I shoved him against the blood spattered wall with more force than I intended. “For one minute, leave Sarah out of all of this. Think back to that eleven-year-old kid you stitched up one day and then weeks later tried to put back together when he fell apart.” Breakneck blinked in acknowledgment. “You cannot and will not discredit her pain. She has every fucking right to want to take her life. That’s not our place to judge. Our part is to help herto see there’s a reason to go on no matter how hard it seems right now. You feel me?”
“Yeah, I feel you,” he replied.
After releasing him, I took a step back. “Glad to hear it.”
His gaze dipped down to my leg. “Are you all right?”
“Just a little tender that’s all.”
“Maybe I should have a look at it.”
“Take care of Annabel first.”
“Chivalrous to a fucking fault,” he muttered before turning and leaving me.
***
I didn’t want to alert the medical staff to what had transpired with Annabel, so I ducked out of the bathroom and then stole a bucket and mop out of the supply closet. I also grabbed a pair of scrubs so I would have something to change into once I finished cleaning. After a quick sweep of the floor and walls, I returned the supplies, then I slipped back into the bathroom and took a long, scalding shower.
My calf still hurt like a motherfucker, but at least the stitches hadn’t popped and there was no bleeding. I slipped on the scrubs and took one last inspection of the bathroom before going outside.
Breakneck had finished up with Annabel’s stitches. Annabel’s and Bishop’s attention was drawn to the television while Breakneck stared at his phone. At the sight of me, Annabel jerked her gaze to mine.
“Shower is all yours now.”
She nodded and then turned to Breakneck. “It’s okay if I get the stitches wet?”
“The gauze should protect them. Just don’t stay in long. And if you start to feel lightheaded, call out for one of us.”
“Okay,” she replied. After taking the spare hospital gown from the side of the bed, she then slipped inside the bathroom.
Bishop glanced between me and Breakneck. “You think it’s safe for her to be alone in there?”
“I did a sweep of the bathroom. There’s nothing in there she could use, even if she was so inclined.”
“You don’t think she’ll be a repeat offender?” Bishop asked.
Before I could reply, Breakneck said, “No. I think she’s going to be all right.” When I shot a questioning look at him, he gave a brief jerk of his head. “For a first timer, she did a number on her wrists, but the wounds weren’t deep enough and after talking with her, I don’t thinks she needs put on suicide watch or anything like that.”
Bishop snorted. “With us on round the clock duty, we’re watching her enough as it is. She doesn’t need anything else.”
“I’m not taking any fucking chances on Mendoza being alive or the Diablos hunting her down. Those cocksuckers are psychotic,” I argued.
Breakneck rose out of his chair. “She’ll be discharged tomorrow. We need to start planning how to get her back to the states.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I said, “For starters, we’re going to be riding out of here. No way can we be flying. Annabel doesn’t have any ID, and whatever paperwork the Raiders concoct to get her over the border, it won’t hold up with TSA. Besides, we don’t need any record that we were even here.”
Breakneck shook his head. “There’s no way with her injuries that Annabel can ride on a motorcycle. She needs four to six weeks recuperation from the hysterectomy at least.”
“Okay. So I’ll rent a car and drive her,” I replied.
“Then how does your bike get home?” Bishop questioned. As I paused to consider that issue, Bishop said, “Maybe Breakneck should drive her home.”
“No way,” I answered adamantly.
Bishop looked at me in surprise. “You got a better suggestion?”
“Rev’s right,” Breakneck said.
