I was already moving. I staggered toward the still-running sedan.
I had to get back to Jamie.
I wrenched the door open and slid inside. The wheel trembled in my grip. I hit the gas. My vision blurred as I drove, head swimming.
I barely made it through my front door.
My knees hit the cold floor. I couldn't breathe.
"Jamie!" I called her name.
Jamie came barreling down the steps. She froze when she saw me. "Jesus Christ—"
"Go," I rasped. "Money's behind the washer. Take it and leave. Virginia knows you're alive."
She didn't move.
"What the fuck are you standing there for? Go while you got time!" I yelled. Then the world shifted as I fell forward onto my hands.
"Fuck," she hissed. Her footsteps rushed toward me.
She dropped to her knees, pressing her hands into my side. White-hot pain flared. I cried out through gritted teeth.
"You're bleeding out."
I pushed her off. "Jamie—go."
"Where's your phone? Or the backup. I know you have one."
Silence.
She dug her fingers into the wound. My vision blackened at the edges.
"Where's the fucking phone, Vicente?" She said my name like my mother did when I was in trouble. I couldn't handle any more pain. I told her.
"Kitchen," I gasped. "Under the forks. False bottom."
She let go. Footsteps pounded away.
The room spun.
Then nothing.
Jamie's voice dragged me back.
"He's lost a lot of blood. Come fast."
I don't know how much time passed, but when I blinked open my eyes again, they landed on Dr. Elan. Expensive. Untrustworthy. He did house calls for people who couldn't go to the ER. Lost his license over too many malpractice suits.
I tried to speak and couldn't. I didn't want him working on me.
A needle pricked my neck.
Darkness again.
The next time, a gunshot woke me.
I opened my eyes in time to watch Elan crumple to the ground. Smoke curled from the pistol in Jamie's grip.
