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“Bro,” Aidan called out when he saw me enter his private room.
I knew Lena was chomping at the bit not being able to see her son as much as she wanted, and her guilt was evident with all the crap in here.
Because he was a big kid, there was a huge ass plasma screen and a games console that would make any teenage boy hard. There were things here that told me Aidan Sr. had slipped the hospital something-something to put up with all the crap she’d hauled in to make him comfortable.
“Hey Aid, how you feeling?”
“Hurts like a motherfucker.” Just like with Aoife, pain and worry shadowed his bright blue eyes. “Hot nurses, though.”
“Good view. Shame you can’t do anything about it, huh?”
He grimaced. “Don’t remind me.” Then, he grinned as he tapped his nose. “Working on it, though. Don’t count me out just yet.”
We both knew he was bullshitting. He looked like he was stuck in one of those kids’ climbing nets. From all the pulleys and wheels that kept his leg in traction, there was no way in fuck he was ready for anyone to be bouncing on top of him.
Although, a BJ was definitely possible, I calculated.
I gave him the gift I’d ordered online yesterday. It had shown up this morning—just in time.
“Know you like killing shit when you’re sick,” I told him as he crowed about the game. “Although I still think you’re too old to be playing that crap.”
He was a few months older than me, and I’d outgrown games in my early twenties. Aidan was hooked, though.
“You give with one hand and take away with the other,” he said mournfully, even as I saw the gleam of pleasure in his eyes as he looked at the gift. “Before you go, put it in for me?”
“Thought you’d want one of the nurses to do it for you. Or do you really just want a chance to study my ass?”
He smirked. “Not this morning. I call her Big Bertha. She makes Mom look like a pixie. She’s a fucking battleax.”
“Makes you piss yourself?” I teased. “Lena’s frightening as fuck when something’s upset her.”
He snickered. “Yeah, I’m shaking in myboot,” he retorted, eying the special cast he wore on his foot. When he’d been shot, he’d gone over on his ankle. Two hundred pounds of muscle meant he’d fractured that too.
I took a seat beside him and rested my elbows on my knees as we chatted.
“Get the message about the compound?” I asked about twenty minutes later after we’d shot the shit and caught up.
“Yeah. Fuckers,” he admitted, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Girls all okay?”
I nodded. “Didn’t even get over the wall. Still, they’re cunts for trying.”
“True that,” he replied. “What’s their game, Finn?”
“Fuck knows. I get that they’re pissed about us putting the shade on them with the cartel, but the Mexicans and Colombians are always fucking bickering. If it wouldn’t be about this, it would be about trade.” I shrugged. “It seems unusually excessive.”
“Makes me wonder if they’re trying to take over our territory and are using this as an excuse.”
“Well, they’d be fucking stupid if they thought that was a possibility,” I retorted, my tone dry. “We outnumber them eight to one. How the fuck would they keep things running?”
He shrugged. “They have bigger balls than dicks.”
“Chodes,” I choked out, laughing at the image.
“Yeah.” He grinned at me, and it was good to see, so good it made me fucking sentimental.
“Great to see you, bro. Sorry I’ve not been around much.” Since Aoife had left the hospital, I hadn’t visited in over a week.
“Don’t be stupid. You’re at the end of the phone if I need you, right?”
