“As good as we can expect, but honestly we don’t know shit, not until she wakes up. She could be absolutely fine or she could be a damn vegetable. But the doctors say in another day or two she should begin to wake up on her own since they reduced her meds.” Max scraped a hand over his face and groaned before settling his gaze on me. “What’s up with you man, you look like shit.”
“Don’t worry about me, Max. I didn’t come here to get into the shit with you, just checking on you both.”
He grunted. “Might as well tell me since you need someone to talk to and I have no where else to be. Yet.” I heard his words and I understood his meaning.
“It’s just little shit that makes me feel like someone bigger than we know is out to get us. Fucking paper pushers complained about the width of the doors at Bungalow Three so we have to get them all expanded by a fucking eighth of an inch.” They gave us thirty damn days or they’ll shut us down. “Just stupid things. Cops tried to do a compliance check at one of the dispensaries too.”
“What the fuck?”
“Exactly. Who else besides Roadkill would want us fucked up like this? It could be the Killer Aces, but I don’t think so. This problem has to be local. We need to get Mayhem back under our control.”
“You talk to the guys yet?” Max didn’t wait for me to answer as his eyes widened. “That’s what the barbecue was for wasn’t it?”
“Yep. Great timing, right?”
“The best,” he grinned, but it dimmed as he looked to Jana, pale and damn near lifeless in the bed.
“I have some other news.” I didn’t want to tell him but I owed him that much. If I was going to make up for what had happened to his wife, I had to start somewhere and this was as good a place as any. “You’re not gonna like it but I need you to be cool.”
“I’m listening.” His tone said he wasn’t listening at all, but I knew what I had to say would reel him in.
“Moon saw the car that fired into her shop. Yellow and black muscle car. She thinks it was a Mustang or something similar.”
Max’s jaws clenched and his eyes darkened with angry. No, not anger. It was fury. Blinding white fury.
“Fucking Vigo,” he spat out, his thoughts mirroring my own. “I thought Buzzkill was supposed to take care of that asshole?”
“I thought so too. They had their chance, now it’s open season.”
“Damn right it is. I could use a bit of therapy right now,” he said, smacking his palm with his fist.
“Yeah. Jag’s looking into the footage around town just to be sure, but I have no fucking doubt it was him. But Max, and I mean the fuck out of this, don’t worry about Vigo.”
“How can I not?” He was angry and rightfully so, but I wouldn’t budge on this.
“Because I’m your President and I’m telling you not to. Jana and Charlie and that little girl, they need you, man. They fucking need you to be here with them until they’re out of trouble. And trust me, if you’re not here and something does happen, you’re done. You won’t be able to forgive yourself and the fucking guilt will eat you alive.”
“Cross,” he began, understandably ready to fight. I didn’t blame him. If there had been someone, anyone, to take out my anger on over Lauren’s death, I would have. I would’ve been drunk off it, not stopping until the pain of losing her was gone.
It was never fucking gone. Not ever.
“I’m serious. When Jana wakes up, you better fucking be here. You and Jana are my family and Vigo is at the top of my list right now.” That motherfucker had no idea how dead he already was. If he hadn’t left Vegas yet, I’d make sure it was the decision he regretted most in his pathetic fucking life. “I got you.”
Chapter Six
Moon
More than a week had passed since I set foot in my shop. It was the longest time I’d spent away since I opened it. Rainbow Canvas was my life and my only priority aside from Beau. Today, it needed all of my attention. Not for cleaning, because the insurance adjuster had already come out and done his part of the job and the window guys, painters for the outside and cleaners had done everything they could.
The state of the floors wrecked me, though. From the blood and the gunshots, I had to consider getting new floors or hiring a specialist to repair them because those floors used to be gorgeous and gave the shop personality. I could no longer look at the shop and see the place I created with hard work, love and a lot of elbow grease. Now it was foreign. Different. Strange. It was a crime scene.
And it felt like one, so I reached into the plastic bin behind the counter and grabbed a few bundles of sage and lavender and lit them at the entrance and the archway that led back to the painting area and gallery.
I sat on the floor as they burned, filling the air with relaxing, protective scents that settled my shoulders back to their normal position. I needed to clear my mind and center myself so that each time I looked at the spot at the right of the half circle, I didn’t see Jana lying there bleeding out.
Thirty minutes later I was as stressed and worried as ever, and the sage and lavender had burnt out completely.
A knock sounded at the door that made me jump so high in the ai