The aloof doctor arrives at Callahan House with his fedora and leather medical bag, offering few words before he sets to work in Ronan’s office.
Standard considering he’s been stitching up criminals longer than I’ve been alive.
He doesn’t even blink when he walks into a room full of bleeding Irishmen. It’s all part of a normal day at work for him. He’s the underworld’s treasured private physician for a reason.
Tonight he’s got plenty to do. Between me and Lochlan, we’ll make sure he earns his paycheck.
He removes the bullet fragments from Lochlan’s gunshot wound first, then moves onto stitching him up. I’m waiting my turn in one of the armchairs, shirtless and bruised up like a piece of fruit from the produce section.
Fights always leave you feeling like hell afterward.
But it’s especially rough when going toe-to-toe with apowerhouse like Sharapova. I’ve got bruises and swelling all over, along with my brow that’s been split open and the graze on my shoulder that’s still bleeding.
Ronan stands by the fireplace, arms crossed and a disapproving, agitated look on his face. He seems torn between going off on us and congratulating us for what we accomplished.
“You’re lucky to have made it out alive,” he says. “Only three of you barging onto Fedorov’s main estate? You know what a suicide mission that was?”
“Yet here we are,” Lochlan replies through gritted teeth as Hino pokes away at his flesh with a needle and thread. “Alive… and mostly in one piece.”
“Mostly.” He shakes his head. “It was fucking stupid.”
None of us object to that remark. It wasn’t only fucking stupid what we did, it was risky as hell.
But we knew that going in.Iknew that the moment I made the decision to abandon my match at Madison Square Garden and go rescue Jhene.
“Do not worry,” Hino says coolly. “You’re not the only ones who needed patching up tonight. My son was up to some mischief of his own, it seems.”
I glance over at the Japanese doctor, my mind going back to what I’ve seen tonight. I’m pretty sure I know who the other visitor the Raguzins had tonight was.
“Your son’s Kai Hino, right? He wouldn’t’ve paid Fedorov Raguzin a visit tonight, would he?”
Hino gives no hint either way. His face remains neutral, his ministrations on Lochlan skillful and steady handed.
“I don’t discuss family business,” he says. “My son does as he wishes.”
Soon the Japanese doctor moves onto me, spending the next half hour treating the battle wounds I’ve collected over the night.
Once done, he packs up his bag and heads out the door.
Ronan closes it after him. “You should’ve told me. Before you went charging off on your little rescue mission, you should’ve come to me.”
“What would that’ve done?” I fire back. “You’re telling me you would’ve offered up some buttonmen? Loaned me some firepower? We both know you wouldn’t’ve lifted a finger to help me get Jhene back.”
He doesn’t bothering denying it, simply scowling in answer. He strolls across the office and throws himself into the chair behind his desk.
“Still stupid and reckless.”
“Trust us, Ro. Nobody’s disputing that,” Lochlan says, green eyes gleaming with dark humor. “We’re aware shit could’ve ended a lot worse than it did. But look at it this way—from what the stray told us, Fedorov took a bullet to the gut. He was bleeding out when she left him. So you and the clan benefit from our little reckless mission.”
“That does work in our favor,” Ronan admits.
“There’s still a chance he might not be dead.” I wince walking over to the minibar to fix myself a glass of whiskey. I’ve got two broken ribs and it hurts to even breathe, let alone walk. “But even if he survived, a wound like that’s gonna slow down a man as old and frail as he is.”
“Sounds like it might leave the Bratva scrambling to regroup.”
“Except when Rurik returns,” Lochlan points out. “Seems he was out of town. Missed all the action. He’ll be coming home to find out his dear ol’ dad’s knocking on death’s door.”
Ronan waves an unconcerned hand. “We’ll handle Rurik when that time comes.”
