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He holds the door open to the room, and I can hear someone moving around. I guess Peterson is still here.
“I worked out some aggression,” I say.
He cocks one eyebrow. “On your face?”
I snarl at him and step inside. Dr. Peterson glances up, saying nothing, and then goes back to his stitches. He’s always been the quiet sort, and I like that. We don’t need our doctor blabbing our business to everyone. He knows the deal, and he respects it.
There are a few bandages already placed, and it looks like Fernando’s broken finger has been set. He doesn’t move, so I’m assuming he passed out or he’s under some sort of medication.
“What’s the damage?” I ask the doc.
He doesn’t pause his movements as he responds, “Contusions and cuts along extremities, one broken finger, one dislocated shoulder, possible concussion, and a broken rib.”
“What about internally?”
“It’s hard to diagnose with so little equipment, but I don’t see any signs of internal bleeding right now. Watch for abdominal pain, which might be tricky with the amount of bruising he’s got there,” he says, raising his shirt up so I can see the blue and purple spots that dot his stomach. “And watch for blood. Basically, if it’s somewhere it shouldn’t be—vomit, stool, urine—he needs to be taken to the hospital.”
I nod, listening. “How long will it take him to recover?”
“Bruises and cuts should heal up fairly quickly. The broken rib will take longer—around six weeks. And then, of course, things dealing with the brain, like the possible concussion, you never know.”
“Okay.” I stand there with my hands in my pockets and watch the doctor work. My mind races with what in the hell is going on.
Why would someone target Fernando specifically?
“When will he wake up?”
“The anesthetic shouldn’t last too much longer. I gave him a small dose. He was thrashing too much for me to stitch him up.”
“Geo, get Jimmy and some other men to move him upstairs before he wakes,” I say over my shoulder and hear his footsteps as he leaves.
This whole situation is fucked.
“Before I knocked him out, he was talking about a girl,” Peterson says, glancing up at me. “Think he got in trouble over one?”
“Possibly.”
We don’t speak anymore, but I wonder who this Fran is. And what she means to Fernando.
Is she really his sister or someone else?
She must mean a lot if he wound up like this over her.
Geo steps back in the room right as the doctor starts cleaning up.
“I’ll deposit the money in your account by morning,” I tell him.
He nods as he passes by us, holding his bag. I let Geo take over from there, watching as two of my guys come in and pick Fernando up, jostling him. They aren’t gentle, but I don’t say anything.
“Get him settled in his quarters,” I tell Geo, and he nods. “Let me know when he wakes up. I’ll be in the office.”
His expression is serious along with his movements. He knows this could mean war, and it’s the last thing we want right now. We are in the midst of creating our own plans, and now, this happens, potentially stalling and upending anything we want to do.
“Tell me what you know,”I say as soon as I step inside his room.
I couldn’t give a fuck how much pain he’s in right now. The information he has that I don’t is eating me alive. Fernando’s eyes are glassy as he looks up at me, a grimace clear on his face as he tries to sit up. Then, he grunts in pain, falling back to the mattress.
“I don’t have all fucking day,” I snarl.
