I let them have that moment—it’s not often that Rory gets to act like this—and I nod for Mac and Blake to follow me outside.
“Tell me everything,” I demand, and they stand straight at my tone.
“I was reading him that comic book he likes,” Mac tells me. “A new one came out yesterday, so I went and got it for him.”
I don’t begrudge him the emotion in his voice. Duffy’s everyone’s favorite person. He’s a little brother to all of us, but his connection to Mac is something else.
“He’s been getting him all the new ones that come out and reading them to him,” Blake adds when Mac has to pause to collect himself, and I appreciate the input. Mac’s been a mess over Duffy, and I asked Blake to stick to his side instead of mine these weeks so he’d have someone making sure he’s not going crazy—okay, crazier.
“Doc said that he’d probably be able to hear,” Mac grumbles. “And that it’d be good for him.”
“I get it, but what happened?” I’ve been here every day. Not for long because of how much shit I have on my plate, but I’ve been here, hoping that he’ll finally wake up so I can rip him a new one for jumping out a third-floor fucking window.
There was a dead guy in the dumpster where he landed, but we still don’t know what the fuck actually happened inside that apartment.
We only found him quickly ’cause Mac was parked in that damn alley, twenty feet away, waiting for Duffy to finish one of his “errands,” and he saw the two bodies fucking fly out.
“His hand moved,” Mac continues. “I saw his hand move, and then I started asking him to wake up, to say something, anything, or even open his eyes.”
“And he did?”
“No,” Mac snorts. “He told me to fuck off, that he was tired.”
I can’t help but smirk at that. I’ve heard Duffy tell whoever wakes him up to fuck off about a billion times in the thirty years I’ve known him.
“What?” The shout comes from inside the room, and the panic in Duffy’s voice is enough to have the three of us rushing inside. “Three weeks?” His bright green eyes are wild and scared, and that right there, that’s a look I never wanted to see again.
I have to physically shake off the memory of how I found him in that basement.
“What’s going on?” I bark out.
“I told him it’s been three weeks,” Rory tells me without looking away from Duffy’s pale face. His hair flops around when he turns to look from one person to the next uncomfortably fast.
“You hadn’t told him?” I snap at Mac.
“I didn’t know if I should,” he defends himself and rushes to Duffy’s side. “But you’re gonna be fine. Doc said so alittle while ago, remember? He came by to see you and said you needed to stay here until your scans are completely clear and that stupid rock you call a brain is all healed up.”
“Yeah, I remember,” Duffy grumbles. “I don’t have fucking amnesia, but shit, I—” He looks right at me, then away, then back, then he winces. “I need a favor.”
A nurse comes in right then and asks to speak to Blake. He leaves and I turn my attention back to Duffy.
“What favor?” I do my best not to snap at him, but dammit, if he needs me to settle one more debt, I’m gonna—nothing. I’ll fucking pay because I always do.
“So, you know how you told me to stop gambling?”
I bite back the groan that wants to come out. I fucking knew it.
“No, no,” he shouts and sits up hurriedly. The wince, well, that he earned, but he interpreted the look I tried to hide correctly. “I stopped, for real, because I found this dude, and after I did some investigating?—”
“Stalking,” Mac corrects.
“Whatever.” Duffy doesn’t even pause for a breath. “He’s good, boss, like the best lookout ever and so efficient. So I kinda hired him. And he’s got a little girl to take care of, so I got him to watch our backs.”
“Who is he and why should I care?” I ask, running out of patience.
“His name is Colby, and he’s too nosy for his own good, even though he tries to hide it. I know he’s been trying to figure out who I am ever since I first hired him. Please, just make sure he’s okay.” I know that can’t be all of it, so I keep staring into Duffy’s green eyes, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “And yeah, okay,” he relents and tilts his head from side to side. “Maybe leave a couple of grand in his mailbox or whatever.”
I let the silence linger, then nod once. “I can do that.” Because it’s not fucking gambling at one of our casinos. And sometime soon, I’m gonna get the full story of this Colby out of Duffy. “But you need to relax and rest. I don’t give a shit how twitchy you get in that bed, Duffy, you’re not stepping a foot out of this place until Doc says you’re back to your crazy self, am I clear?”
