“Ethan,” a voice says loudly. I bat away the hand holding the light that’s shining in my eyes.
“Ethan,” a different voice says. This one I recognize.
“Cage,” I grit out.
“Let the doctor take care of you,” he demands.
So, I do.
The light shines in my eyes again and the doctor announces, “Concussion.”
“I coulda told you that,” I mutter, my jaw hurting when I try to speak. “Jaw.”
“God damn it,” Damian yells. “Security was tight, but the one who was watching the bus door decided to walk off and take a piss at the perfect time.”
Cage clears his throat. “I hope he’s been dealt with.”
“He has,” Damian relays, his voice sharp with anger.
“Was it just him, or more?” Cage asks.
“Four.”
“How the…” Cage stops. “We’ll figure that out later. Right now, let’s focus on getting Ethan patched up.”
“He’s gonna need more than patches,” Kennedy tells Cage. “Concussion. Likely broken or cracked jaw. That cheekbone looks to have been hit pretty damn hard. Bet that’s fucked up real good. Fingers, that right arm, ribs. Likely he’s going to need surgery.”
“Is there anything you aren’t knowledgeable in?” Jesse asks.
“No,” Kennedy answers matter-of-factly.
Kennedy’s a genius. He could have been so much more than a rockstar, but he loves the music. It soothes him, just as it does all of us.
“Looks like you’re correct,” the doctor announces when the x-rays come back. “He’s going to need surgery for some internal bleeding. Call the OR and tell them we’re on our way.”
“Don’t miss me too much,” I manage between closed teeth. These pain meds are awesome.
Just as they’re wheeling me out, Cage’s phone rings.
28
CAGE
We’re at Gio’s house, and I’m livid. It takes a lot to get me majorly pissed off, but I’m there.
I look around the room at everyone who was to be security and those in charge of security.
“Someone explain to me how the hell this happened!” I yell. “How did both Ethan and Linc get attacked on the same night, sustaining nearly identical injuries?” I pace around the room. “Do you think that’s coincidence?” I slam a hand on the table everyone’s gathered around. “It’s. Fucking. Not. So, who dropped the ball here? Was it me? Should I start doing all this shit with Damian and Ernesto to make sure it gets done right?”
A mumbled “no” is heard collectively.
“Then what the fuck is the problem?” Gio asks, his tone hard but tempered. “How could this happen? Two different people, two different cities, different sides of the country?”
No one says a word.
“Damian, you and Ernesto investigate and deal with those who need it,” Gio orders. When the head of La Famiglia steps in, you know it’s a bad situation.
“How bad is it?” Gio asks when everyone files out of the room.
