Chapter 6

6

JACK

I have Serena's hand in mine. Our fingers laced together, and I'm taking her out to my car. Soon, I'll be taking her to my bed. The night breeze runs cool across our skin, and we are fevered, sweaty, not wanting to wait. My brain, what's left of it, is thinking ahead, how long will it take in traffic to reach my place? If I pull her into my lap in the car then I can kiss her while I get her off, just once, just to hold her off until I can get her home.

I lean her back against the door and cover her mouth with mine. Relief and joy coat the roaring need I feel in both of us. I'm kissing her, slow and easy, because I meant it to be a light peck, the promise of things to come. Not a filthy, deep kiss. I pull her into my arms while I kiss her, lift her off her feet so I can kiss her without bending over so far. Her hands are on my face in my hair—it feels so sweet.

My phone rings. I keep it on do not disturb, but I have a couple of numbers programmed to reach me anytime. Grimly I realize it's Lynette, my cousin, who also happens to be my right-hand.

I reach back and answer it, clear my throat. "What?" I say.

"You still at the bar?" she asks. I wrap my arm around Serena's shoulders protectively, and she buries her face in my neck. I kiss the top of her head without thinking. It's an intimate gesture, comfort and closeness. I know she can feel the tension in every cell of my body as I listen.

"Yeah," I reply.

"I got incoming. I rerouted a delivery. Is the little nurse still there?"

"Yeah. How many?"

"Three. I wouldn't do this, but Louie got plugged in the leg, and Vicenzo's in Sicily for that wedding."

"Sicily? Jesus. That doesn't help anybody that's bleeding out for Christ sake," I mutter. "Send him in the back."

"Whaddaya think I'm gonna send my bleeding husband in the goddamn front door and let the bouncer check his ID?" she says, smart mouthing me the way she does when she's upset.

"He'll be fine, Lynnie," I tell her. Then I hang up and turn to Serena.

"We got a problem. I gotta go back inside. Did you mean what you said the other day about first aid?" I demand.

Her face is still pink, her lips parted. She looks like she's about to fall over and die of a massive cardiac event brought on by lust. I know because I've got the blue balls to prove it, but there's no time to explain.

"Yeah, of course I did."

"Change of plans," I tell her. "That was my cousin. Her husband could use your assistance."

"Show me where the gloves are," she said, not missing a beat.

"I could kiss you," I say with a rueful laugh.

"You already did and look where that got me—digging out bullets and shit," she says with an eye roll that makes me want to see if we can finish what we started in the length of time it takes to send Louie this way. Her eyes are still bright and her cheeks flushed. It reminds me of what we had to cut off.

"You sure you didn't grow up in this life?" I tease her.

"Didn't your mom ever tell you not to start things you couldn't finish?"

"Yeah, but she was talking about schoolyard fistfights," I say. "If I'd known somebody got antsy at the drop and started shooting, I wouldn't have done half the things I did," I say.

"Apology accepted," she says with a gleam in her eye.

It's barely enough time to get stuff out of the supply closet before they arrive. Every place I own has the same basic kit, stuff our family doctor helped select for emergency use.

Serena has put a disposable gown over her clothes, and she has the headlamp on. She's gloved and ready when Jonny and Luke bring Louie in. They've got his arms slung around their shoulders so it looks like they could be helping a drunk friend, but his head droops, and they've tied a bandana around his leg. They heave him up on the desk I covered for the purpose.

"Lou, it's Jack. Lynn called me and I told her my best nurse will clean you up and you'll go right home to her. Okay?" I say.

"Jacky?" he mutters.

"Yeah, I'm here," I take his hand. "You get hit in the leg?"

"Hurts like a mother," he says, and his breathing is shallow.

I cut my eyes to Serena, and she's all business. She's cut the leg of his jeans open to clean the wound and get a look at it.

"They missed the femoral artery," she says to me. "Probable nerve damage though."

I nod like I know what that might mean. I can't take my eyes off her hands. She's swift and decisive. She has the bullet out without much probing around and makes tiny, neat stitches, closing the wound that was like a gaping mouth moments ago. She covers it with a bandage and tells me to turn him so she can give him an antibiotic shot in the hip. Then we sit him up for some ibuprofen and water. I tell him to smile and take a picture of him with my phone to send to his wife, proof he's alive and heading home.

"Thanks," he grimaces while getting to his feet. I steady him, and Luke ducks under Louie's left arm to help him walk.

"You're welcome. You were an excellent patient. I wish everybody had the sense to pass out when it's unpleasant," she quips.

"I'd give you a good review online, but I don't want word getting out. Best bullet wound repair in town," he says and gives a wheezy laugh.

"I'll keep that in mind if I need referrals," she says. "Get some rest. Tell your wife to make sure you don't get your leg wet in the shower for a couple days."

"Sponge baths, hell yeah!" he says with a little more enthusiasm.

When Louie's on his way home, I help Serena clear away the garbage and set things to rights.

"You were amazing," I say.

"That was nothing. You should see me change a catheter bag."

"I'll pass," I say. "I just wanted to say thank you. I'm gonna tell Phil about it."

"Why does Philly the evil bookie give a shit that I stitched up some kid with a hurt leg?"

"Since it's his fuckin' kid you just stitched up," I told her.

"You really think it'll make any difference to him? Maybe he'll tell the thugs to leave my dad's face alone next time they beat the shit out of him as a special favor." She sounds bitter and sad.

"No, I think he'll take the usual medical fee off your dad's tab."

"Really. Since I'm a CNA we get maybe twenty bucks an hour. I figure this could save me about twelve dollars off my dad's bill at that rate."

"Doctor's fee for a house call at after midnight, which this is, runs about five g's."

"You're kidding."

"That's his only son. Better make it eight grand."

"That's half what my dad owes."

"You think he'd rather have sixteen grand and a dead son? Louie, that smart-mouth boy you just sewed up is about to be a first-time father. Lynette's due the first of September. What do you think it's worth to Louie's dad to see him hold that baby when it's born?"

"Just because I was in the right place at the right time doesn't mean I'm entitled to crazy amounts of money for thirty minutes of first aid," she protests.

"I'm the boss around here, for one thing, and I'm offering you something you earned. Why are you arguing?" I ask, incredulous.

"If you make Philly forgive part of the debt, that's not really me paying it back in full."

"Is this a matter of pride for you? Look at it like you found a good coupon code online and you used it. I'm gonna go have a word with Philly, but you go ahead and wash up."

"Tell Foz that I'll be out in a minute."

"He knows you're in here with me. He's not gonna dock your wages," I say to her.

I still can't believe how calm and skilled she was when Louie was stretched out bleeding on top of an old desk. Add in her integrity, not wanting a free ride, discounting the idea that she deserved to have half the debt eliminated for what she'd done and she is proving herself to be one hell of a woman.

I go to the corner and walk past Philly's private security detail.

"You hear?" I ask.

"Yeah, he texted me a picture. I opened it up thinkin' it was another stupid meme about the election or something, and here's his leg blown open right there on my screen for Christ sake," Philly says.

"New waitress fixed him up. She's working here ‘cause you had her dad beat up."

"Yeah, I know. Real piece of shit," Philly shakes his head like he wants to spit or something.

"I told her what she did tonight was worth five thousand easy, maybe eight cause it's your son."

"Fuck, yeah it is. Lynnette told me she was sending him here right after he messaged me that picture. She was pissed off. Never cross a pregnant woman, Jacky. Take my advice."

"You should take that advice. When I tell her that you're still charging interest on that debt after Serena saved Louie's leg at least, and maybe his life, I can guarantee they won't name that kid after you."

"I'll be lucky if she doesn't offer to disown my ass and tell that child he's only got one grandpa."

"Keep that in mind when you balance your books," I tell him. "I don't tell you how to run your end of the business. I just take my cut off the top. Now I'm making a suggestion: you ask yourself if Louie's life is worth eight grand to you."

He nods up at me gravely, and I walk away.