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I take a deep breath, trying to chill. “Not sure yet. I guess we’ll see.”
He nods, a satisfied look on his face. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.” And with that, he turns and walks away, leaving me confused as fuck.
I close the door, leaning against it for support. What the hell just happened? And what do I do now?
One thing’s for sure.
My life just got a hell of a lot more complicated.
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
Nova
Sitting inside the makeshift hospital room with Banger, I stare at the monitor that’s telling me he should be awake. His eyes should be open, and he should be conscious, but he’s not. The longer I sit here torturing myself, the more my mind gets the better of me.
Instead of staring at Banger’s dark hair and skin, I see a rainbow of men and women with holes in their head, their arms, their chests. All of them fatal. All of them dead.
Because of me.
“Goddammit, Banger. You’re killing me, man.” My hands shake and my heart races with the force it takes to will Banger into consciousness in my mind. It’s no use. “Come the fuck on, man.”
His fingers twitch, and I’m certain my mind has finally snapped. I am absolutely fucking positive that I need to make another appointment with my head shrinker so he can up my meds because I’m clearly hallucinating. A groan sounds, and I freeze, looking down at my brother beginning to stir.
“Banger? Thank fuck, brother.” I grip his hand tight, smiling for the first time in days. “Open your eyes.”
He groans again, and his eyelids flutter, but they don’t open. “The fuck,” he growls, pulling on the tube in his throat.
“Hang on, man.” I work quickly to remove the tube and get him some ice chips. “You’ve been out of it for a long time. Take it easy, brother. Fuck, I never thought I’d be so glad to hear your raggedy-ass voice.”
He grunts or maybe he laughs. It’s all the same right now. Banger motions for more ice.
It takes a minute for my hands to stop shaking, for my mind to process that Banger is awake. He’s alive, not another of my failures.Breathe in, breathe out.I repeat the words over and over until I’m in control.
“How long?”
Of course. “Couple of weeks.”
His dark brows rise in surprise. His fingers twitch a moment before his hands are on his body, taking stock of his injuries, which are mostly concentrated center mass. Several bullets went through his chest and stomach. “Fuck.”
“You were shot up pretty good,” I tell him. “I had to put you in a coma to help with healing. You’re at the clinic. Do you remember anything from that day?”
Banger’s brows knit together, and he shakes his head. “Willow?”
I shake my head and employ a rip-the-bandage approach. “She was gone when we got there. Bloodthirsty Devils have her, but we’re working on getting her back.”
“Gone? Where?”
“I know, brother. I know. We’ve done everything we can to find her, but these gangs don’t operate the way we do.” I sigh, that helpless feeling returning all over again. “We even have Doherty on the case. I promise you we’re doing everything we can.”
I don’t mention Maggie because the last time we spoke, she wasn’t in a helping-out kind of mood.
He nods a few times, eyes growing heavy from the painkillers flowing through his veins. “Fucking Demon.”
Banger mutters mostly to himself, and, at first, I think the pain meds have knocked him back into sleep, but he’s still awake. “You know, I hate that fucking gang.” He motions for more ice chips. “I was so young.” He shakes his head, disgust written all over his face. “Where’s Willow?”
“We’re lookin’, man. We’re looking.” I stay beside the bed, sitting, listening, watching him closely.
He nods and drifts back to sleep. I sit with him for hours, just waiting and watching. Dude’s been to hell and back. Sophie brings me a sandwich from the deli, and I sit and eat it silently. Thinking about Maggie and what all this means.
