“Doc?”
“You should come down to the hospital. Room 217.”
“Why?” he asked again.
“Because Foster’s been shot and I’m sure he’d like to see you.”
“Is he alive?” Sage asked.
“Clearly, or I would have been sending you to the morgue.” I did not have the time or patience for that man.
“Is he awake?”
“He’s conscious,” I offered. “But high, it looks like. I don’t know because I had to step out to attend my fiancé, who came in at the same time as him.”
“Shit,” Sage muttered. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
I ended the call and tossed Foster’s phone back onto the table.
“You know the bullet I took was meant for him,” Foster muttered, his words soft and slurred.
“I’m well aware, Foster,” I snapped. “But this is not the conversation you want to have with me right now.”
I turned my back on Foster and tangled my fingers into my hair, letting out a frustrated groan.
“How did this happen?” I asked, kicking one of the guest chairs toward the bed and sitting down.
“Heard from Sharp.”
“You said the threat was mitigated,” I reminded him.
“I thought it was. We thought she was done when we took out everyone she kept sending after us.”
“You thought wrong.”
“I know.” Foster tried to shift his weight and groaned, settling back against the bed with a frustrated sigh.
“What happened to this woman? Carmen?”
“Sharp dealt with her.”
“Dealt how?”
Foster opened one of his eyes and rolled it at me.
“Are the cops going to come talk to Kevin about this?” I asked, ignoring the implications of his expression. “They already came around because his general contractor went missing.”
“Well, the contractor isn’t coming back,” Foster said weakly. “But no cops this time. Sharp handled it.”
“Sharp handles a lot of things, it seems like.”
Foster nodded once.
“Is he going to handle this?” I asked. “Since you clearly haven’t?”
“Ronan.” Foster sighed. “Is Kevin okay?”
“Kevin is fine.” I leaned forward in the chair, propping my forehead on the side of Foster’s bed. “He passed out after you got brought in. Just bumped his head.”
