The black was creeping in again.
“Sss…” was all I could get out.
“Rosalie,” he bit out, curt, alert,alarmed.
“Hurt,” I whispered.
And then, again, I blacked out.
I’d come to and gone out, managed to drag myself afew feet toward the door, hearing the burner ring, then stop, ring again, stop,drifting in and out before I heard him.
“Jesus, fuck,Jesus, fuck.”
Snapper.
“Ambulance or call a brother?”
Roscoe.
“Rosie, honey, you with us?”
Snap, close to me, pulling my hair out of my face gently.
“Fuck,” growled from Roscoe.“Those motherfuckers spit onher.”
“Rosie, babe, darlin’, you with us?”
Snap, tighter, letting the anger rise through the concern.
My eyelids fluttered.
“Good, honey, good, stay with us,” Snapper ordered.
“Am-am…bu—” I tried.
“Okay, baby, okay, good,” Snap cut me off, not making meexpend more effort.Then to Roscoe, “Call an ambulance, man.”
I felt hands on me, careful but not hesitant, swift andsearching.Moans coasted out, little twitches when he’d hit a bad spot thatsent new aches, stings, or fire through me.
“Gotta check, honey,” Snap murmured apologetically whileRoscoe talked on the phone somewhere else.“Stay awake, Rosie.Stay with me,yeah?”
I said nothing until I moaned again when I felt him gentlylift my head then rest it on something that was a lot softer than cement.
It smelled of leather.
His Club cut.
I was lying on Chaos.
I swallowed.
It hurt.
Thankfully, Snapper quit his body injury survey and startedstroking my hair.
That hurt too.
Roscoe came back.“Called emergency.Called Tack.Where weat with Rosalie?”
