Page 3 of The Criminal’s Cure

He groans, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. “Well, what did you expect me to do, Joe? It wasn’t like I could take him to the hospital. It was Los Chavos, I know it.”

Of course he knows who the shooter was. He was probably the target, which only makes me more suspicious of him. All I wanted to do was help the poor little boy, and now I’ve ensnared myself in some brooding criminal war.

“La Eme?” his other friend snarls. “Here in Vegas?”

“Enough.” Joe shuts them down with a venomous stare. “We’re not talking about this in front of her. What is she still doing here, anyway?”

Ty’s body jolts, halting the conversation. He coughs and a few drops of blood appear on his lip.

Damn it. There must have been more internal damage than I initially thought.

“Help him!” Roman’s voice booms off of the walls as he shoves me toward his son.

I bit my lip, trying to figure out what to do next. Taking out the bullet was one thing, but this is completely different. He needs x-rays and an ultrasound and a tube in his chest, and I can’t do any of that on my own. Especially not here.

“Please let me call the ambulance,” I beg. “They’ll take care of him, I promise.”

“No. How many times do I have to fucking say it? No hospitals. No ambulances.”

“The bullet is out now, and you could probably pass it off as some other wound. You wouldn’t even have to tell them it was a gunshot. We can say he got impaled by something in the park, or that there was a car accident. They’ll take good care of him, I promise.”

Roman whips out his gun again, pressing the cool metal to my temple and cocking it back. The click sends a chill winding through my trembling body, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

This is where I’m going to die. I just know it.

Right here on the floor of this warehouse.

In just my sports bra and shorts, still gross and sweaty from my run.

But what do I care? It’s not like anyone is going to find my body.

No one knows where I am or who I’m with.

Hell, I don’t even know that—I was a little too distracted trying to take a bullet out of a child to see the street signs while we drove.

Now no one is going to know what happened to me at all.

“Jesus, Roman. Get a hold of yourself.” Joe attempts to calm him, but I doubt it will work. We’ve obviously established that Roman isn’t the kind of man who takes kindly to opinions he didn’t ask for.

“Not until she helps Ty.” He strides forward until he towers mere inches in front of me, so close it’s like we’re sharing the same breath.

I can’t even bring myself to look up at him, the heat from his glare so intense that I think it might be enough to kill me itself.

Holding my hands up, I take a breath. “Fine. He needs a chest tube. The bullet probably pierced one of his organs and we need to get the blood out.”

“Do it,” Roman sneers.

Rummaging through their med kits, I don’t find much I can use at all.

Clearly, they aren’t equipped for this kind of emergency or injury, yet here we are.

On the table, I see a straw. It’s flimsy and completely unsanitary, but it’s the best thing I’ve got and it might get the job done until I can convince Roman to get his son to a hospital.

“I need the vodka and the first aid kit from the car.”

“Get her what she needs,” Roman directs the other guy, who takes off to get my supplies.

I move towards Ty, nudging Roman out of the way. To my surprise, he doesn’t put up much of a fight and lets me through. My hands tremble as traitorous thoughts echo in my head. I shouldn’t do this. I can’t do this. We’ve got to get to a hospital.

He’s left me with no other choice, though.

Finally, his friend comes back inside and hands me the alcohol and the kit.

I pour vodka over the straw, praying that it’ll be enough, and then I feel around Ty’s chest and abdomen.

Right at the center of his chest, there’s a pressure buildup; I can see the swell forming just below his ribcage.

It isn’t the worst-case scenario, but it isn’t exactly ideal either.

Judging by the location, the bullet could’ve pierced his lungs, or at least grazed one.

I make a small incision over the area like I’ve done countless times before and blood streams out quickly.

After pouring more alcohol over the wound, I work the straw in between folds.

When I get it inserted about halfway, I set it in place, holding my breath and hoping it will start drawing out the blood.

Everyone is on edge as we wait. Come on, Ty.

When a small drop of blood appears at the top of the drain, I almost think my eyes are playing tricks on me, but it’s followed by several more. A steady trickle begins and the pressure in Ty’s chest deflates. He’s breathing on his own.

Roman looks up at me. “He’s okay?”

“For now.” I nod. “But this won’t hold forever. He’s going to need a real chest tube, and medication, and somebody to monitor him. You really need to take him to the hospital.”

“You have supplies to do all of that at the hospital?” Roman arches an eyebrow at me.

Of course, we do. It’s a hospital.

I ignore the idiocy in his response as relief floods me. Have I finally gotten through to him?

Suddenly, he turns to Joe.

“Take her to the hospital so she can get the supplies she needs and bring her back here.”

Joe nods.

My eyes widened in horror. “Are you crazy? Even with the right supplies, this is nowhere to do the level of care he needs. It’s probably crawling with diseases.

” Judging by the cockroaches on the floor and all the fast food containers scattered around, that isn’t an exaggeration.

“You can’t do this. This is kidnapping. It’s child endangerment. Your son needs a doctor.”

Roman stands, stalking towards me with the authority and candor of a man who isn’t used to someone questioning him.

“I’ve had about enough of that smart mouth of yours.

He has a doctor. You. And if you want to live, I suggest you do what I say.

Go to your precious hospital, get the supplies you need, then come back and fix Ty.

If anything happens to him, or you so much as utter a word of this to anyone at the hospital, I will put so much lead in you that you’ll sink to the bottom of the Hoover dam. Are we clear?”

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out, the words dying in my throat. My knees threaten to give out on me at any moment and my whole body quakes..

He takes a punishing hold on my arm, fingers digging into my bicep so hard that I almost whimper. “I said, are we clear?”

All I can do is nod. I’m in way over my head here.