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“I can’t believe he’s a traitor,” Cali says.
“He’s been acting strange lately. I asked him about it, and he said he was having girl problems,” Patrick mumbles then coughs.
“Fuck. What do we do about your wounds? I don’t have any bandages,” I say, getting to my knees as I pull his jacket open.
“A bandage wouldn’t help. I need a doctor. Fuck. I didn’t keep you two safe,” he mutters.
Cali puts her hand on his. “You did. You got shot trying to protect us.”
Patrick shakes his head. “I should have been more cautious. Number one rule of the mafia, always know your surroundings.”
My sister rolls her eyes. “I’m pretty sure the number one rule is don’t be a fucking traitor.”
“Don’t curse,” he scolds softly.
We giggle and shake our heads because seriously, he has two bullet wounds and he’s worried about us cursing? That’s cute.
“What do we do now?” Cali asks him.
“We need to wait. They’ll come looking for us. If we don’t stay in one spot, it’s possible they won’t find us.”
I smile. “I left a Cheeto trail.”
“Smart girl,” he says with a wink.
I blush at the compliment and remember the sandwich in my bag. “I have half of my sandwich left. We should share it to keep up our strength.”
“Good idea.” Cali nods.
After I pull it out and unwrap it, I take a bite and hold it out for Patrick. He shakes his head. “You two eat it. I’ll be fine.”
Cali narrows her eyes at him. “We’re not eating without you. Either you take a bite or we’ll all starve.”
“Jesus, you two need your asses spanked. Don’t you know you’re supposed to listen to my orders? If I say run, that means run. If I say eat the sandwich, that means eat the damn sandwich.”
I shrug and start to wrap it back up in the baggie. “We might not be in the ranks, but we’re still part of the mafia family and I’m pretty sure unless you’re a traitor, you don’t leave your family behind.”
Patrick sighs and holds out his hand. “Give me the goddamn sandwich, brat.”
With a smug smile, I pass him the sandwich. He takes a bite before handing it to Cali.
“I’m telling both of your Daddies to spank your asses when this is all over,” he grumbles.
“Worth it,” Cali says.
22
KILLIAN
“We found a trail of Cheetos,” I bark into the radio.
If the situation weren’t so serious, I’d roll my eyes over the damn Cheeto trail. But, in this moment, I have never loved a snack food so much in my life.
“Where?” Declan asks.
“We’re north of the creek. Hurry. There’s blood.”
Half a dozen replies come in. Within minutes, we’re standing in a group of men as we stare down at the blood. Bash and Angel jog toward us and, from their expressions, they know something we don’t.
