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“What’s the prognosis, Doc?” Wyatt said.
Kate glared at him. “You know what I’m going to tell you.”
“That I should go to the hospital,” Wyatt said. “And you know what I’m going to tell you.”
“That you can’t go to a hospital,” Kate said. “Stupid.”
“Gunshot wounds in hospitals lead to a lot of questions that we can’t answer right now,” Wyatt said. “Even with local PD on our side.”
“Well,” Kate said, sitting back now that she’d had a good look at the wound, “God must love morons, because it doesn’t look like the bullet hit an artery or the bone. It passed straight through, so I don’t have to dig it out.”
“See?” Wyatt said. “No problem.”
“Not exactly. I still need to clean out any debris that got carried into the wound, and stitch you up. It’s going to hurt, Wyatt.”
“I’m sure a part of you is at least a little happy about that,” Wyatt said with a weak grin. “Make me learn my lesson, and all that.”
Griz couldn’t take it anymore. He had to say something, he couldn’t just stand here and watch like a useless bystander.
“Wyatt, I…” he said, “…is he going to be all right, Kate?”
“Just stay back, Griz,” Kate said. “I need to do some work here.”
Her voice was hard, harder than he’d ever heard it. Griz wasn’t sure if she was mad at him or just upset at seeing Wyatt hurt.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said.
“Like I said, he got lucky,” Kate said. “From the looks of how shot-up that van of yours is, it seems you all got very lucky that I’m not patching up more holes in any of the rest of you.”
“If I could’ve taken that bullet for him…” Griz said.
“Well, you couldn’t, and you didn’t,” Kate said. “So clear out and let me work, okay? Go.”
Griz lingered, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He didn’t know what to do with himself; he certainly wasn’t doing any good standing here, and he seemed to be annoying Kate by looking over her shoulder. Still, it didn’t feel right to leave Wyatt. Not when it felt like it was his fault that Wyatt had been shot.
“Go on, brother,” Wyatt said through a grimace of pain. “It’s all right. I’m in good hands.”
Griz backed away, with no idea where he was going. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. This was supposed to be an easy hit, in and out, get some payback before Death’s Head even knew what happened.
He should’ve backed off. As soon as he had seen the plan wasn’t working, he should’ve backed off and gotten out of Death’s Head territory. How could he have been so stupid? He’d been so wrapped up in getting revenge for his dad getting shot that he’d gotten his brother shot as well.
Wyatt had seen it coming. His dad would’ve seen it coming, as well. Only him, big dumb Griz, would stumble like a dummy into that shitstorm.
As he backed up, he bumped into someone, and nearly fell over, until he turned and saw that it was Becca. She, too, looked like she didn’t know what to do with herself as Kate worked on Wyatt.
“You’re here?” Griz said. “I didn’t see you come in.”
“Yeah, I heard that something… I came with Kate,” Becca said. “Were you hurt?”
“No.”
“Good,” she said. “I was worried… I mean, I was a little worried.”
He heard Wyatt groan loudly as Kate worked on him, and then he said to Becca, “Can I talk to you someplace else? I have to get out of this room.”
“Sure, okay,” Becca said. “It’s not like I’m doing anyone any good standing around here. Where should we go?”
“There’s a couple of rooms upstairs,” he said. “Sometimes one of the guys will crash there. Should be quiet.”
