembling. I could tell she didn’t entirely trust me, but she would still do it. I held out my arm in front of her, sliding us both back until we were against the wall and out of view of the door. We could have kept it closed, but then we wouldn’t have any warning of someone coming in while we were busy. Someone could have easily laid in ambush.
I didn’t think these guys were quite so patient, though, usually that was the police. But if it was a cop, they would have said something, or called out. But nobody did. I held the gun in both hands, a little raised, but still angled to the floor. I couldn’t see all that clearly what was going on because of the angle, but I was sure I didn’t want to know anyway.
Then someone shouted from outside, close to the front room, and I heard Newbury curse quietly.
He was glaring at the doc, and whatever he saw in those eyes had him flinching back. Newbury told him, in no uncertain terms, "Keep your mouth shut." It must have been meant for them, but he must have seen something in the doc that made it necessary.
I wondered if he knew just how threatening his voice sounded.
The assistant was going to argue, even as I stepped forward to hold her back.
"You have no right to threaten him," she said in a harsh whisper. "We've done everything you asked for."
He made an impatient noise. "In case it hasn’t occurred to you, lady, we're not what you should be worried about right now."
The conversation was interrupted by a shot ringing out, and the doc crumpled to the ground.
I glanced at him. I didn’t think he was dead, the angle was bad to begin with, so he must have taken aim at a shoulder. But I didn’t have time to focus on the doctor. The guy outside the door knew he'd hit someone, and he was walking closer to the door. I pushed the woman behind me, tightening my hold on the gun.
I saw him creep around the door as the assistant and I took cover behind the desk. We had to get that bastard out of there. If he made it inside the room, I would either need to shoot him, or someone else would without a doubt end up dead.
As he got most of his arm through the doorway, I saw Newbury rush at him, his hand reaching for the one with the gun. He slammed against the guy with his full weight, knocking him against the doorjamb, pushing at his arm at an awkward angle and slamming it, hard, against the wall. He cried out in pain, releasing the gun, and Newbury gave it a kick as he stepped out of reach. It was with his injured leg; the gun didn’t move far at all, but he didn’t have the time to focus on pushing it further away.
I let her move as they were preoccupied, as I went forward, keeping an eye on the two of them. The room wasn’t big enough for them to fight in, and there was no clear room for me to take a shot. The other guy was still technically outside the door, and Newbury was using it to his advantage, leading an attack when the other guy so much as stepped a foot on the threshold.
It was a little frightening to watch. Both guys were big, even though the maniac was a bit bigger. Not to mention, Newbury was injured, and I could see it had taken its toll. He was favoring his wounded leg, but he wasn’t so obvious that I would have noticed if I hadn't been looking for it.
Even with the painkillers, didn’t it hurt at all? A wound like that would have laid out plenty of people, yet he didn’t even look all that shaken.
Shit!
I couldn’t just sit aside and do nothing. The bastard no longer had his gun, anyway. I couldn’t shoot him, not with the Newbury in the way, so I moved from where I stood, getting a little closer to the action.
I moved just in time, as I watched Newbury take a kick to the leg. He couldn’t have missed the cloth wrapped around Newbury's thigh, where he'd cut his jeans, and he must have guessed he was injured. The kick went a little low, though, and Newbury didn’t back down. I could tell he couldn’t handle it on his own, though.
The maniac must have seen his gun on the floor, and I could practically see his need to reach for it. I saw him shove against Newbury with his shoulder, eyes aiming for his gun on the floor, just inside the door. I stepped forward, kicking it aside as he lunged for it. He made a noise of frustration, but then he grabbed my leg, and I lost my balance, falling backward. I kicked out at him, crying out as his grip tightened on my leg, kicking my other boot right into his face a couple of times before he let go. I scrambled away as Newbury dived in to deliver a few blows of his own, to make sure the guy stayed down. Then he reached for the gun with one hand and held the other one to me.
I reached back, and Newbury was thankfully holding the gun in his left hand — was he ambidextrous, or just that good with weapons? — so I didn’t have to shift my gun. Then he was tugging me, and we were running. I could feel the strain in my side as we ran, and I wondered how he felt, he technically just had open surgery on his leg.
I heard him curse beside me as we hit the street, probably regretting parking so far, even though it was only across the street.
We somehow managed to escape, but I looked back once just to be sure the psycho was still following us, spilling out of the clinic and rushing for his car as we took off. I noticed it was the only car. I breathed a little easier for the two we'd left back there, b
ut I didn’t relish that crazy bastard still coming after us.
Flirting With The Force
Clay
Fuck. I'd somehow forgotten, that no matter how useless a bastard he could be at times, Jacque was a bastard with a temper. He would take it as a personal affront that I hit his boss and ran off with the woman that put his boss's kid in prison, for however short a time he was even in there. Of course, he would be gunning for me, he didn’t like me to begin with, though that might have had a great deal to do with my own less-than-friendly attitude.
He was also sloshed, or at least he had been when I'd been with him at the bar. Maybe the adrenaline had made his head a little clear—or maybe I'd get lucky, and he crashed his car chasing after us a second time.
Hopefully, that doc back there was still alive. Now I would need to consider donating a rather large sum to their clinic.
We drove for a while, uninterrupted. It was too risky to stop anywhere else local, so I was going to focus on distance, and then think about where to go.
Mentally, I calculated all the money I had on me, the untraceable accounts I could access. I didn’t have a lot of cash, maybe a few hundred. Not only was it not good for much, I didn’t know how long this was going to go on for.
But then I scowled at myself. There was no reason for this thing to take so long. Why was I already planning for a lengthy hideaway?
You're just tired. Get away, get some space; and find somewhere safe to get some rest. You can rest up and decide the game plan when you wake up.
I thought that a good plan. A workable plan.
I was pulled out of my mind when Foley spoke.
"We should go to the cops."
I sighed, and the sound was tinged with annoyance. Why was she insisting on this?
She was probably one of those idealists, raised primarily on the right side of the tracks. Clearly, she thought the police, and the law system, could fix everything. Of course, it couldn’t. But me telling her that wouldn’t be enough to get her to stop.
His Betrayal: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Omerta Series Book 5) Page 4
