“But Garve!”the younger guy complained, his body primed to let a punch explode, as Gideon sat furious, zip-tied to an office chair, and glowered.
“Go ahead,” Gideon snarled before hawking blood from his already broken nose and spitting on the guy’s shoes.“You think a little pain is gonna save you now?”
“I’ll show you a little pain—Garve!”
Garve clocked the guy in the jaw and stood, body between Joey and Gideon, a force to be reckoned with.Joey thought unhappily that this guy was wasted as a hood, or whatever capacity he served under Sons of the Blood, because that was some solid-balls leadership right there.
“We’re dosing them,” he said.“If they die from heroin, it’ll be easier to deny we had anything to do with it.If they live, they’ll be killed and dumped way far away from here.I don’t know how they found us, but they’refeds,Rog.Feds do check-ins.Somebodyis gonna come lookin’ for ’em, and they’re harder to move when dead.You gotta trust me on this.I know.So shut up and get the doses from Big Bitch’s drawer.She’s always got four or five ready to go in case the boys get antsy.Too many of our boys are methed out—the horse chills them until they can come down.”
Crosby had told them about the meth, but the heroin—that was something new.
Joey marveled that he was storing all these facts in his aching noggin when odds were good he was going to die with his first needleful of heroin.
Garve had wrapped the constrictor around Joey’s arm first, and as he flicked the crux of Joey’s arm to get the vein to pop out, he leaned close.
“You let my kid go,” he whispered, so quietly Joey almost couldn’t hear him over the ringing in his ears.“For that you only get half a dose.”
Joey grunted.“If the other guy dies, I will burn this place to the ground.”
The man flicked surprised eyes to Joey’s, and Joey wasn’t sure what glared back at him, but he got one solid nod in return.
“’Sides,” Joey mumbled as the needle slid into the vein.“’Mm Stevie Carlyle’s kid.You kill me, he’ll burn your neighborhoods, your families, your whole family line.Only person who fucks with Stevie Carlyle’s kid is Stevie Carlyle.”
He heard the gasps—more than one—and Rog spoke up.
“Holy fuckin’ Jesus, Garve, you hear that?Stevie Carlyle will fuck us up!”
“Another reason to only give ’em half a dose,” Garve said, but Joey caught the reluctance there and wondered if that was because they were no longer square.
“Me and Gideon live,” Joey slurred as the drug made its way into his vein, “he’ll be too fuckin’ busy to ever hear your name.”
His eyelids flickered, but he kept them on the syringe and the needle.How much was left?Five mil?Three?Was it enough?
All the pain faded, so, so sweet, and then his vision darkened, soft and gentle, and he began to sing.
“I WASnot singing,” he protested later, in the hospital bed next to Gideon’s.
“Swear to fuckin’ God,” Harding told him, his voice harsh with worry—and with battle.Did their team come after them?Oh yeah, and they brought the fury of hell with them.
All Joey knew was one minute he was in the comforting arms of oblivion, and the next Harman Blodgett, Clint Harding’s significant other, apparently, a slender man with a charming smile, a receding hairline, and balls of adamantium, had his shoulder under Joey’s arm and was helping him down the back stairway of the warehouse while Iwo Fuckin’ Jima was going on in the front.
“Gid?”Joey had slurred.
“Right behind us—” Blodgett began, and then Gideon started screaming “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” at the top of his bloody lungs.
“Oh,” Joey said.“We’re doing that now.”
And then he joined him.But that wasconscious, he told himself virtuously.Gideon was singing “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” and Joey was hispartner—theyhadto sing together.
“I mean, the Gordon Lightfoot thing,” Joey said, holding Harding’s eyes and nodding.“Had to do that.Right, Gid?Couldn’t leave you hanging.”
“My baby boy never leaves me hanging,” Gideon said, and he sounded sober as a judge too.Then he launched into “Right Hand Man” fromHamilton, and Harding took a deep breath and called for the nurse.
Joey and Gideon weregroovingtoHamiltonwhen the nurse showed up, and Harding asked if there was any fucking chance the two of them would be sober enough to go on an op in a couple of hours when he got the warrant.It was a nice thing he was trying to do, let them in on serving a warrant to the top bad guys responsible for their shitty night.Joey worked hard at keeping his voice on key so Harding would know how much they loved him.
The nurse had eyed them skeptically.“Howmuch Narcan did you give them?”he asked Blodgett, who was staring at them in bemusement.
“Just the first dose,” Harm told him.“Maybe give them an hour of fluids, Clint, and let’s stitch their wounds and set Gideon’s nose at the very least.It’ll be a few hours before your judge wakes up enough to send you on your way.Might as well let them finish the concert.”
