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“Boone, come on, you cannot be serious right now.”
“I am serious, and I don’t need a doctor. Just help me. Grab the things that look like pliers.”
“Boone?” she asked.
“Trust me, Lucia. I know what I am doing.”
She looked ready to argue, but then it was like she gave up, reached into the bag, and pulled out the pliers. He took them from her and placed them against his wound, feeling around.
“Stop. Stop!” Lucia said. “You’re going to hurt yourself. You’re crazy! Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Yeah, I’ve been told many times.”
She watched as he pulled out a torch, shined it on his wound, and then started to work the tip of the pliers inside. He grabbed the bullet and pulled it out.
“How did you know this didn’t require a doctor?” she asked.
“It’s not the first time I’ve pulled a bullet out of my body. You’re going to need to sew it up for me,” he said.
“You’ve been shot before?”
“Multiple times. It’s why I’ve got all the ink.”
“Have you ever thought about trying not to get shot?”
“My charming personality gets in the way.”
Lucia laughed but he heard it was close to hysterical.
“I never knew you had a sense of humor.”
“It would appear being shot at by one of your father’s men brings out the humor in me.”
“I’m so sorry. Did he say what he wanted? Besides killing us?” she asked.
“Yeah, he just wanted to say hello and I was the one who said goodbye.”
“What does this mean?”
“It means your father is a giant pain in the ass,” he said.
Lucia laughed. “We already know that. Does that mean you have to leave before the three days?”
“No, I don’t have to leave just yet. Besides, I don’t want to do that to Frank.”
She sighed.
“Are you sure about this?” she asked, holding up the needle.
“Yeah, I’m sure. I can handle it.”
She shook her head, but she got started on stitching up the hole. “You know this could get infected.”
“It’ll be fine,” he said.
“You’re crazy.”
He laughed and watched as Betty strolled in and went to one of his sofas, jumping on it, and getting settled. He had no doubt in his mind she was the reason he hadn’t spotted them being followed. Lucia had been so upset and he’d been so distracted in fixing the problem that he had been shot. Not that he blamed the dog. Betty was as protected as Lucia was. Whatever his woman loved would be protected.