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Sneaks scowled. “Fucking Tilpos.”
Joe wasn’t sure if that was a gang or a person’s name. He hoped the mic picked it up. It would give the team outside more information. “Turf war?”
Sneaks’ gaze moved to his brother and back. “No. One of their bastards shot him down on the basketball court. Supposed to be neutral territory.”
Gang name then. “Gogo was playing?”
For just a moment, Sneaks’ face eased. “Yeah. Gogo’s good. Real good. Good enough to make a life for himself and get out of this hellhole.”
Joe waited. Sounded like Sneaks didn’t want his brother to be a lifelong gangbanger. Was the gang their only family? That was often the only choice some kids could make if their parents weren’t on scene or were part of that life.
“Gogo was taking on three kids and winning.”
Again the ghost of a smile.
“Always winning. One of the damn Tilpos came around the corner and just shot him while he went up for a three-pointer. He ain’t even in high school yet and they just shot him.”
Joe sighed internally. He hoped like hell the kid was going to live and play ball again. He wasn’t even old enough to have a driver’s license and he was lying there with a bullet in his gut.
“Clamp.” The surgeon’s decisive demand had him turning toward the table. Casilda handed a clamp and then turned back to the machine that started beeping.
Lia looked up at Joe and her gorgeous dark eyes were pleading. “I need your help. Now. Get over here and grab the suction tube.”
Lia hoped the cop wasn’t squeamish because if he fainted on her, Gogo might not make it. Normally she had a team helping her with an injury this extensive, but she hadn’t wanted anyone else in the vicinity of the gun.
This guy with the intense eyes and sexy voice had volunteered his way into her OR, so he was fair game.
Without hesitation, he moved beside her. He picked up the correct tool. “This?”
“Yes. Aim it about a centimeter above my middle finger. Don’t let it touch anything. Try to mop up the blood. Is the fresh blood flowing, Casilda?”
“All set now, Doctor.”
Lia clamped the bleeding area and quickly sewed another patch. Hearing that the kid under her hands was fourteen at the most was heartbreaking. Add in that he aspired to be more than a gang member had her doubling down on her determination to save him.
The cop didn’t appear to be in danger of fainting, so she kept aiming orders his way until the immediate danger was past.
“Patient’s readings are stable.”
Casilda’s voice had her blowing out a breath of relief. Now to keep him that way. For the next hour, she tuned out everything except fixing the kid.
When she was sure he was going to live, she focused on making sure he wouldn’t have to deal with a colostomy bag. When that was assured, she tried to fix every last bit to ensure he’d play basketball again.
When she was sewing the final layer back up, Casilda’s soft voice surprised her. “Well done, Doc. That was a thing of beauty.”
“He’s not gonna die?” The young man’s voice shook.
Lia blinked herself fully back into full awareness, always a struggle when she transitioned back to the regular world from surgery. “He’s not going to die. I’ve patched every injury I could find. He’s going to be sore for a long while and he’s going to need some help in recovery, some therapy, but he’ll play basketball again.”
She felt the cop move away from her, but she kept her eyes on Sneaks.
His deep voice brought the boy’s attention to him. “You play ball too, Sneaks?”
“Not like Gogo. No one plays like Gogo.”
Joe kept talking. “With a name like Sneaks, I figure you’ve got some athletic skills yourself.”
Casilda handed Lia the instruments without a word and monitored Gogo’s vitals. Lia kept her focus on Sneaks. He was probably exhausted physically and emotionally at this point. And scared.
