“Okay, here, I got it!” Duncan came running back in with a small white box and frantically dumped the contents out on the coffee table. There were a few alcohol wipes, a roll of gauze, and some Band-Aids.
“That’s it?”
“I’m sorry! Okay? I fuckin’ suck! I thought there was more!”
“I’m gonna die.” Mickey stared mournfully up at the ceiling. “This is how I go. Bleeding to death because all you brought me was fuckingBand-Aids.”
“No, you’re not!” Duncan tugged at Mickey’s jacket. “Come on, let’s get this shit off, and I can totally fix it!”
Mickey was a little dizzy, and it was hard to help Duncan get his clothes out of the way. He had no idea how much blood he’d lost. They managed to get his jacket off, but when Mickey suddenly tipped forward, Duncan had to rip the sleeve of his shirt to get to the wound.
“Fuck. I’m sorry.” Mickey grunted, trying to hold himself up. He was weak, and his skin felt clammy.
“It’s okay, I got you!” Duncan swore. He pressed his hand on the wound to stop the bleeding, and he scrambled for the gauze. “Shit, shit. Okay, almost got this. Hang on, Mickey!”
The front door opened, and Cold and Alistair were there with Crybaby right behind them.
“Holy shit,” Crybaby gasped as she rushed over to Mickey’s side. “How much blood has he lost?”
“I don’t know!” Duncan snapped anxiously. “Lots?”
“Shit.”
“Hey, Boss.” Mickey was surprised his voice sounded slurred. “How’s it going?”
“Just fine, Mr. Tamerlane,” Cold said calmly. “Now, I need you to tell me what happened.”
Crybaby pushed Duncan out of her way, grabbing the gauze from his trembling hands and wrapping up Mickey’s forearm tightly.
“Took the shot. Made it look good.” Mickey made a face. He was starting to feel sick. “Someone else shot him. There was another shooter. Then they tried to take me out… had to have known… they had to have known I was there…”
“Mr. Ricci is definitely dead?”
“Very dead,” Mickey croaked.
Cold gritted his teeth and struggled to contain his fury.
“Boss, he’s bleeding bad,” Crybaby warned, her hand still clamped down on Mickey’s arm. She held it up high, and her grip never let up for a second.
“Did you see anyone?” Cold demanded, his angry gaze now zeroed in on Duncan.
“No! I was down in the car, waiting like I was supposed to!” Duncan cried. “I didn’t see shit! I heard a bunch of shots, but I didn’t know what had happened!”
“What about the ledgers? Where the fuck are they?”
“Roderick,” Alistair hissed, grabbing Cold’s shoulder. “We’ll deal with this later. Mickey is bleeding out.”
“I am?” Mickey mumbled. His lips were getting cold, and it was hard to keep his eyes open.
He wondered where Roger was, and he thought about his bright smile and his hot kisses.
Wow, he hated that guy so much.
Mickey couldn’t keep his eyes open another second. The moment he closed them, everything went black.
When he woke up, he was in bed, and there was a young woman with peroxide blonde hair in an EMT uniform checking the IV in his arm. There were two bags of fluids hanging from a coatrack next to the bedside.
“Who the fuck are you?” Mickey demanded weakly.
