Pereira had her eyes on the road. She didn’t turn her head, but she’d heard him.
I calmed my breathing enough to speak.
“Dane, you don’t get to do that on a stretcher.”
“I just did.”
“You’re medicated.”
“Not yet. They said it’s coming.”
“Stay on the line and talk about something stupid.”
“Okay.” I heard the rattle of the gurney. “There are three coffee makers in my apartment.”
“What?”
“You said three coffee makers and one decent frying pan. I have all of those already.”
“Dane.”
“You said it on Monday. I’ve been thinking about it.”
I pressed the heel of my free hand against my eye.
“You’re bleeding through a thigh wound and doing inventory.”
“Nothing else to do.” He laughed briefly and coughed. His voice was thickening. Pain meds kicking in.
“I’ll be at the hospital in two hours,” I said.
“I’ll be there.”
“Canal in twenty,” Pereira said. “Close your eyes for ten of them.”
I closed my eyes, but I didn’t sleep. I sat in the dark with the earpiece feeding me the small, clean sounds of an ambulance moving Dane toward a hospital where they were going to fix him.
Eamon clicked in. “Charter’s ready. The pilot’s name is Renner. Six-eighteen wheels up if Pereira keeps her foot down.”
“She’s keeping it down.”
“Surgery starting in twelve. You’ll be there before he wakes up.”
Eamon clicked off.
I tapped the comm. “Cabot?”
“Here.”
“How is he?”
“Asleep. The surgeon came out of the doors. Said Dane's a good candidate for routine repairs. He used the word routine twice.”
Renner had the door open for the helicopter before I reached it. He was thick-shouldered in a flight suit.
“Farrow, belt across the chest and waist. Wheels up in ninety seconds.”
Renner ran his checks. The rotors started up. He spoke to the tower, got clearance, and left the ground.