Page 4 of Lawton

From the front seat, Sammy said something that I couldn’t make out, probably because he'd just turned up the music. Again.

Soon, I felt a finger at my throat. Checking for a pulse? Hell if I knew.

"If he dies," Trick said, "the boss'll be pissed."

Their boss wasn't the only one. I'd be kind of pissed, too.

Through a cloud of fog, I heard their voices calling back and forth over some forgettable song with too much bass. It was turned up so loud, the doors vibrated with every beat.

Sammy's sound system sucked, and so did his driving. I felt the SUV pop a curb as he rounded the next corner. My body shifted, and I sucked in a breath.

I didn't know how bad they'd beaten me, but I knew it had to be bad. I took punches for a living, so I considered myself an expert when it came to dishing it out and yeah, occasionally receiving.

Normally, I dished out a lot more than I ever took. Not tonight. And not in the usual way.

One stupid punch.

In this case, I didn't mean the hundreds I'd taken. I meant the one I'd delivered. That one stupid punch had knocked the guy out cold. Bad for him. Worse for me. Because that particular fight, I wasn't supposed to win.

I knew the score. Someone had to pay, and that someone was me. With Sammy and Trick, I hadn't bothered to fight back. What was the use? I'd just get it worse in the end. Better to man up and get the damn thing over with. That had been my logic, right up to the moment I coughed up a kidney, along with a lung or two.

Or at least, it sure felt that way.

Now, I was in Sammy's SUV, flopped on the floor, while he drove like an idiot through downtown Detroit. Hell, hewasan idiot, and Trick wasn't much smarter. They were hired tough guys with two basic skills – following orders and hurting people. Tonight, they'd done some of both.

You could call it a twofer.

From up front, Sammy called back, "Get ready. We're almost there."

Knowing these guys, they were taking me one of two places – to the hospital or to the river. Since I was still alive, my best guess was the hospital, assuming I didn't die first along the way. On the upside, I was still conscious. That was a good sign.

Think positive.

"Hey," Trick said, kicking at my bare shoulder. "You dead down there?"

"Not me," I mumbled. "Song sucks though."

I wasn't lying. I wasn't dead, and the song did suck. It was some techno piece of crap that sounded like a million others just like it. But Sammy wasn't exactly the creative type.

I heard tires squeal as Sammy rounded the next corner.

"Remember," Sammy called over the music. "You talk, and your little sister gets it. Granny too."

As if I didn't know.

A second later, the vehicle squealed to a stop, sending me rolling across the wide floor of his oversized back seat. Reaching above me, Trick pushed open the door and shoved me out. I hit the pavement hard and kept on rolling.

When I came to a stop, I was face down on the sidewalk, lying in a pool of blood that happened to be my own.

Through a muddled haze, I heard the SUV squeal off, leaving me to fend for myself or die on the concrete. I sure as hell didn't plan on dying, so I needed to get my ass in gear, like yesterday.

There was only one hitch. I couldn’t make myself move. I closed my eyes. Just for a minute, or at least that was the plan.

And then, from a few feet away, I heard a female voice. "Oh my God."

I heard footsteps on the pavement and felt a soft touch on my bare shoulder. "Are you okay?"

I liked that question. It was a good sign. If she was asking, maybe I wasn't hurt so bad as I thought. I tried to answer, but my lips didn't move.