“Well, doyoueven know?”
I push out my lips and then stick my tongue out at him. “I got shot.”
“Obviously,” Danny grunts from his post at the door. He won’t come closer, not when he doesn’t know if an enemy will attack or not. A man of few words, but he’s protective to the core.
“Seven times, to be exact,” General supplies.
“Seven?” I shout in disbelief, along with both Tommy and Vinny. Vinny looks pissed, while Tommy looks jealous. We always were the competitive type. Might be a twin thing. Or just a Leone thing.
“Two in the upper right thigh, one in the gluteus, two in the stomach, one in the left shoulder, and one at the left ear. That’s more of a nick than anything else, but we still classify it as being shot,” General reads off a chart he pulled from the end of my bed.
“Ha, you got shot in the ass,” Tommy says with way too much delight.
I glare, but it does nothing.
Generalkeeps talking, ignoring the jokester of my family. “The ones in your lower half were easy to pull out. The shoulder went through and through. The two in the stomach did some damage on the inside that took us a while to fix. That’s why we’ve kept you pretty sedated the last couple of days to make sure we stopped the internal bleeding. You’ve ruptured your stitches twice, moving around so much in your sleep, so we doubled down on the dosage to keep it from happening a third time.”
“I’ve been here forhowlong?” I knew I was out of it, but I figured for a few hours. Forty-eight at the most. But the way he talks about, I know he means more.
“Six days, to be exact.”
“Six,” I repeat in a whisper. I’ve never missed time before. Not even after a night of drinking did I wake up without the memory of what happened. But six fucking days of no memory? That seems absurd to me.
“You mean eight.” I look at Vinny, confused, but he’s staring at General. “She was shot eight times.”
General looks up from the chart with a head tilt, glancing from my brother to me. I see when the light bulb goes off in his head, his eyes widening before he nods. “That one on her arm was from before, not what brought her in.”
“Before? How many more does she have?” Bobby asks.
General looks back at the chart, flipping a few pages. “Three more that we can confirm, just based on the scars and the damage. I had my team look her over and fix what we could. Most of the scars are too old for us to fix, but I believe we counted seven stab wounds. We also reset the nasal fracture she sustained when she came in.”
“Is she free to move?” Vinny’s words have me stiffening, as I can feel the anger radiating off him from his voice alone.
“I want to keep her here another day or two now that she’s awake, but after that, she’s good to go for at-home care. She’ll need some physical therapy on both her leg and shoulder, but I don’t see why she can’t do that from anywhere.”
“No, she can’t,” Ruby says, and everyone looks at her.
I don’t miss the once-over Tommy gives her. Probably why he’s the first to speak.
“And why’s that, beautiful?”
Such the charmer.
“Because Bass promised he would bring her Ivan’s head. And he’s not back yet.”
I shake my head, completely confused by what she’s saying. “Bring me what? Where is he? Why do I need anyone’s head? Yeah, I want Ivan dead, but what the hell am I to do with a head?”
“They make good wall art,” Danny supplies. If it was anyone else, I would laugh it off. But he’s likely serious as hell.
“Bass promised you. He sat in this chair and promised you that he would take care of it so you and Ollie wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore,” Ruby continues.
“When did he say that?”
“Before he left.”
“Left to go where?” Bobby asks.
“To Russia,” Casper says, and the damn beeping starts up again.
