Page 53 of Business vs. Pleasure

With August calmed and numbed, Ricardo got to work. First pulling out a few remaining splinters embedded in the wound, then disinfecting it again before carefully suturing it back together. It wasn’t life-threatening, just deep and jagged. And maybe Ricardo was being overly cautious. That kind of came with the territory when August’s safety was involved. Seeing him go down in that doorway as the shotgun had gone off—Ricardo’s mind had been instantly full of too many worst-case scenarios. Several of which he’d already come way too close to seeing play out for real.

This was a bad idea. We never should have come out of retirement.

Boredom can be fixed. Losing August can’t.

Why was I so damn stupid?

“So who do we chase after next?” August asked, breaking through Ricardo’s mental spiral.

Ricardo glanced at him before focusing on knotting the first suture. “What do you mean?” He caught up fast, though. “Darrow or NightPigeon.”

“Exactly. We’re contracted for Darrow, and I don’t know if my pride can handle being one of the failures that makes his completion bonus bigger.”

Ricardo grunted. That was a point of pride for him—collecting those bonuses, not causing them. Over his dead body was someone else getting an extra twenty-five percent because he missed his mark. Absolutely the fuck not.

August went on, “But as long as NightPigeon is trying to fuck with us—and now that he knows we’re on to him—he’s a problem too.”

“Hmm.” Ricardo considered it as he moved on to the next suture. “I think he might be our bigger problem. As much as I don’t want to let Darrow gain any ground or let someone else take him out, that bonus won’t do us any good if we’re dead.”

He shuddered before he pierced August’s skin again.

It won’t do me any good if you’re dead.

“So what do you think we should do?” August asked quietly. “Like, prioritize taking out that stupid clown, obviously, but how? Do we chase Darrow down and see if that flushes out NightPigeon? Or do we just say fuck Darrow and hunt down that bitchy thorn in our sides.”

“We don’t know how to find him outside of when he’s finding us.”

August made an unhappy noise. “Ugh. You’re right.”

“Are you just now figuring this out?”

August flipped him off.

Ricardo chuckled and continued suturing. He paused to add some more lidocaine just to be on the safe side even though he only needed to do one or two more sutures. No point in taking chances. “So… Darrow, then. Except we don’t know where he is either.”

“Motherfucker.”

Ricardo couldn’t argue with that. He finished stitching up August’s wound, covered it with a clean bandage, and peeled off his gloves.

“How bad is it?” August poked at the bandage. “Am I going to scar? Because so help me, if I end up with a scar…”

“Scars add character.”

“Fuck you.”

“You don’t mind my scars, do you?”

“That’s different.” August rolled his shoulders, then stretched his neck from side to side. “You’ve got that rugged badass thing going on. I don’t.”

“I’m sure it’ll add to your delicate Victorian child aesthetic.”

“My what?” August rose and faced him. “How dare you?”

Ricardo cocked a brow. “Don’t you mean, ‘well, I never!’?”

“Oh, fuck you. Where’s my shirt?”

“Sit. We’re not done yet.”