Burn (14 page)

“Sit down,
hijo.
This doesn’t concern you.”

Michael doesn’t accept his advice. He flips the knife over and drives it down through Julio’s hand with lightning speed, pinning him to the table.

“Motherfucker! Teo, kill this motherfucker!” Julio’s bellow is loud enough to alert the whole fucking house. Perhaps Teo is too stunned by the blatantly suicidal action Michael’s just taken, but his pause gives me enough time to spin, grab hold of Teo’s M16, and punch the guy square in the throat. He crumples to the ground like a ragdoll. He can’t breathe. He won’t be able to breathe again, given the force I put behind that punch. Sloane screams, jumping to her feet, and now it seems like everyone is screaming.

Julio’s making enough noise to wake the dead. We’re about to have fifteen angry guards storm this room. I shoot Michael a displeased glance. “Real smooth, man.”

Michael braces against the table and jerks his knife free from Julio’s hand, and then lays it against his throat instead. The huge Mexican stops yelling and freezes. As though thanking him for his silence, Michael gives him a friendly pat on the arm. “You didn’t hear what he was saying before you came into the room, boss. He was planning on letting Andreas cut your dick off. Or at least that’s what I thought he said. It was in Spanish.”

Cade nods. “Yeah. That was pretty much the gist of it.” He gets to his feet, coming around to take a look at Teo, who is lying still and silent on the floor. Sloane’s not looking at the guy at her feet, though; she’s looking at me.

Her eyes are filled with tears. “Did you have to do that?”

I narrow my eyes at her. “Why don’t you think about it and make up your own mind.” This has to be on her. She has to decide for herself. I turn to Michael. “We need to get the fuck out of here.”

“Agreed. What about him?”

“You motherfuckers seriously think you can pull this shit?” Julio’s skin is purple; spittle flies everywhere as he shouts at us. “You’ve just signed your own death warrants!”

“Hey, Michael, how many times can a man die?” I ask, stalking toward the two of them.

“Just once, boss.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Just once.” I accept the throwing knife Michael offers out to me and I hold it in front of Julio’s face. “Charlie’s already called dibs on my death, motherfucker. So it would seem that you’re surplus to requirement where that little matter is concerned. Now…” I trail the knife down the side of Julio’s face, watching the metal reflect his wide-eyed terror back at him. “We’re both big fucking dogs, Julio, remember? You see yourself in me. We’ve both come from shit, as you so helpfully reminded me the other day. So ask yourself, if we’re so similar, what would
you
do if you found yourself in my position right now?” I bend down, hands braced against my knees, giving him a thoughtful shrug of my shoulders.

“You can’t kill me,
puta
. You wouldn’t fucking dare!”

I look up to find that Cade’s joined Michael in standing behind Julio now. He has a grim look on his face, but he gives me a hard nod—I’m with you, brother.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, this isn’t happening.” Sloane’s as white as a sheet behind me. She really does look like she’s going to throw up any second. She won’t look at me; instead she turns her back and presses her forehead against the wall, breathing in shallow, faint breaths, and covering her ears with her hands.

Julio’s smirking when I face him again. “And I’m unarmed, Zeth. You gonna show your woman what the kind of killer you are by slitting my throat, huh?”

I rush forward, shoving my face into his. “
Yes
.”

I lash out with the knife.

But the steel doesn’t strike flesh.

Julio’s already pissing himself when I signal to Cade—finish the job. The Widow Maker flips his gun around and brings the butt down on the back of Julio’s head, knocking him clean out.

I’m a little too smug when I see the bastard sitting there, unconscious, in his own urine. “Come on. He won’t be out forever.”

Sloane’s mumbled cursing drops off, as she turns slowly around. “You didn’t kill him?”

I wrap an arm around her waist and begin to guide her forcibly out of the room. “Julio Perez is an evil son of a bitch, Sloane, but he was right about one thing. I won’t kill an unarmed man.”

******

It becomes instantly clear why Julio’s guards didn’t come running at the sound of their boss’ cries: they didn’t hear them. The engines of countless Mercedes, Lamborghinis and Harleys drown out everything but the loudest of shouts in the front courtyard as people arrive in plumes of orange dust from the desert for tonight’s gathering.

Alexis is a cold, limp weight in my arms. The blonde hadn’t wanted us to take her from the kitchen, but a few sharp words from Sloane and the bitch backed off. We spend a full thirty seconds out in the open, looking for my car; Michael locates it parked to one side, covered in dust from being exposed to the desert for four days. I deposit Alexis in the back seat, and Sloane gets in after her, cradling her sister’s head in her lap.

I take the driver’s side and Michael gets in on the right. Cade stands at the window, eyes searching the crowd of people, looking for a way out. “You’re gonna need to be quick, bro. I’ll call Julio’s boys inside and then we’ll be right behind you.”

I start the engine, revving it like crazy. We’re set to go. Cade holds out his knuckles and I bump fists with him. He’s about to head inside, when a piercing scream tears above all of the noise and Alaska comes barrelling out of the villa.

The engines drown out her hysterical shouting, but one of the guards hears her well enough and signals the others. They charge inside, guns at the ready.

“Better go now, man. We’ll catch you up.” Cade thumps the side of the car and runs back inside the villa. We do as he suggests, and we get the hell out of there.

It takes three hours to reach the hospital in San Jacinto—Julio knows about the hospital in San Bernadino, so we had to take a detour—and I think Alexis has died a total of seven times on the journey. Her pulse is barely there anymore, weak, irregular and thready, and I feel totally numb. A heavy silence reigns supreme inside the car as Zeth drives, and I try to forget where I am. To forget everything that’s happened since I woke up this morning.

It’s pitch black by the time we pull up outside the hospital, and just the sight of the place makes me burst into tears. The ambulance parked up out front and the lights blaring from every single window, promising help, promising rescue, is more than I can take. We got her here. Somehow she made it this far.

Zeth collects her from the backseat again, and we run inside. Michael stays with the car. Michael takes the car away. I don’t know what happens to Michael. All I care about is Alexis.

The nurse on duty at reception drops her pen when she sees us. We must look like hell, covered in blood and dust, carrying a half dead girl between us. I’m rattling off Lexi’s stats before the girl can even process what she’s seeing.

“Gunshot wound to the abdomen. Severe kidney damage, hemodynamically unstable, tachycardic and hypertensive. She needs to be booked into an OR now!”

The nurse responds quickly, sending out an emergency page for all available bodies; a crash team and two doctors arrive almost immediately, taking Alexis without so much as a backward glance at me and Zeth. The nurse sticks around, though. What’s happened to her? What’s my relationship to the patient? What treatment has she received? Allergies? End of life, do not resuscitate wishes? I answer everything through a daze of exhaustion and a level of adrenalin that now feels toxic.

After that it’s just Zeth and me. Alone. In a hospital waiting room.

“Sloane?”

I can’t force myself to look at him. Instead I burst into tears. I let him wrap his arms around me, and I bawl my eyes out for god knows how long, feeling weaker and weaker with each and every passing moment. The likelihood of Lexi making it is so slim that I can’t even calculate such low odds. And what happened back at the compound… Zeth killing Teo…

“Sloane, she’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“How can you say that?” I push him away, batting the tears out of my eyes. “How?”

Zeth is just as composed as he’s been throughout this whole nightmare day; he reaches out to me and sweeps my hair out of my face, shaking his head. “Because she’s your sister, angry girl. If she’s half as strong as you are, then she’s gonna be just fine.”

I can’t believe he thinks that. I stand up on shaky legs and start pacing, my arms wrapped around my body. “I hesitated. I took too long. She’s probably gonna die now, and if I’d acted quicker…” I pull in a deep breath, fighting against the tears. How many times have I told interns you can’t hesitate?
How many times?
And then the moment when I need to concentrate the most, I freeze. Lexi needed me and I froze. My limbs feel boneless, like I could collapse any second. Zeth comes and stands behind me, placing his arms around me as though he knows I need to be standing for this.

“You were brave. And you were fucking strong. You did what you had to do.” His voice is so deep, rumbling through his ribcage and vibrating into my back. I have to admit it to myself—I was terrified of him back in the compound when he attacked Teo so viciously. Absolutely terrified. But his words have been playing over and over in my head ever since I asked him if he had to do what he’d done, and sick as it may sound, I understand why he told me to work it out on my own.

In between freaking out, thinking that my sister was dead on the way here, I’ve run the scenario through my head over and over, time and time again. I’ve watched it play out a thousand times, and I’ve imagined every single outcome I can, too: Zeth not acting, and Teo shooting Michael; Zeth taking the time to try and wrestle the gun from the guy and getting shot himself in the process; Zeth attacking him in a million different ways, and each time the outcome is the same. Someone dies. I’m probably a terrible person, but I’ve come to the conclusion that he…he did the right thing. And by letting me decide that, to figure it out on my own, I know it’s the truth. A guilty man will plead innocent until he runs out of breath. That it was all an accident. That it was someone else. That he had no other choice. I wouldn’t have accepted Zeth telling me that he
had
to do it at the time. I would have just been afraid. And I still am afraid…just not afraid of him.

I carefully place my hands over his, folded on my stomach, and I let my head fall back against his chest. He’s got me. He’s got me now, and he had me back in Julio Perez’s kitchen, when I needed someone the most.

He was the one who got me through it.

“You did what you had to do as well,” I whisper. “I know that.” I don’t even need to explain what I’m talking about. Zeth knows, and his deep exhalation tells me he’s been waiting for me to make up my mind on that one. Waiting ever since we left Julio’s compound.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

I shake my head, closing my eyes against the stinging in my tear ducts. “No. Thank
you.
”

Whoever he is, this man cautiously holding onto me, he’s killed to protect me and helped me save my sister, for however short a time that may be. He’s going against every single instinct he has even remaining in this hospital right now, knowing the sort of questions that are going to be asked. And he’s doing it all for me. He can hide behind the violence of his past all he likes, but I’m beginning to see the truth of him. I’m beginning to see the good that he so desperately hides away at all costs.

We stand together for a long time, not speaking. Just waiting, Zeth supporting me against him, breathing softly into my ear. It’s two hours later when a doctor comes to find us. A young woman, a resident like me, wearing the same business like expression I wear when I come to deliver bad news. I feel my throat closing up at the very sight of her, my legs finally buckling out from underneath me.

“Ms Romera? You’re Alexis’ sister, correct?”

I nod, unable to get any words out.

“Alexis is in the ICU right now. We had to repair two slow bleeds to her stomach and small bowel, but we seem to have gotten everything. We’ve done everything we can. There’s a massive risk of infection from the first time she was opened, but we’re confident, Ms Romera. If Alexis makes it through the night, there’s a good chance she’ll survive.”

A good chance. Doctors don’t use those words lightly. I have never said them—the danger of them backfiring and someone’s chance deteriorating from good to bad is just too high for me. This woman is either one hundred percent sure my sister will survive and simply covering her ass, or she is grossly negligent. I’m praying that she’s covering her ass.

******