“Den, check for the brother,” I mutter out, looking to where I shot him. He’s not there, but that doesn’t mean he’s dead. “Shoulder wound.” She keeps looking at me as I try to get up off Rusty, and then slips in behind me, taking Rusty’s place and putting her own hand on my thigh to keep me in place. “And give Gabby your goddamn shirt.” It’s dropped by her side within seconds, and I feel her shrug into it.
“You gonna speak at all?” I ask, letting myself fall against her. It’s kinda nice after all this shit. And I can’t get my fucking breath back for some reason. Tired.
“I’m not sure what to say.” Her lips tremble as she pushes the words out.
I nod at that. Me either.
I stare at Quinn as he goes about checking Jon and Frankie’s bodies, hoping they might still be alive I assume, and place my hand over hers. She links our fingers, and I look down at them together, blood mingling along with the move. She’s covered with it, her arms striped with her own dried war, one she must have fought before I got here to stop it.
“You hurt?” I ask, trying to reach back for her with my other hand and cringing at the thought of her telling me the truth. I know this shit, know what happens in places like this to pretty hostages. I could have got here earlier, done all this quicker. But I hoped for coercion rather than all this death. Hoped that was the best bet to keep us alive and try to stave off war. Should have damn well stormed in like Quinn said, all fucking guns blazing. It’s the way it’s ended up regardless.
Stupid fucking Yakuza bitch.
Such is this screwed up life we all lead.
She pushes my hand back to my side and nudges herself in closer to me, holding tight and resting her chin on my head.
“No. Not really. That’s done now.”
It’ll never be done, but maybe she can weather it a little better than my mother has. Time will tell. And if she can’t, I’ll spend my fucking life exacting revenge on Yakuza for what they’ve done.
Cane safety be damned.
Her fingers run through my hair as Quinn walks back. She strokes with a repose of calm, some part of her able to see through this butchery and concentrate on the here and now. I can’t. All I can see is death and anger, all of it coming from my hand. I look at him as he walks back, watch his lack of compassion bleed into the air around him. How does he do that? It means nothing to him, does it?
Cold bastard.
“Come on, you. We gotta get you out of here,” he says, reaching down to me.
I’m shrugged up to his side, arm lifted around his shoulder until Rusty replaces Gabby again and heaves me onto him, too. It’s fucking painful. Every step is like a damn knife digging into me, but then that’s what comes of protecting those you love, and I growl the pain away as we walk through the bloodbath of prone bodies. Fuck, it hurts, though, and I can’t put weight on it, can’t feel that side of me at all now I think about it. My body drops suddenly, good leg giving way beneath me as I fall into Quinn and Rusty.
“You alright?” Quinn asks, hoisting me up further onto him. I shake my head, trying to see clearly and keep moving with them, but I can barely feel my legs anymore, so he keeps dragging me along the corridor.
Den walks in from the side as we reach the doorway, the brother in the same position as I am on his side. Gabby doesn’t acknowledge him at all, just opens the doors for us and hustles to the car as Quinn throws her the keys. I frown at that, wondering why she doesn’t give a damn, but then, like she said, not much of a family. And the dick caused all of this in a roundabout way. Greedy, fucking stupid. Risking his family for monetary gain.
I watch her run over the dirt, bare skin and nothing but Den’s shirt to cover her body. The sight disgusts me, causes more vengeance to wreak havoc on my insides. She’s bruised, battered, that beautiful hair of hers matted together, parts of it torn from her scalp. Real men wouldn’t involve a younger sister in anything like this, no matter how good a thief she is. They would have kept her clear of danger, protected her.
Perhaps I should have let that Yakuza bitch kill him.
I stiffen at the thought of protecting her, trying to carry my own weight again so I can get to her, help her, but everything’s so fucking numb, like it won’t work anymore.
Quinn heaves me into the car, lying me across the backseat, and then slams the door and jumps in the passenger side. Gabby’s already spinning the wheel by the time he closes his own door. I shake my head again, trying to focus and sit up a little, but I’m so heavy. And I can’t see properly, my vision murky.
“You drive a manual?” he asks her. There’s no reply, only a clunk as I watch him lean over to her. “There, floor it.”
“Where?” she asks.
He knocks something into the GPS, and then looks back at me, a smirk settling on his face, as the car careers off at speed. “A hundred and twenty-five million, huh?”
I smile a little and try to keep myself steady as the car powers on, bumps and jars sending me rolling about.
“What?” she says, her head turning back to look over her shoulder. Again, I try to focus on her, see her clearly, but she’s all hazy, too, just like Quinn.
“They’ll want that back,” he continues.
They can go screw themselves.
I slump back, giving in to whatever feeling I’m having, and close my eyes to listen to the pair of them rather than trying to focus any longer. Their tones mingle, making me smile again at the sound of them. One trusted, old, dependable in his own way—no matter how fucked up that might be. The other new and fresh, a future laid out for me should we choose that in the end. Not that I’ll ever be sure with her, but after all this I can hope.
