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“Why do you?”
“Emergency rooms and the bullshit that comes with gunshot wounds, of which I’ve had one. It’s stupid.”
She rubs her cheek on me. Above the antiseptic chill of hospital scents, I can pick up the warm bergamot of her, something that beats with life, heat, and Nadia.
I shouldn’t be here. I should be off looking into things, sniffing out the trail if there’s one, while it’s fresh. But Nadie needs me, so here I am.
Honestly, I think that’s the real reason I don’t like these places. There’s to much time wasted more or less spent waiting. There are things I can usually do that utilize my time.
But right now, that would mean me leaving Nadie, who I know is beating herself up, blaming herself. And nothing could tear me from her. Nothing.
The doctor finally comes out to let us know Josie’s fine, stable, and not in the ICU. They’re watching her for signs of a concussion, but the consensus is to go home.
I don’t give Nadia much choice but to leave and in the foyer of the hospital, we’re met by two cops.
“Diego.”
“Go sit, I’ll deal.” I straighten my tie and ease into my professional persona.
It’s either someone they’ve questioned that have sent them looking for me, because that’s what they’re doing, or one douche dough boy.
Money’s on the fucking latter cloaked in the former.
I wait.
“Diego Fernandez?”
“That’s me.” I offer an easy smile. “There a problem?”
“We’re concerned about your involvement with the known gangs, Landers Men and the 86s.”
“Involvement?” Sliding my hands in the pockets of my trousers, I give a puzzled look.
People are looking. Nadie most of all because she didn’t sit down.
Back when I was young, before I made my way to Dallas, I got the shit beaten out of me and found purpose and a family. I would’ve been embarrassed and enraged over this.
Now?
Curious.
They’re in a hospital. They know Nadia placed the 9-1-1 call, so someone knows enough to have the cops seek me here. Which begs me to ask—is Nadia being followed?
Douche is acting like a douche and apart from his overbearing ways, he gets I’m a threat to plans of him and Nadie and a sweet little forever.
But yeah, I’m fucking curious they sought me out in a hospital, and their first question is a thug-oriented one, not about her friend Josie.
Less is more here, so I don’t volunteer a thing.
“You’ve been seen with some of them, and Miss Reed’s nephew is a known gang member.”
“Jay’s sixteen.”
“We want to speak to him too. Where is he?”
I keep a pleasant expression on my face. “He’s out of town, I believe, freshly out of any gang involvement.”
“And you? What about you? Couldn’t find anything on you.”
