“Hello,” I mumbled, not leaving Hayes’ arms.
For the next few minutes, the doctor went over Jake’s injuries.
“Can you explain why he suffered so much blood loss? If the bullet just grazed his shoulder, then wouldn’t I have been able to slow the bleeding?” I asked, glancing at my friend. Jake was a ginger, and gingers usually had pale skin, but the shade of his complexion right now reminded me of death.
“Jake has thrombocytopenia.”
“Thin blood,” Grayson said softly, answering my silent question.
“Is there something wrong with his liver?” I asked, looking back to the doctor.
“No,” Hayes answered, tipping my head back so our eyes could meet. “His thin blood is caused by a genetic mutation that’s been in his family for generations. It’s extremely rare.” He got closer, his green eyes warm. “You did everything right. You did everything you could. Don’t let this eat at you.”
The doctor murmured something to Grayson about paperwork as they stepped back into the hall. I moved back to the side of Jake’s bed, taking his hand in mine. “I need you to get better,” I ordered sharply, my bottom lip wobbling. “We have to finish Frank’s series.”
“You’re reading that too?” Ash asked, a hint of excitement in his voice.
I nodded. “I’m on book four.”
He came to stand on the opposite side of the bed, smiling. “I’m on three. Adam just cheated on Mary Ann.”
Slowly, Ash worked his magic, pulling me out of my guilt, distracting me from the reality of this harsh world while Hayes made some calls, ensuring that my past would never touch me again.
Two days later.
“Gordon has been charged with several counts of drug trafficking and assault, and there’s two charges of murder,” Hayes said, not looking at me. He was sitting at the head of his dining room table, laptop open, files and paperwork scattered around him. I pressed my nails into my palm, waiting for more, and when he didn’t give it, I cleared my throat.
“You were up early this morning.” That dirty blond hair I loved so much was messy atop his head, his scruff thicker. He was wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweats. An empty coffee pot perched on the edge of the table.
“There’s a lot to get done,” he muttered distractedly, jotting something down.
I watched his hand work, knowing his to-do list was twice as long as mine. The shooting at the university had made national news, and a few students had filmed the entire altercation. In order to further protect me, Red Snake was working with the FBI and the press to spin the narrative that I was never involved with Gordon Samson. This was to keep a target off my back as well as the press out of my business. The first story hit the news yesterday evening while Hayes and I were cuddled on the couch. They spun the story and stated that Gordon, under pressure from the FBI, sent his men to the campus to find a hostage. This painted me as a random, unlucky bystander. The FBI also instructed the media to keep out any mentions of Red Snake.
Gordon, after being treated for his injuries, had been transferred to a prison out of state. He would remain there for the duration of his trial. It was unclear whether he would serve his sentence there, but Hayes assured me that Gordon would never set foot on this side of the country again. There was still a chance, if the other charges didn’t stick, that I would have to testify against him. That worried me, but the boys assured me those chances were low.
Jake had been released from the hospital yesterday and was currently being held hostage at Dominic’s apartment. Though Ash wanted Jake to stay with him, Jake refused because Ash had nowhere for him to sleep…Ash’s apartment was practically empty aside from the mattress he slept on and the singular chair in his living room. Carrie and I had gone over there to investigate, curious as to why Jake had said, “fuck no,” to staying…
“There’s nothing here,” I sputtered, gaping at the empty penthouse apartment that sat four floors above Hayes’.
“What the hell?” Carrie whispered, trailing her finger along the edge of the marble island. “Why is it so empty?”
I ventured into the master bedroom and stared at the king-size mattress on the floor dressed in light blue sheets and a dark blue comforter. The colors reminded me of the sea…and they were the only colors in this entire two-thousand square foot apartment. “This isn’t a home,” I whispered to myself.
“He doesn’t even have dishes!” Carrie shouted from the kitchen. I found her opening all the cabinets in a frenzy of disbelief and concern. “Why doesn’t he have any dishes or cookware? How does he eat?”
“Cardinal.”
My best friend turned to face me, her blue eyes wide with horror. I glanced at the fridge, and she followed my gaze. We shared a long look before I sighed and went to open it. “If there’s nothing in here, we have a problem,” she said, coming to stand beside me.
“You and I both know nothing is going to be in here,” I told her, opening the heavy doors.
Sure enough. Nothing. Not even a bottle of water.
“I don’t understand.” She shook her head. “Why doesn’t—maybe he hasn’t finished moving in yet.”
I clicked my tongue. “Hayes told me Ash sold all of his shit when Red Snake decided to relocate to Portland.”
We shared another look, this time, a wave of sadness hitting us. Ash was the goofy guy. Sure, he was huge and could be scary when he needed to be, but around us, he was the one always trying to make us laugh.