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1
BARTHOLOMEW
I sat in the waiting room, my arm wrapped in a tight gauze. My jacket was bloodied and ruined, so I’d shoved it in a garbage can after I got Laura into the hands of the doctors. Now I sat there, the TV in the corner showing the twenty-four-hour news cycle, an older couple in the opposite corner, eyeing me warily from time to time—like they knew I was bad news.
Iwasbad news.
Bleu entered the room then slowly approached me.
I wasn’t in the mood to talk, but I couldn’t ignore my responsibilities. “How many men did we lose?”
“Two.”
“Who?”
Bleu sat beside me. “Hector and John.”
It could have been worse, but it was still a stinging blow. “And how many did they lose?”
“A lot.”
“Leonardo?”
“He survived. I think a bullet grazed his leg.”
Bastard.
Bleu glanced at my arm but didn’t ask if I was okay. “What are your orders?”
For the first time in my life, I didn’t have any.
“We have to retaliate.”
I couldn’t. We made a deal—and I was a man of my word. “There will be no retaliation.”
Bleu turned his head to look at me. “They opened fire when we left.”
“He never guaranteed our safety.”
Bleu always followed orders and kept his head down. Did as he was told. But not today. “We can’t let him get away with this—”
“Bleu.” My head rested against the back wall, and I turned my head slightly to look at him. “You think I give a shit about anything right now? Until she gets out of surgery, I’m mentally incapacitated.”
Bleu had a flash in his eyes, an urge to argue, but he made the wise decision of keeping his mouth shut. “I’ll wait for your call.” He left the waiting room.
The couple left too. Must have overheard our conversation.
Now I sat there alone.
Minutes later, someone else joined me.
“Where is she?” He surveyed the sea of chairs, as if she’d be sitting there. He came over to me, frantic gaze, his body clean like he’d scrubbed all the blood and dirt away before he came here. “The lady at the desk said she was in surgery—”
“That’s where she is. In surgery.”
Victor gave a heavy sigh before he dragged his fingers down his face. “Is she going to be okay?”
“She’s tough. She’ll be fine.”
