Page 45 of Broken Warrior
“You motherfucker,” Jackal growls after the first ring. “I have been trying—“
“It’s Tate,” I huff out. “We need help.”
I can hear rustling and stomping, doors opening and closing. “What’s going on?”
“He’s... Fin is...” I barely stifle a sob. “He overdosed, Jackal. We need help now.”
“Fuck!” he shouts. “What’d he OD on, Tate? Do you know, can you tell?”
Tears stream down my face and roll onto Fin’s as I give him two more breaths and go back to compressions. “Heroin. I’m almost positive. His arm is tied off, there’s a syringe and spoon. His eyes are bloodshot, pupils tiny. His lips are blue, Jackal. Fin is—“
“I’m coming, sweetheart. Hang in there. You know CPR?”
“I’m already doing it.”
“Good. Keep that up as long as you can. I’m gonna call Doc and get him en route. You call anyone else?”
“No.” Two more breaths. “He wouldn’t want me to.”
Jackal mutters something about a stubborn jackass before he asks, “Is he breathing on his own at all?”
“Yes but it’s raspy, deep snores. It’s an overdose, Jackal. I’ve seen it before.”
“Fuck. Fuck!” I hear his motorcycle. “Nadine awake?”
Two more breaths. “No. The nurse won’t be here until eleven.”
“Fuck. Dammit. Ok, I’m gonna have Summer and Jolie follow me. They can handle her when she gets up and she will get up, especially once we get there.”
“Does Doc have Narcan? I’m gonna try to get him in the shower. He’s breathing but if I can shock his system it might kickstart him.”
“Doc doesn’t but I know someone who does. If you can get him in the shower, great, if not, don’t sweat it. Just keep doing what you can and don’t worry. I’m already on my way, sweetheart. Everything is going to be fine. Fin is going to be fine.”
I’m not sure if he’s saying that to reassure me or himself, but either way I have a hard time believing it.
“Keep his phone on you, Tate, ok? If he stops breathing you call EMS. The front door unlocked?”
“Yes.” One more cycle of CPR then I decide to get him in the shower. “Hurry, Jackal. Please.”
“I am, sweetheart. We’ll be there in a flash.”
I hang up and stuff his phone into my bra, get to my feet, then roll Fin so I can open the door.
Why was he shooting up in his closet?
Why was he shooting up at all?
Why didn’t he just call me?
Why... justwhy?
Once I have the closet door open, I reach down and grab his ankles. Fin weighs at least double what I do but I’m banking on adrenaline, fear, and unconditional love to help me move him.
And thank god, I somehow do.
It feels like it takes years, but I manage to drag him all the way to the bathroom without stopping once. I prop him against the side of the tub then step in, crank the water to ice cold and shove Nadine’s shower chair out of the way. The spray pelts my skin in icy shards, beats down on me in a stream of hail, but I just loop my arms under Fin’s armpits, widen my stance and hoist him over the edge, right on top of me.
We go down with a smack, my head hitting the tile wall behind me, my body almost crushed from his weight, but the second Fin’s bare chest is under the stream of freezing water, he gasps, harsh and loud.
