She holds a video in front of my face. ““Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner, folks. Do you recognize this guy? His name is Lou Gonzales and works for Nuglax. Jarkon says he’s the shooter.
“They must’ve given me some serious painkillers. Those names sound like a bad sci-fi movie.”
She pinches my chin. “Don’t you remember anything?”
“Mind blowing sex.” In truth, most of the fog has cleared, I’m just messing with her.
“Nothing else?” Her blush makes me wish we were back in bed.
“Nope.” I turn my head toward the bandaged shoulder. “How bad is it?”
“Through and through. Nicked an artery. You’re lucky to-”
“Don’ say it. And how long have I been here?”
“About an hour or so. When you didn’t return for your bougie razor, I went looking for you.” She doesn’t say it, but it’s clear as day. She saved my life. Again.
“Thanks, the shaving kit belonged to my grandfather.”
“Well, your stuff is undamaged which is a lot more than I can say about you.”
Our voices act as a beacon to a rookie cop who pulls back the curtain and puts his hand atop his gun holster. “I’m officer McLeod. Why would someone want to shoot you, Mister…?”
“Montclair. Dashiell Montclair.” I have to spell it out so he can write it down.
“And what do you do for a living?” His pen clicks repeatedly as he holds it over his pad of paper.
“I’m a security consultant.” Glancing over at Landy, I catch her eye roll.
The cop misses it and purses his lips at his phone screen. “Hmm. It says here you’re some kind of human treasure hunter.”
I shrug. “To-may-to, To-mah-to.”
“It also says you’re attempting to find Chandler’s killer and collect the reward. Why not take this as a warning and let the police do their job?”
“You boys have had twelve years, but I don’t blame you. How old were you at the time he went missing? Ten?”
The tops of his cheeks redden. “Don’t get in the way or I will arrest you for obstruction.”
His pathetic attempt to intimidate me makes me grin but I don’t give the kid a hard time. When he’s done asking lame questions, he warns me not to leave town, then Landy and I compare notes of our morning adventures.
Finished, she puts her mouth to my ear. “Jarkon says a judge is signing off on a warrant as we speak. They found your shooter.”
Sitting up, I pull out my IV, and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. “Where the hell are my clothes? We need to go.”
“No way.” Her jaw drops as I snatch her cellphone and type into the search engine.
‘How long does it take to recover from a simple gunshot wound to the shoulder’and show her the response. “See? It says stitch me up, give me antibiotics, and send me home.”
She doesn’t look convinced and neither does the ER doctor but in ten minutes, me and her are sitting in my SUV in front of a boarded-up brick building.
The neighborhood looks like it was looted in the sixties, burned down in the seventies, and has been deteriorating ever since.
Behind the wheel with her arms crossed, she glares. “What’re you going to do? Knock on the shooter’s door and politely ask why he tried to kill you?”
“Something like that.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
