Page 60 of Venomous as a Snake

Because his car is his baby.

“The seats are leather,” I point out. “I’ll clean it myself.”

“What if it got in the floorboard?” he asks.

“On, Collin,” I snip. “What if it got on the parts of the car… But thanks for your concern. I’m not bleeding that bad.”

A bullet grazed my arm. And though it burns with a fiery passion, like a hot brand melting my skin off, it’s far from a life-threatening injury.

“It’s not good bleeding,” he remarks.

“Can you just get the first aid kit in the bathroom? Past the stairs, to the—”

“Right?”

“Left,” I correct.

He frowns, but it’s thoughtful. “Huh. Your house is the opposite of ours.”

“Collin. Kit. Now.”

“Geeze. Okay. I’m going.” He rolls his bright blue eyes as he walks away, but a moment later, he yells, “It’s not in here! Forrest just texted and said they’re chasing the shooters down.”

“Check my bathroom,” I call back as I stalk into the kitchen.

Collin bolts up the stairs, taking them three at a time, while I pat my pockets down and strip my thin jacket off. I must have left my phone in his car. I know I made it that far without losing it.

I examine my arm before wetting the corner of a dish towel to clean my wound. It’s not very deep, but it’s already bruising. From bring-your-kid-to-work-days with my dad, I know that’s nothing out of the ordinary.

There are bits of… shit in it. I don’t know what exactly, except threads from my jacket and probably some tiny rocks from the asphalt parking lot.

But I can say one thing about this situation with absolute clarity…

Soap was a terrible idea.

The stinging, burning sensation morphs into the bowels of hell escaping from my upper arm. I almost expect Pimp to come running, sensing the portal to his homeland ripping me apart.

“Son of a monkey’s cunt,” I growl.

Collin chuckles as he descends the stairs. “Couldn’t wait for help, could you?”

“It’s just a scratch,” I murmur, picking at a black thread that’s seared into my skin. “Pretty sure this is another way to summon demons. There aren’t two cats now, right?”

“I haven’t seen the first one since we came in.”

Obnoxious meowing bellows from the living room in response.

“Can’t see you, but I hear you,” Collin says, his voice raised to reach Pimp without actually yelling.

“Odd,” I drawl. “Where is Hooker?”

“Your dog?”

I grin, though it’s forced. “Satan’s accomplice?”

“He’s in your bed.”

“Hooker!” I scream.