Spencer grimaces when I remove the blade, but looks relieved. Well, until I stab him higher and to the left.
“There’s the artery,” I say, pulling out the blade and stepping back as he bleeds wildly now. “You’re welcome.”
Spencer says something to me, but I don’t listen. Walking to Shay, I kneel down and run my thumb over her bloody lip.
“Tell me you’re okay.”
“I’m okay.”
“Now, tell me the truth.”
“I’m banged up and he cut my arm. Bebe’s hurt too.”
“Want to wait for an ambulance or can you hold on while we take you to the hospital?”
“I want to go with you,” she says immediately then looks at Bebe.
“I’m not looking to talk to cops,” Bebe whispers. “I’ll do whatever gets me to my baby faster.”
Creepy Spencer is quiet now. I don’t know if he’s dead, but no one’s saving him with the amount of blood pouring out of his leg.
Picking up Shay, I’m taken by how small she feels in my arms.
“I kicked his ass,” she says, leaning her head against my chest.
Her words are full of bravado, yet her voice sounds young and scared.
“I should have killed him after he messed with you.”
“Yeah, you should have.”
Teasing me, Shay returns to her feet and climbs on behind me on the bike.
“Don’t let go,” I say softly.
Pax helps Bebe to his Harley. Sirens get louder in the night as the crowd of people creeps closer to Spencer’s body. Once Bebe is holding onto Pax, we take off to the hospital, passing ambulances and cops on the way.
We pull the Harleys into the unloading zone next to the emergency room. A few people want to tell us we can’t park there, but they keep their mouths shut. While I can’t be sure about my face, I know Pax looks pissed.
The woman in the front wants us to fill out paperwork and wait like everyone else. I look around and find the waiting room nearly empty. The only people are drunks and a homeless lady looking for a place to sleep.
“Tell the doctor on call that Slugger is here.”
The woman knows the name and hurries to get the doctor. Shay stands next to me, staring at where the woman disappeared.
“You have pull,” she whispers, but her face is paler than usual.
“Did he cut you anywhere besides your arm?”
“I don’t know,” she mumbles. “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”
Cupping her face, I study her eyes. “You’re scared and coming down from the adrenaline high. Breathe slowly and the puke feeling will pass.”
Trusting me, Shay melts against my body. Soon, a nurse appears and waves us back. I take Shay’s hand and guide her into the emergency room. Pax and I have spent a few evenings in the place, getting stitched up after fights. Knowing the drill, I lift Shay onto the gurney and kiss her softly. As I pull my lips away, she grabs my shirt with her bloody hands.
“Thank you for killing him,” she whispers, “I didn’t know how.”
“I’ll show you one day,” I promise, kissing her again.
Her lower lips trembling, Shay fights not to cry. She wants to be brave, but this violence isn’t her life.
“My groceries are on the ground,” she says, glancing at Bebe on another gurney.
“I’ll deal with it.”
Pax stands next to me and looks at Shay. “If you’ve got this shit handled, I’ll go back to the store and talk to the cops. Make sure they don’t hassle the girls until they’re ready to talk. Bebe gave me her grocery receipt. If Shay has hers, I can get someone to round up the crap that got fucked in the fight. I’ll drop it off at Darby’s place.”
Shay digs into her pocket and finds the receipt. When Pax takes it from her, she smiles faintly.
“I hope my brothers grow up to be like you. Tough on the outside and a gentle teddy bear on the inside.”
Pax smiles. “I’m going to ignore the teddy bear shit since you’ve had a tough day.”
“Okay, Yogi.”
Rolling his eyes, Pax leaves the emergency room. I glance again at Bebe sitting alone on the gurney. She looks too young to have a kid. When I think of her living in that house with the prostitutes and Paro hanging around, I want to kill the shithead again.
Soon, the doctors check out the girls, talking about keeping them overnight for observation. I say the same thing I’d say if Pax was in their position.
“Fix them up, so I can take them home.”
Bebe looks the most relieved about leaving. Once she gets staples for a gash in her head, she’s ready to go. Shay needs stitches for the cut on her arm. I hurry along the doctors until I can finally walk Shay and Bebe outside.
“I’m sorry,” Shay tells Bebe.
“We beat up a guy with cans of raviolis. Not bad for the Queens Duh and Huh.”