Alejandro woke up in the hospital with Pitbull by his side looking about as bad as he felt. The other man grimaced at him through a swollen lip, his smile twisted so it looked grotesque beneath the mangled flesh. His knuckles were scraped and he moved like a man of a hundred, not thirty-two.

 

“Lucky fucker,” Pitbull croaked hoarsely. “I thought we lost you.” He filled in the blanks for Alejandro: the struggle in the truck that had sent Alejandro tumbling out the back, the one casualty from among the illegals, the four Czechs who were on their way for disposal in an old oil field. “It was the Diablos Verdes,” Pitbull said. “Greedy motherfuckers. They couldn’t leave well enough alone.”

 

“How’d they find out?”

 

“Haji.” Alejandro’s face must’ve registered the shock he felt, but Pitbull held up his hand. “Not what you think. The DVs worked with him in the past but he cut them off because he wasn’t getting paid. They decided they wanted in on the action again and had the Czechs follow him to the industrial park. The rest was a bonus. Well,” he grimaced. “Almost a bonus.”

 

“We got the product?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“And the rest are on their way to Dallas?”

 

“Safe and sound.”

 

“Good.” Alejandro closed his eyes. “Fuck me, I’m getting old. Everything hurts.”

 

“Yeah, bullets and a concussion will do that. They were worried about brain swelling. As if your fucking brain needs to get any bigger,” he teased.

 

“Fuck you, Pitbull,” Alejandro retorted good-naturedly. “How’s everyone else?”

 

“Everybody’s good except for Motormouth and Haji. Haji really ain’t doing too good. They fucked up his kidneys pretty bad.”

 

“Shit.”

 

“Yeah. He’ll be in here a while, I think. They’re sending you home, though.”

 

“Thank fuck. When?”

 

“Couple hours.”

 

Alejandro groaned. “You gonna feed me, sweetheart?”

 

“I sent for some Whataburger, you pussy. What’s the matter, can’t handle the mystery meat and green Jell-O?”

 

“Fuck you,” he replied with a grin. “You try eating that shit.”

 

“Nah.” Pitbull had a gleam in his eye. “There’s this little nurse out there I’m having tonight. Lourdes. She gets off at seven and she’s going to heal me with her love,” he sighed.

 

Alejandro was relieved that Pitbull was okay. They’d been friends a long time, since before Alejandro went off to the magnet school where he met Ali and Pitbull went to Arroyo Tech. He was the closest thing to a brother Alejandro had.

 

“Wait, who’s bringing the Whataburger?”

 

Pitbull grinned. “I called Cristina. She’s going to take care of you.”

 

“Cristina’s coming here?”

 

Two seconds later there was a tentative knock and Ali stepped through the open door clutching an orange-and-white striped bag. Relief surged through him, surprising him. She looked good, but that wasn’t it. The concern in her eyes—that was what did him in. He’d seen that look before, when he’d lost control on his first bike and wiped out. It had been the worst road rash of his life, and Ali had tended his wounds. He’d never loved her more until the day she asked him to make love to her and he lost control of his heart, too.

 

“I’m out,” Pitbull said, rising from the chair with a grunt and nodding at Ali as he passed her. “I’ma go see if Lourdes can take my temperature.”

 

***

 

He looked pale in the harsh florescent hospital lighting, but his face lit up when she walked in. She’d been prepared for his injuries and knew she should be thankful it wasn’t far worse, but the entire side of his face was torn up and he lay stiffly in the hospital bed, obviously trying to mask the pain. Her stomach twisted at the thought of what could have happened to him.

 

“I brought you some food,” she said, awkwardly thrusting the bag toward him even though she was still standing in the doorway.

 

“Thank God, I thought I was gonna have to eat the Jell-O.” He grinned and she walked toward the chair at the edge of his bed where Pitbull had been sitting. “Cristina called you?”

 

She swallowed and nodded. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get here sooner. I was teaching and I hadn’t listened to my messages.” Oh, the way he’s looking at me. Like he’s grateful I’m here. Like I’m the only one he wants to see right now.

 

“It’s just some scrapes and a concussion.” He shrugged. “Honestly, Ali, I’ve had worse football injuries.”

 

“Cristina said it was a severe concussion. And you were shot.”

 

“Shot at,” he corrected. “Bullet grazed my arm. It’s bandaged. I’ll be fine. I’m out of here as soon as they give me the go-ahead.” She was silent and he pressed on. “Really, I’m okay. You should see the other guy.”

 

“Did you—Is he…?” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words, but he knew where she was going with it.

 

“No.” He shook his head. “Not me. Not this time.”

 

“But… Have you? Before?”

 

He avoided her eyes and said nothing for a moment. Then he nodded slowly. “If I absolutely have to.”

 

She didn’t ask the questions she so desperately wanted to ask: How many? And why?

 

“I’m an outlaw, Ali, not a serial killer,” he reminded her. “There’s no joy in it, but sometimes it’s gotta be done.”

 

“I know, it’s just—”

 

“And I’m not asking you to be okay with it. Your conscience is your own.”

 

She nodded and reached for him. “I’m sorry. It’s just such a hard thing to wrap my mind around.”

 

“I get that.” He cradled her hand in his own.

 

“Can I see?” she gestured to the bandages peeking from underneath his hospital gown.

 

“Well, it’s all—” He waved his free hand vaguely around his torso. “It’s no big deal, really.”

 

Ali pressed her lips to his battered knuckles and he sighed. She longed to crawl into the hospital bed with him, kiss away every scrape and bruise, keep him up so he didn’t slip into a coma. Instead she turned his hand and pressed his palm to her cheek until he cupped it on his own.

 

“Ali,” he murmured.

 

“I don’t want to leave you again,” she whispered, the words spilling from her heart right out her mouth. “Can I take you home with me when they let you go?”

 

“I’d like that.” He swallowed and closed his eyes.

 

It killed her to see him so vulnerable, this strong, capable man flat on his back in a hospital bed. It touched something inside her, a memory that hadn’t been made yet, of caring for him at an elemental level. Of anticipating his needs. Her hand trembled as she stroked the unharmed side of his face, and he nuzzled into her palm.

 

“I’m sorry I was so stupid,” she choked, her eyes filling with tears.

 

He didn’t open his eyes, just rubbed his lips across her hand. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

 

“I still don’t know what I’m doing.”

 

“Baby.” He sighed and looked at her then, his eyes grave and pained despite the smile on his face. “That makes two of us.”