“Where are you bleeding? There’s blood everywhere.”
“I think they got my eye.”
As I examine the area above his eye socket, the blood is flowing more thickly, and I find a deep gash above his left brow. I touch it with the cloth, ignoring his hiss of protest, and begin to clean it as best I can.
“I think this needs stitches,” I say firmly.
“No. No doctors. I’m not going to the ER. I’m fine.”
“Who the fuck did this to you, Scott?” I demand.
“Who do you think? Monroe’s thugs.”
I pull my hand away, leaning back in disbelief. “I thought you said he gave you until the end of the week.”
“Yeah, well, I guess he got tired of waiting. Fucking assholes jumped me and kicked me in the ribs.”
“Is anything broken?”
“How the fuck should I know?”
“Keep talking to me like that, and I’ll break the rest of them.”
Scott’s swollen lips part, and he winces as I continue rubbing at the dried blood on his cheek. My hands are trembling violently, and after another thirty seconds of charged silence, his hand comes up to grip mine, steadying it.
“I’m okay, Jax. I’m alright.”
“Why would he do this? He knows we’re going to pay him this week.”
“Yeah, but how much? I’m not sure he’ll settle for a gesture. It’s gonna need to be a lot.”
He lets go of my hand as I calculate the money I already have in my head. If I can get paid in cash by Mr. Asshole like I planned, I might be able to get over ten grand together by Sunday.
Will that be enough?
“I can help,” I say calmly. “I just need a few more days. How did you get the money back in the safe at the club?” I ask, returning to dealing with the wound above his eye.
“Got lucky on the horses.”
“Fuck, Scott,stopgambling. You know this is how it starts.”
“I just have to deal with this problem, and then no more bets, I swear.”
I don’t believe him. He probably doesn’t even believe himself. We’ve been here many times before.
I continue to clean his face as he sits up a little straighter.
“Do you think your ribs are broken?” I ask again, as he sucks in a breath.
“Just bruised.”
“You really won’t go to the hospital?”
“No. You know I hate doctors, and I’m alright.”
Between us, we manage to shuck off his coat and open his shirt. The bruising doesn’t look too bad right now, but I know it’ll get worse before it gets better.
Once his face is cleaned up, it’s mainly his lip that’s the problem, and there’s a deep purple bruise next to his eyelid that is going to be an impressive black eye in the morning.
