Jesse (Damage Control 2)

Whatever happens to me, I need to draw them away from him. This is about me, and it’s perfectly clear in my mind that, if one of us has to die tonight, it has to be me.

Another blow catches me in the side, and I hiss at the burning pain. Grabbing my assailant’s bat, I drag him away from Seth. Pulling the bat toward me, I kick him in the shin, and as his grip loosens, I take the bat and swing at the other two.

One of them is Simon—huge, pissed and with a gun sticking out of his belt.

It’s ridiculous. I’m outnumbered, Simon wants my hide, and my only chance is to lead them to the main street where others might see them and help me. My only saving grace is that Simon doesn’t seem intent on putting a bullet through me. He wants to play, wants to see me rolling in pain, crawling and begging.

“Come on, Simon,” I goad him. “Come get me.”

He works his jaw, hefts the bat. “You little shit. You thought you could betray me? Report me? Thought I wouldn’t know?”

Yeah, he’s pissed all right.

“I was never loyal to you in the first place, motherfucker.” I spit at him, saliva and blood. I think one of my teeth is loose. “You think you can beat up whoever stands in your way? Fuck you.”

He says nothing, moving in—for the kill, I think, and I swing the bat as I back away, toward the main street. At least they’ve left Seth alone. Simon’s beef is with me.

Good.

Block, parry—with a fucking bat, dammit, never imagined how heavy the motherfuckers could be—and I’m damn glad for those self-defense lessons Rafe gives us every week at the gym. Only, I have two thugs battering down on me, and the third guy…

Dammit, where is the third guy?

I lift my bat to block more blows, arms rapidly growing heavy, as I try to spot him. I manage to protect my side from yet another incoming, sidestep a kick—

A blow on the head from behind drops me like a stone. I hit the ground hard once again. I think I see people heading toward us and yell for help, but I’m not even sure I make it as darkness swirls in my eyes.

Oh fuck, is the last thing that goes through my mind, and then it’s quiet.

***

Stench of chemicals and air so cold and dry it strips all moisture from your eyes.

Fucking joy.

Yeah, I hate hospitals. Although I’ve only ever been here for the tests I had, to make sure I haven’t caught any nasty disease from my previous lifestyle, I hate them.

Lifestyle. That’s what the doc called it when he ordered the tests. Made it sound like a choice. Like an option.

“How’s Seth?” I ask for the hundredth time, and I’m again ignored. “Is his leg broken?”

“The doctor will be right with you in a second,” the nurse reassures me.

As if that’s what I’ve been asking her. The hell.

“Look, I’m fine. I just wanna check on my friend, okay?”

“Please stay here until the doctor arrives to examine you.” She gives me a stern look and goes away, closing the door behind her.

The fuck I will. I get up, slightly dizzy but well enough to walk, thank you very much. An arm wrapped around my ribs, my lower back burning like fire, aches blooming in every part of my body, I make my slow way out of the small room.

Need to find Seth. A ball of dread has settled in my gut. I’m afraid they aren’t telling me what the fuck’s wrong with him.

Because of me. He’s in here because of me.

Fucking hell.

I find another nurse on the way. She seems startled to see me wandering about, and she says something to that end, but I cut her off.