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“Not really our afternoon, is it?” he teased, knocking his arm against mine.
“Mother fucker,” I growled as pain flared up my shoulder from the impact against the bullet wound. “I fucking hate you.”
“I know,” he said softly. “Except you don’t. And you never have.”
Yeah well…now didn’t seem like a good time to talk about that, so I just put my head down, shoved my hands in my pockets and headed toward the motel, praying we could get checked in without anyone noticing I was shot…or a wanted terrorist.
Chapter Six
~Max~
When I got up to the room, Seamus was sitting in a chair, his jacket and shirt on the floor as blood trickled down his bare arm. The landline was on speaker with Zane talking so loudly his voice was practically echoing in the small space.
“I can’t bring you in,” Zane said harshly. “You’re a shoot on sight terror suspect.”
“Funny enough, I actually figured that part out,” Seamus said, rolling his eyes as he looked down at the bullet wound in his arm.
“Oh, get yourself shot, did you?” Zane teased.
I couldn’t hold back a snort of humor and Seamus shot me a dirty look, but I just shrugged. He was fine, therefore I felt it was okay to find the situation funny.
“Look, you and Pony need to stay put,” Zane continued. “Every law enforcement agency on the planet has you on a watchlist right now. It’s going to take us time to clear this up and I can’t have you wandering around the streets of D.C. getting shot, again, or arrested. You’re a twenty-million-dollar weapon and Jack would be pretty pissed if I lost you.”
“Thanks for your concern,” Seamus said. “Just don’t forget about me here, okay?”
“You’re near the top of my priority list,” Zane promised before disconnecting.
“Near the top,” I said, grinning at Seamus. “That’s gotta feel good.”
“Feels better than my arm,” Seamus admitted.
“I’ll get that patched up.” I held up the bag of supplies I’d purchased at the drugstore across the street, then upended it onto the bed, spilling its contents onto the mattress. “We’ve got a sewing kit, dental floss, airplane bottles of whiskey, super glue, bandages, antiseptic and…damn…they forgot my partridge and my pear tree.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying this,” he muttered. “Can you just stitch this up so I can stop bleeding all over the place, please?”
“Shut up, you big baby,” I said, grabbing one of the bottles of whiskey and tossing it to him. “Drink that.”
I snagged one of the glasses from the sideboard and poured a second bottle of whiskey into it before dropping one of the needles from the sewing kit inside, then lighting a match and adding it as well, watching the blue flame dance across the liquor before it dissipated.
“You learn that as a field medic?” Seamus asked, getting to his feet and following me toward the bathroom.
“Nah, on the streets of Detroit actually,” I admitted. “When I was a medic, we had actual supplies.” I stared around the room, then pointed toward the toilet. “Sit backward and rest your chest against the tank.”
I turned the faucet as hot as it would go on the tub, grabbed some washcloths and settled onto the edge of the tub next to Seamus.
“You need another bottle?” I asked him, leaning over to wet the washcloth as I watched his face.
“Save it for after,” he said.
“Clean up your arm for me.” I handed him the washcloth before turning once again so I could scrub my hands beneath the scalding water. When they were as clean as they were going to get, I turned back to him and fished the needle out of the cup I’d sat next to myself.
“Before you got back,” Seamus said, watching as I thread a length of floss through the eye of needle. “Zane was saying that whoever is behind all of this managed to leak the names of a couple dozen assets around the world to both foreign governments and some media outlets. Merlin discovered all kinds of breaches at the Pentagon and apparently Phoenix Squad was part of it.”
“So it’s not just you in danger?” I asked. “This is a mess.”
“My arm?”
“No. That’s clean, actually.” I blew out a sigh. “I mean the situation.”
