Brantley frowned. “Why the fuck didn’t you call me?” he demanded.
“We didn’t know,” RT said defensively. “I called as soon as I got word.”
That made him feel a little better. “He’s gonna be okay though?”
“Sounds like it,” RT said, his voice steady. “We got a brief update a little while ago. They said they were able to retrieve the bullet and repair the artery it nicked. No doubt he was lucky.”
Bullet. Artery. Lucky?Jesus Christ.
“What the fuck happened?”
“All we have are bystander reports, but it sounds like Reese was havin’ dinner and he confronted two armed men. There was a fight—two on one—that ended in one of the other men shootin’ Reese, then they took off before police arrived.”
“Theyshothim?”
RT nodded and Brantley saw there was something he was holding back.
“Tell me, goddammit.”
RT swallowed, looked away, looked back. “We don’t know who he was with, but there was mention of a woman he was havin’ dinner with. Sounds like Reese instructed her to run before he confronted the guys.”
Brantley let that information bounce off him. He could not worry about the fact Reese was rekindling things with his ex. Right now the only thing that mattered was that Reese was all right.
“Reese was on the ground when the guy shot him,” RT explained. “They said the bullet nicked an artery but the trajectory of the bullet was a blessing.”
Not a fucking thing about this felt like a blessing.
“He’s gonna be all right?” he asked again.
“The prognosis is good, yes.”
Brantley’s knees weakened and he leaned on the nearest wall to keep himself upright.
“He’s strong. He’ll pull through this.”
Brantley nodded. The words were meant as encouragement, but Brantley didn’t want platitudes. He wanted to see with his own two eyes that Reese was all right. At that point, he could leave the man in his family’s capable hands and get out of his hair.
Two hours later, a nurse came out to inform them Reese was out of surgery and that they could go back to see him, but only two at a time.
Brantley hung back with RT and Hugh while Cindy and Z went in first. He was effectively wearing the tile flooring thin when Reese’s brother returned a short time later, his face grim.
Brantley nearly plowed over Z in an attempt to get an update.
“He’s still out of it,” Z said softly. “But the doc says he’ll be fine. They’re keepin’ him in ICU for tonight and they’ll assess his condition in the mornin’, see if they want to move him to a regular floor.”
Brantley took a deep breath in, let it out slowly.
“Go on back,” Z instructed. “My mom’s still in there, but you should be there, too.”
Brantley didn’t argue, stepping around him.
Z gripped his arm, pulled him up short. “Prepare yourself. He doesn’t look good.”
That gaping hole in the pit of his stomach widened even as he nodded.
Shoring his nerve, Brantley made his way into the brightly lit wing of the hospital. He followed the signs until he came to Reese’s room. There was a male nurse standing at a computer just outside the solid glass wall. From where the man was positioned, he could see in, keeping a close eye on his patient.
On the other side of the glass, Brantley could make out Reese’s body in the bed, all the machines and wires, but Cindy was blocking his view of Reese’s face.
