Page 51 of Bent, Not Broken

I rolled my eyes, and as though he could see it, he laughed harder. Maybe I made a noise.

“Okay, I might not be perfect. I’m a little bit bent, but not broken.”

“If you ask my British partner, bent has another meaning altogether. I know, I’ve been learning the slang since he started driving with me.”

“You should teach me some. One of the Kings is British. He came over to America when he was a teenager, his mom sent him here to his American dad with his brother. I still don’t know what he says sometimes.”

I frowned. No, that would be too coincidental. “What’s his name?”

He made a sound then sighed. “Hayden. Why?”

Shit. I glanced out the windshield for Paxton, who’d only just reached the front of the long line at the hot dog stand and leaned into the window to order. It couldn’t be his missing brother, right?

“Evan? Why?”

I didn’t get to answer. Sounds of screaming outside caught my attention. I frowned and glanced out the window, where two women were in the middle of a fist fight. One of them, scrappy with long black hair and tattoos galore, punched the other, an obviously fake blonde, making her stumble to the ground. But the first didn’t give the other a chance to get up before she was on top of her, screaming about a boyfriend she’d slept with.

I sighed. “I have to go break up a cat fight. We’ll talk soon, okay?”

Madden let out a huff of a laugh. “Sure. Bye, cowboy.”

Snorting, I ended the call and stepped out of the car. Paxton was already there, in between the two women and trying to break them apart. One of them spat at the other, but the spit landed on Paxton’s cheek instead. He grimaced and took a step back. By that time, I got there with my hands raised.

“Ladies, stand down now or we will take you into custody.” I used my strong, authoritative voice, the one that usually had people backing away, but it didn’t work this time.

“You fucking whore. You slept with my man.” The tattooed woman threw herself at the blonde, and I knew then it was time to get between them. The black-haired woman came at the blonde and grabbed her arms in a tight grip. She screamed like a banshee, and I winced at the pain in my ears from it. I shoved between the women, breaking them apart.

“Fuck you, bitch,” the blonde snapped behind my back. “I’m gonna fuck you up.”

I turned to tell her to shut her mouth, when I saw her raise her arm, a small pink handgun clutched shakily in her hands, almost like she was afraid to use it. I didn’t get time to warn her to put the gun down before pain exploded in my left collarbone, right near my neck, and I opened my mouth to yell in pain—but all that came out was a gasp. The ability to breathe grew harder, and my breaths sounded wet and gurgly to my own ears.

Shouts and screams filled the eating area, but my world tilted and tossed, with lights dancing in front of my eyes. Everything in my vision grew blurry, nothing but distortions of colors as my knees buckled beneath me and I landed on them hard. I thought I saw Paxton tackle the woman, but I wasn’t quite sure because I tumbled forward onto my stomach with a groan. Then the pain had me and my whole body twisted with agony for a few seconds before it narrowed to the front of my shoulder.

I didn’t know what was happening. Someone was grabbing me and turning me over to my back. There were more shouts, and I thought I heard Paxton radioing for an ambulance.

Sirens.

More lights.

Someone saying my name.

Hands pressed into my wound to stop the bleeding. It was all a blur of time and agony, and all I wanted to do was sleep.

“Evan.”

“Officer Slater, can you hear me?”

“Evan, stay with us!”

Was everyone speaking? Different people? I didn’t know. The voices ran together, and everything hurt. It hurt, and breathing was hard. Every time I inhaled, it felt like I was half underwater in my right lung.

“Hurts.” That was my voice, wet and wheezy.

“I know, Evan. I know. We have to deal with your gunshot wound, then we’ll give you some pain meds.”

I didn’t recognize the voice, but as I squinted, tried to figure out who the blurred shape was, I came up with nothing but some green scrubs that told me I was probably at the hospital. I gasped, gurgled, and tried hard to push out the one word I really wanted to say.

“Mad… den.”