“Move,” I order, lifting my chin to send him the most withering glower I can manage.
“Bay…he’snothere.”
Of course, he wouldn’t be. Juice and Rod would have called an ambulance.
“Which hospital?” I force through some light-headedness fucking with my equilibrium. My fingertips lightly brush my temple, and I grapple with my balance because I’m one swift breeze away from falling over. “Can someone take me?”
“He’s at a secret facility.”
My gaze flicks up to Hot Rod’s hazel eyes again…and they hold zero hope.
That’s in your head.
“We couldn’t take him to the hospital,” Juice tacks on calmly. “Doctors would’ve asked too many questions, and we don’t need Muncy around.”
That all makes sense.
“Okay, who’s taking me, then?”
Both Juice and Hot Rod stare at me like I’m a fucking intruder whoplannedthe drive-by.
“Not all at once, boys. Hurry up.”
“No one.”
My focus snags on Juice, who looks equally like shit. The same blood smeared on his skin and clothing. It was a shitshow and a red one at that.
And as much as I’dloveto fucking study the shit, I latch on to the fact that these two motherfuckers are telling me I can’t go see my best friend.
“Boys, I’ve had at least two strokes on my way over here,” I manage through my teeth. “I’m really not in the mood for the dramatics.”
“We don’t know where De Leon is,” Rod explains evenly. “And I’m trying to keep him from finding Levi to finish the job.”
Right.
However, I’m still getting a tad irritated that everything the two of them are saying is making sense.
Furthermore, it only homes in on the idea that this is the reason why Hot Rod and Juice are Levi’s number one and two. These two dudes know what they’re doing, and theyarecarrying it out.
But not inmyfavor.
“Okay…but he’s fine?”
“He’s breathing.”
Not good enough.
“Well, when can I go?” I ask, clasping my hands together to keep from fidgeting. “He needs me.”
“He needs the doctors and nurses.”
I pry my attention off Hot Rod because he obviously sucks at this. “Juice, can you find a way to take me later?”
“Bay, I saidno,” Rod grinds out from my periphery. “This isn’t a fucking game.”
“Who's laughing?” I argue, still holding Juice’s stare. “I need to be with him. He needs to know I’m there. I can help. He can hear me. He’ll know. Levi always knows—” Rod steps closer to Juice to gain my attention, but I don’t give it.
I only watch Juice try to stand up to me and be sympathetic but reasonable at the same time.
