Chapter 15

Leo

I’ve already lost a lot of blood, and if I’m going to make it through this, then we need to act fast.

With Kristen’s help, I’m able to make it over the couch to sit down. Every step is a struggle—my body telling me to just collapse here and now—but I will my way forward.

“Goddammit, Leo! What happened?”

Her panic is starting to take over, which is dangerous for me. This isn’t her world, and I totally understand where she’s coming from, but I need her focused—my life depends on it right now.

“Kristen, focus. I need you to focus. Now, we need to check out the bullet wound, okay?”

I keep my voice level and calm as my eyes never falter from hers…even though the blood loss makes me want to close them and sleep.

Together, the two of us peel off my jacket and shirt. Her touch is light and gentle, but I can see her eyes linger on my chest and the groves of my stomach as we removed my bloodied shirt.

“Okay, is there an exit wound?”

“A…a what?”

I wince and groan in pain as I lean forward so that she can get a view of my back.

“Is there an exit wound on the back of my shoulder?” I ask again.

She shakes her head frantically. “No.”

Fuck. This is going to be worse than I thought.

A hissing groan slips past my clenched teeth as I sit back. And when I look up at Kristen, I can see her shaking.

This isn’t how I had expected—or wanted—the night to go with her.

Well, getting shot is never how I want a night to go.

“Kristen, I need you to go into the bathroom and grab the red medical bag under the sink. It’s hard to miss.”

Kristen nods and starts to go grab the bag but stops and suddenly turns to me.

“Wait, why aren’t we taking you to the hospital? You just got shot! You need to see a doctor.”

Her fear and panic are gripping tighter and asserting more control over her. They drip from her every word.

“I don’t have time to explain why I don’t have time to explain. Kristen, please…go get the bag,” I tell her firmly but calmly.

“Okay,” she whispers.

She runs out of the room to fetch the bag, and I let out a loud groan that I had been holding in.

My attention turns down to the wound in my shoulder, and I mutter a few curse words under my breath—mostly because to say them out loud would take too much energy.

As much I would love to be able to go to a hospital to get this looked at, I can’t. Hospitals ask far too many questions…and so do cops.

Lawson’s got a private surgeon on-call: a doctor who did work for the Cubans down in Miami before Lawson got his hands on him. But even using the guy right now may not be safe either.

No, the only person I can trust right now—believe it or not—is Kristen, of all people. She’s the only person on the outside who I know has absolutely no involvement in what’s going on.

For better or for worse, she’s all I’ve got right now.

Kristen returns with the bag and sets it down on the table with her shaking hands.

I feel guilty, even more than before, about all of this. This isn’t her world…her life. It’s mine, and I dragged her into the hell that it is.

“Wha…what now?”

“Now, now you’re going to pour us both a drink. If you’re going to do this, you need some steady hands,” I answer with a soft chuckle.

“Me? I’m not qualified to fish a bullet out of you,” she exclaims with tremendous panic.

“Kristen, it’s going to be okay. I’m going to talk you through it. But first, get us a drink of bourbon, okay?”

She nods understandingly and goes over to the mini-bar, but instead of pouring us each a couple of drinks, she opens the bottle of and takes a long swill of it.

“Fuck, I needed that,” she says, relieved.

I start to laugh, but it sends a jolt of pain through my shoulder that quickly has me wincing instead.

She rushes to my side, worry and concern radiating from her eyes. It’s touching, and I’m not entirely sure I’m worthy of it.

I take the bottle from her hand and take a long drink from it myself. I can always trust Jim Bean to help burn away the pain—no matter the sort. Next, I take the bottle and pour the dark amber liquid over my wound.

It stings like a son of a bitch and forces me to hiss in pain.

Kristen takes the bottle from me and sets it down on the table. “Okay, so what do we do?”

“Alright, you’re going to open that bag and take a pair of hooked pliers and a scalpel. You’re going to make a small cut in the wound so that you can slide the pliers in and pull out the bullet.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I can’t do that.”

Kristen grabs the bourbon and takes another drink, but her hands are still shaking uncontrollably.

While the booze has helped me, it certainly hasn’t had the same effect on her.

“Please, Leo. Can’t we—”

That’s about all I let her get out before I grab her by the back of the head and pull her in for a forceful kiss. Kristen’s surprised at first, but she quickly embraces the kiss and returns the gesture.

Almost immediately, I feel a sense of calm wash over her. Her hands steady themselves as her fingers graves along my bare chest.

When our lips part, Kristen lets loose a heavy sigh.

“Now, grab the scalpel and pliers,” I tell her coolly.

Kristen goes to work right away at removing the bullet from my shoulder. The kiss—much to my surprise—continues to work its magic as her hands remain steady through the whole process.

Her cuts are clean, and she’s able to remove the bullet—which, any deeper, would have nicked an artery and made me bleed out faster. And for a woman who’s never stitched someone up before, her work is clean and tight. From experience, I know that the scar will hardly be noticeable, thanks to her.

She finishes putting the bandage over the wound, and I lean back into my couch. No sooner do I relax does Kristen begin shaking once more. The calmness that enveloped her long enough to stitch me up has long worn off.

The leggy blonde sits beside me and curls up around me. I wrap my arm, my good one, around her and pull her in tightly to me. We’re both exhausted right now, as the adrenaline is starting to wear off, but having her so close to me has my body feeling as though it’s on fire.

Kristen stares up at me, looking like she’s on the verge of tears.

“What happened tonight, Leo?”

I want to tell her the truth, but for her safety, I can’t. I refuse to let her get sucked into this shitshow of a world I live. She deserves better than that.

And I will keep her safe from it at all costs…even if it means my life.

I don’t answer her question, and instead, I lean down and kiss her soft, supple lips as if there were no tomorrow for us. Because, ultimately, it’s a very real possibility.

Her body twists as she re-positions herself to deepen the kiss between us. Kristen’s hands pull me in closer to her, as if she can’t bear to have our bodies apart, and I willingly go along with it.

We both know that we can’t stop where this is going. This…thing between us has reached its boiling point. And this hunger, this thirst, needs to be quenched before we burn the world down around us.