Cadillac Payback: Rising Tide by AJ Elmore (grave mercy .TXT) 📗

bright side here is that he gives himself a heart attack before I see him again, there’ll be no one who can rat me out about scrounging around for details about Isaiah. That and I’ll be another badass gun richer.

“That’s it?” I ask, not exactly meaning for the edge in my voice to carry over the phone. Then again, knowing Rocks, he’s already too fucked up to notice.

“Yeah,” he barks. I can’t even imagine how loud he is in person.

I say, “Thanks. Give me two, maybe three days, I’ll hit you up.”

I hang up before he can say another word. Again, I’m sure he won’t notice if he keeps talking and I’m not there. Long run, it doesn’t really matter. I glance down at the screen before I put the phone to sleep, more habit than anything. The Magnolia. I’ve heard of it, but that’s about as far as it goes. It’s now that I realize Johnny didn’t actually give me the address.

My fingers tighten around the phone, so hard that a small voice somewhere in the back of my mind says I’m about to break it. I realize then that Maria is still staring at me. I can feel her attention, and a curiosity strong enough to break through her trauma. No way in hell I’m about to explain myself to her, beyond what she could hear from the other end of the line.

I meet her attention with a steady gaze, no guilt to be found. She holds the contact for a stretch, and I think the distraction may have actually been good for her. Then again, she might be wondering how I would dare put something else before her. This may be the first time.

I slip the phone back in my pocket. If it rings again, I won’t touch it. I’m up to my ears in bullshit. I don’t have the capacity for anything else.

“I have to report to Abuela. I can’t leave you here alone,” I say softly.

“I’m not leaving,” she answers, her brow setting hard.

A short sigh of aggravation leaks from me. Who the hell could I call to come and protect her? The only person I’d trust is the one who is supposed to be here, but who is lying under the knife in the hand of a surgeon. I can’t stay and ignore Abuela’s order to report.

“Maria, if those bullets were meant for you, then you’re not safe. You need someone with you. I have to go. Please, come with me.”

I try my damnedest to keep the calm in my voice, but it doesn’t work. She knows I’m getting pissed. Her eyes widen, and I’m reminded of the last time I said those last words to her. Come with me. That was the moment she chained me to this life. That was when she chose the road that led me here.

“I didn’t leave when it was you on death’s door,” she answers, her tone just as sharp as mine.

That’s it, the dagger that finds its mark. It slides into my ribs, and all the way to the most guarded of emotions. It hurts more than anything she’s said, maybe ever. It hurts enough that my breath snags in my chest, and I physically wince. She’s never told me that before, and I believe it without a second thought.

There’s a lot I don’t remember about my stay here. A lot I’ve been told about the tense hours when the specialists believed the head trauma and the broken bones and the damaged organs would be too much for my body to recover from. I know because of the records that my brain swelled enough they believed I would have permanent brain damage, if I came back from it at all.

Most of the time, I’m glad I can’t remember those details. But now I can’t keep myself from imagining waking up for the first time and seeing her there – maybe sleeping in a chair, or reading a magazine, sipping a coffee – anything.

The door opens, and her eyes flash from me to the sound and motion. I’m fifty-fifty annoyed at the interruption and relieved by it. It’s the tension break everyone in this room needed, whether it will be the news everyone wants or not.

A guy in scrubs, somewhere in his early thirties, stops just inside the door. The family across the room perks up, but he never looks their way. His eyes fall directly, immediately on Maria. Someone warned him to look for the insanely hot girl covered in blood.

She stands so fast I’m worried she’ll pass out. He notices me as he approaches, and there’s a slowing in his step. It’s not a big change of pace, but it’s enough for me to see it. I realize I’m glaring, and I’m also looking at him. Shit, I guess I’m being scary.

I let him approach before I stand. He tries to ignore me. I try to seem less confrontational, forcing my shoulders down some, and standing facing a little away from him. There was a time when I would have scrapped with a man in a hospital waiting room, but those days are gone.

He clears his throat, then says, “We have managed to stabilize him somewhat. His body was in complete shock, and we’ve pumped a lot of blood out of his stomach. Internal bleeding remains the most dangerous aspect because we haven’t been successful in stopping it. Honestly, if the bullet had been any bigger, he’d already be dead.”

Synapses fire. I’m still taking a breath to answer with when Maria cuts me off.

“What do you mean? How big is the bullet?” she asks.

The guy’s eyes widen – doctor, nurse, whatever he is. I’d bet Johnny Rocks’ new pistol that this motherfucker has never even shot a gun. He consults the file folder in his hand, then says, “Nine millimeter.”

“What the fuck?” Maria spits, her pitch sharper than any of my knives.

Dr. Nurse takes a step back. I thought I was intimidating him, and now