She nods. “I know.” She points at me. “You’re bleeding pretty bad. You need stitches.”
I look down and realize she’s right—my shirt is sliced open across the chest, a good six or eight inches, with another short but deep cut on my bicep. “Oh, shit. Fucker got me good.” I peel my shirt off and examine the cuts, peeling the edges open to see how deep they are—it’s not good. “Yeah, that’s some stitches.”
Rev comes up beside me. “You need to get that seen to.”
I move away, for the hidden doorway. “Brie, take some time. Got me?”
She nods. “Got you. I’m good, though, promise.”
I swipe my card against the reader and shove through. Rev is there with me, doing what I did—pulling at the edges of the cuts gingerly, assessing with a practiced eye. “Deep. You need a doctor, Chance, and I don’t mean Doc Adnan.”
“I’m not leaving, Rev.”
He holds my eyes. “You fuckin’ are. This shit’s into the muscle.”
“What’s wrong with Adnan?” I demand.
“Nothing. He’s a good doc for the little shit you get in a cage fight. That shit there, it’sdeep.”
I lean back against the wall beside the door, one foot up on a step. “It fuckin’ hurts like a bitch all of a sudden.”
“Thus, you need to go to the ER.” He presses my shirt against my chest. “You’re bleeding a lot, brother. You know I’m every bit as much of a hard-ass motherfucker as you, and I’mtellin’ you,goto the ER.”
“Club’s still open.”
He laughs. “We got it, man. We can cover you for a couple hours.” He grins at me. “Have your new friend Annika go with you. Better yet, have her drive you.”
I shove past him. “Shut the fuck up. I’m not letting her drive.”
“When was the last time you operated a motor vehicle, man? Even in the Corps, you never drove. Shit, I’m not sure you evencandrive.”
I bark a laugh. “Fuck you. I can drive.”
We’re on the way back to the main level service corridor. There are only two ways into our quarters under the building: from the back corner employee stairs, or the side entrance.
Rev halts with me at the door to the stairs. “You’re going to the ER?”
“Yes, Mommy, I’m going.” I shove him playfully, and he rocks back a few steps.
“Don’t fuck around driving with blood loss.”
“I’m barely bleeding,” I argue.
He cocks an eyebrow at me, and I look down—my shirt is soaked, my belly reddening, the waistband of my pants and underwear going sodden. “Quit being a stubborn little bitch, Chance.” He shoves me at the stairs. “Come on.”
As we’re on the way down, I hear Inez in my ear. “Sit-rep.”
“Threat is neutralized. Toro is escorting him off premises,” I answer. “Brie is okay. A little shaken but refusing to leave.”
Rev chimes in. “Chance is cut pretty badly. He needs medical attention off-site.”
“Chance, see to yourself. That’s an order.”
I shoot Rev a dirty look. “Fuckin’ snitch.”
He just laughs. “You’re too damn stubborn for your own good. Like when you stepped on a nail and did a twenty-mile ruck with your boot full of blood.”
“What was I supposed to do, asshole? We were in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere. I was gonna, what? Cry about it? Beg X-O for a little break and a Band-Aid?”
