She looks over her shoulder at me. “Who, Harry?” I nod. “His whole life. He built this place.”
I can’t conceal my shock. “What?”
“That’s why I needed his signature. He’s the oldest living elder.”
“What, is he your uncle or something?”
Slinging a bag over her shoulder, she shakes her head. Grabbing my whiskey, she finishes it off before shooting me a wink. “He’s my grandfather.” This is one seriously fucked-up family.
True to Diem’s word, Rookie is waiting in the car outside. The first thing I do when I slide in the front seat next to him is hit him right in the jaw. “That’s for fucking up. And I’m pulling your patch for lying to me. Good luck Prospecting for the next year.”
He moves his jaw with his hand, trying to line it back up. “Do what you want. I heard a plan B and went with it. If I have to Prospect another five years, it’ll be worth it. At least you’re still alive.”
“Don’t throw that guilt trip shit on me. You gave me your word. That’s worth more than fucking plan B.”
Diem’s hand comes to rest on my shoulder from the backseat as Rookie pulls out. “It’s not his fault,” she says, but her words fade out as she switches on the light and looks at her hand. “Ohmigod! You’ve been shot!” she screams in my ear.
Rookie glances over. Looking at my face, he doesn’t like what he sees. “Shit,” he says under his breath, pressing harder on the accelerator.
Suddenly I feel weak. Removing my hoodie, I see that the sleeve is soaked in blood. “It’s just a shoulder wound,” I say, then clear my throat in an attempt to speak louder. “It’s nothing.”
“Put pressure on it. He’s lost a lot of blood,” Rookie instructs Diem.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been shot?” she asks, and the only pain I feel is at the sound of her voice that’s full of worry.
“I’m fine, pretty girl.”
“Don’t you die on me, you bastard,” she chokes out.
“I can’t. If I did, you wouldn’t be able to kill me like you promised.” Leaning my head against the back of the seat, I smirk at her.
She smiles through her tears. “How can you hate someone that you love so much?”
I start to answer her, but everything goes black.
* * *
I wake up in my bed. Rookie is asleep in a chair across from me. Diem is curled into my side and Carrie is lying next to her. There is a sling on my arm and gauze covering my shoulder. The only thing I’m wearing is my boxers, and for the life of me I can’t remember how I got here.
Then it starts coming back. I look over at Diem, who sleeps peacefully, finally free from her father’s hands. I guess a bullet in the shoulder was worth it. I move my arm and something pulls at my skin. There is an IV hooked into my arm, and an empty blood bag hanging from the post. Damn. Good thing Carrie was around.
“I’m not dead,” I announce to the room. Rookie jerks awake at my words, but Diem and Carrie both remain asleep.
“How you feeling?” Rookie asks, wiping the sleep from his eyes.
“I’m good. Hand me my smokes.”
He grabs my cigarettes from the dresser, lighting one before passing it to me. “You still pissed at me?”
I look up at him, remembering that the last thing I said was that I was going to pull his patch. “Nah, just disappointed.” No need in lying about it now.
Pulling his chair next to me, he takes a seat. “Clark came by right after you left. He’d been working on a plan of his own to get Diem out.” Dropping his eyes to the floor, he continues. “Dorian thought you were overshadowing Diem’s power. He already had plans to kill you. I figured I didn’t have anything to lose.”
“Diem’s life, Rookie. You had that to lose,” I say, flicking my ashes into his open palm.
He shakes his head. “She’d have never got on that plane, Shady. You know that as well as I do. Even if I drove her there myself, she’d have found a way to escape. That’s real love, man. I know because I got it myself.” His eyes move to Carrie. I watch him as he looks at her with the same burning love I have for Diem.
“You could have called me,” I say, pulling his attention back to me.
“Your phone’s bugged.” Fuck. Of course it is. “You didn’t take a prepaid and I knew you’d rather me stay with Diem than go after you. So, that’s what I did.”
Knowing he’ll answer truthfully, I ask, “What would you do if you were in my shoes?”
“I’d be pissed, but I’d know where your heart was. And I’d trust that you did what you truly thought was right.” The sincerity in his eyes can’t be faked. My brother is telling the truth. So I give him the same courtesy he would have shown me.