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“I’m on my way.”
She’s gone before I can tell her not to bother. The last thing I need right now are my two worlds colliding, but it seems that’s exactly what’s going to happen.
Tossing my cell on Hank’s desk, I keep my fingers on his pulse while using my other hand to check him out. I find a large, egg-shaped lump just above his temple.
Someone hit him with something pretty fucking hard, and when I know he is safe and sound at the hospital, I’m going to find out who and hit them back with a brick or a baseball bat. Then I’ll feed them to Charlie.
I press Hank’s head against my stomach and hold him to me while I wait for people to arrive. I feel strangely separate from it all. I know I should be clinical about it and catalog everything so I can track this asshole down, but I can’t right now. I can’t leave Hank slumped in the chair as if he were just another mark. He’s not. He’s my friend, and someone broke in here and hurt him.
My emotions are all over the place, veering from worried to downright pissed. If this is because of me, if I brought trouble to the door and inadvertently placed Hank in the firing line, I’ll never forgive myself.
I hear sirens in the distance getting louder, but I don’t move from my spot until Hank starts groaning. I crouch in front of him and grab both of his hands in mine.
“Hank?”
Slowly, he opens his eyes. I can see how much pain he’s in without him having to speak. I swallow hard, feeling utterly helpless as he fights to get his bearings.
“What happened?” he groans.
“I don’t know. I found you like this. You don’t remember?”
He squints before shaking his head. “I parked out front so I could see the damage to the window. I let myself in, took a quick look around, and couldn’t see anything out of place, so I figured it was vandals and came back here to call you.
“I remember walking into the room and bam, blinding pain.”
“So either they were waiting for you, or they were looking for something, and you disturbed them.”
I look around his messy desk and frown. “Any idea what they could have been looking for?”
“I don’t keep any cash lying around, and anything important I keep in the safe.”
He nods toward the van Gogh Sunflower knockoff painting on the wall, which is crooked.
“I’m guessing you didn’t leave it like that.”
He curses as I move toward it and lift the frame to show the safe underneath.
“Doesn’t look like they got in.” I look toward the desk, then back at Hank. “You don’t still keep the key on the desk do you?”
He grins but winces. “When I first opened this place, I rarely remembered to close it, let alone lock it. The key sat gathering dust in that ashtray thing Mike made me when he was a kid. Then a few years ago, some punks broke in, trashed the place, and emptied the safe, which held the week’s earnings since I hadn’t made it to the bank.”
I shake my head, remembering how it was back then. Now everything is done online. I’m not sure we even need a safe anymore.
“The key is kept on my keychain now, with the others.”
“And they are?” I look around, not spotting them.
“In my pocket. I can feel them digging into me.”
I look up at the commotion and see a police officer and a medic in the doorway. I usher them inside.
“I found him like this, but he couldn’t have been out of it for more than ten minutes. He says whoever clocked him on the head hit him when he walked in here. At a glance, I can’t see any more injuries, but I’ve been reluctant to move him.”
“The broken window out front the reason you’re both down here at this hour?” the cop asks as the paramedic makes his way over to Hank.
“Yeah. The alarm company called Hank, and Hank called me. He didn’t want me to come. Shit like this happens in this part of town, you know. I was awake anyway and figured I might as well. Thank God I did.”
“Did you see anything else strange when you got here?”
