This dude was a trip. Blood and innards everywhere, and he just stood around, taking it all in like he was watching a fucking Hallmark movie.
Goddamned lunatic.
My heart dropped as a loud beep sounded from the monitor. I looked up and cursed under my breath as the alarms began to screech a deafening wail.
“BP’s dropping,” I called out.
“On it!” Sophie muttered, lifting the sheet she’d just placed over Iceman so she could examine the gaping hole in his chest. “We’ve got another bleed.” Her stare lifted to meet mine, and I watched her shoulders tense tightly. “It’s like playing whack-a-mole. The minute we plug one, another appears.”
My gaze held hers. My chin dipped, and I leveled her with a stare. “It’s gonna be a tricky motherfucker. This is Iceman, so you know the asshole’s gonna put us through the goddamned wringer. You ready for this?”
Sophie’s jaw clenched determinedly, and her lip curled while she jerked her head in a decisive nod.
Picking up the suction tube, I took a deep breath to calm my thudding heart before placing it inside my brother’s chest. “You better hold on, Stitch,” I bit out, focusing my mind on the vast job ahead. “It looks like we’re in for a fucking long night.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
DIABLO
The low beep of the heart monitor pulsed through the room, providing us with constant reassurance that Saint was alive.
The sound should have been annoying, akin to the drip, drip, drip of water torture, but instead, it was everything I needed to keep my heart settled and my mind intact.
My eyes drifted over to the other two chairs, where Boomer and Jonny slumped with their shoulders hunched, and their eyes red and bloodshot with exhaustion and a few tears.
It was hard to believe it had been twenty-four hours since the shooting. It seemed like the day had passed in the snap of my fingers, but then, I hadn’t stopped. I’d shot dead the bass player of one of the biggest rock bands in the world, and life had taken a turn of crazy that put my brand of lunacy to shame.
I shifted my gaze to Talia, who was curled up asleep in a chair.
For the last twenty-four hours, she’d had to deal with record companies and the tabloids. The label had held a press conference and everything had gone fucking loopy. It seemed that the bass player of one ofthe biggest rock bands in the entire world being shot dead after trying to kill the lead singer he’d been stalking, along with her handsome bodyguard boyfriend, was hot news.
It was morbid shit, made more so by the fact their first album, which was eighteen months old had shot back into the Billboard and streaming charts at number one, blowing all competition out of the room—excuse the pun.
Talia’s eyes fluttered open and she sighed, shifting her ass on the chair to get more comfortable. “I wish she’d wake up,” she murmured.
“The drugs are keeping her under,” I reminded her. “Sophie said, the longer she sleeps, the more she heals, which means she’ll feel less pain when she eventually does open her eyes.”
“I’ve got a bad feeling,” she stated emphatically. “What if it’s not the meds keeping her under. What if something’s wrong?”
I leaned toward her and placed my hand on his shoulder. “She’s gonna be okay. They got the bullet out, and there’s no lasting damage. Saint just needs to heal.”
Talia nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving Saint. “Why don’t you go get some rest? I’ve had a nap. I can stay with her for a while.”
I sat back in my chair and folded my arms across my chest in a stubborn move. “Not leaving.”
Talia’s head swiveled to me. “Why?”
“’Cause I’m SAA,” I explained. “It’s my job to make sure she’s safe. Iceman’s on life support, but he’s got his folks and half the club with him. I’m staying with Saint, not only because Ice would want me to, but also becauseIwant to. She was patient with me, took her time, and taught me guitar. She never dogged me, and she was kind. She’s my friend and she needs me.”
In the dim light, I noticed a glint as Talia’s eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away, murmuring, “Fair enough.”
“Gonna teach her how to shoot when she’s better,” I went on. “She won’t be in that position again. She asked me to help her the night Sam”—I paused—“when it happened. Gonna buy her a nice gun that’s not too heavy that she can keep in her purse. What’s her favorite color?”
Talia smiled and muttered, “Icy blue.”
My lips hitched. “Should’ve figured.”
We sat in silence for a while, our stares glued to Saint but our thoughts somewhere else.
