Steel Rush (In the Shadows#5) (35 page)

Sebastian ignores Calder’s attempt to brush him off and lifts his cousin’s arm over his shoulder, helping him off the island. “I’ll take you to the bedroom. You need to keep pressure on that wound until Cass’s friend can help.”

“I told you I don’t need stitches.” Calder tries to sound fine, but tension laces his tone. “I wouldn’t turn away a couple shots of whiskey though.”

“Don’t you dare give him alcohol,” I say, walking toward the elevator.

“Where are you going?” Talia pauses in the process of tossing bloody gauze into the trash.

I push the elevator button. “To wait for my friend downstairs.” When the door slides closed and I start to descend, I mutter, “And hope I can convince him to help.”

M
y hip hurts like a son of a bitch, but I’ve had worse, and honestly I’m more worried about Cass. I don’t like that she went downstairs by herself. Rationally I know that very few people know about Bash’s apartment and there’s security downstairs. That’s partially why I told Cass to bring us here, but once she brings her friend upstairs, at least one other person will know where we are. I hate this out-of-control feeling of not knowing who the hell just tried to kill us. I hope they were after me. The thought of someone trying to hurt Cass, especially when I’m not one-hundred-percent, really fucks with my head.
I hate this shit.

Propped up with pillows against the headboard, I snap at my cousin, who’s leaning on the doorjamb after handing me a pair of his lounge pants. “I don’t need a babysitter. Go downstairs with Cass.”

Bash shakes his head and crosses his arms. “She’s safe or I never would have let her go. Tell me as much as you can remember, starting with your address—you’ve got to stop this reclusive shit.” Pinning me with a hard glare, he continues, “After Cass’s friend gets here, my team and I will head over and see if we can find spent casings or anything else that might give us a clue as to who’s after you.”

Once I relay as much as I can remember, Bash’s brow furrows. “Isn’t your apartment in the revitalized part of the Lower East End?”

“Just…it’s on the edge,” I say, daring him to challenge my choice with a hard stare.

“So for all you know, the shooting could’ve just been random sketchy shit?” Bash frowns, then calls over his shoulder, “Talia, did any of the buildings in the revitalized part of the Lower East End pop up in your research?”

When she doesn’t answer, he walks away and a couple seconds later curses as he steps back into my doorway with his phone to his ear.

“Where is she?” I ask, suddenly tense.

“Being
Talia
,” he says before speaking into the phone in a clipped tone. “Theo, I need you to track Talia’s cell and follow her. You’re the only one she won’t rip into if she sees you.” He pauses and sighs. “Yeah, just…keep her safe and text me once you locate her.”

When he hangs up, I chuckle, then instantly regret the agony that shoots across my hip. “She challenges the hell out of you, doesn’t she?”

Bash slips his phone in his pocket, muttering, “Every day.” Glancing up at me, he snorts. “What are you chuckling about? If Cass hasn’t already barreled through your bullshit, get ready for the freight train, Cald.”

I smirk. “She literally sacked me in a fit of rage earlier.”

Bash holds his hand to Cass’ height. “Little Cass?”

“She packs a punch,” I grunt. Not that I’ll ever admit that my back still hurts from hitting the floor, but I’d take the hit and pain all over again just to know that Cass cares. She’ll never know how much her extreme reaction meant to me, even if I’ll never be worthy of her.

“Good, maybe she knocked some sense into that thick skull of yours.”

I ignore his comment and focus on his earlier question, hoping to distract myself from the pain in my side. “What research of Talia’s were you referring to?”

“She’s working on several angles between researching both Brent and Phillip’s backgrounds. I’d like to know if that building across from yours turned up in any of the paperwork.”

“Did Talia uncover anything related to the Opera house and Thomas?”

“Surprisingly, one of Phillip’s subsidiaries owns that Opera property.”

“Phillip?” I frown my confusion.

“Yeah, that was unexpected. As for Thomas’s murder, my police contact says he’ll pass along the medical examiner’s report on Thomas’s autopsy, hopefully by tomorrow.”

“Phillip doesn’t strike me as a MMA enthusiast. Did Talia look to see if he has any connections with MMA fighting in New York or elsewhere?”

Sliding his hands into his pants pockets, Bash nods. “It’s the first thing she did, but she couldn’t find anything. At least not yet. We’re still look—” He pauses, glancing into the living room. “Cass is back. I’ll see if they need anything.”

“I’ll just wait right here,” I say to the empty doorway, then glance down to see blood wicking up my bandage and grunt my annoyance. “Slowly bleeding out.”

A minute later, Cass walks in and the determined look on her face puts me on instant alert. I cut my gaze to the friend walking in behind her and snarl, “What the fuck is he doing here?”

“You don’t get a choice in the matter,” Cass says, approaching my side of the bed.

“The hell I don’t. He’s not touching me.” I narrow my gaze on Ben Hemming setting his medical bag on the end of the bed. I might need stitches, but the last thing I want it is to owe a fucking Hemming anything.

“Show me your wound,” Ben says in a stern tone after flicking his gaze to the tattoo on my shoulder, arm, and ribs.

I consider flipping him off, but Cass glares at me, so I peel back the tape and show him my wound, then quickly push the bandage back into place to keep more blood from flowing.

Ben picks up a pair of rubber gloves and snaps them on. “Actually, you don’t have a choice, so stop being an asshole and let me do my job.”

“Screw you, Hemming. I know the only reason you’re here.” When I cut a pointed gaze to Cass, she crosses her arms and sets her jaw at a stubborn angle.

“Ben said you’d be a pain in the ass, but you’re
going
to let him sew you up.”

“I sure as hell would hate to disappoint,” I bite out, eyeing them both.

“And surly too.” Ben looks at me after threading a curved needle. “Do you want a shot to numb the area first?”

I look at Bash, who’s standing in the doorway like he’s ready to tackle someone if necessary. “Whiskey, straight up.”

Ben shakes his head at Bash. “Alcohol will thin his blood. That’s the last thing he needs right now. I recommend juice.”

“What am I, five?” I growl, then grit my teeth at the pain my snappy response caused.

Setting down the needle on a sterile pad, Ben glances at Cass and Bash. “I need everyone to clear the room, please.”

Cass’s gaze pings nervously between Ben and me. When Bash walks away, she bends close and whispers harshly in my ear, “Behave.”

Once they close the door, Ben gestures to the bed. “Scoot down and lay on your side.”

Grunting my annoyance, I do as he says.

When he rubs something that smells like astringent across my wound, I growl and jerk upright, my fist clenched and ready to punch. He quickly shoves me back down. “Lay still. I need to clean the area. Aren’t you supposed to be a SEAL?”

“It’s a knee-jerk reaction,” I grumble and suck up the pain the second time he runs the pad across my wound.

While Ben sews my injury closed, his movements swift and professional, I set my back teeth together and stay quiet.

He’s done in a matter of minutes and once he puts a clean bandage on my wound, he looks at me. “Cass says you have some kind of fight you’re doing in a couple of days. Your stitches need to be kept clean and take at least a week to heal, two weeks is better based on the location. Fighting is
not
recommended.”

“I’ll take it under advisement,” I mutter.

Ben quietly puts his bag back together and when he’s done, he walks to the door. Putting his hand on the doorknob, he turns back to me, his dark eyebrows pulled together in a determined expression. “I had no idea what all Cass had been through until now. She thinks you’re worth fighting for. Do right by her and help her forget or I’ll fight you for her.”

The fact that Cass confided in him about her past really rankles.
I narrow my gaze. “Thanks for the stitches,
Hemming asshole
.”

His jaw muscle jumps as he turns the knob. “Right back at you,
brother
.”

My gaze narrows to thin slits as I watch him open the door and walk out.

I
let go of the tightness in my chest when Ben leaves Calder’s room without them coming to blows. After he nods to Sebastian, who’s on the phone in the kitchen, I walk him over to the elevator.

“Thank you so much for your help. I know Calder wasn’t the easiest patient.”

He twists his lips in a wry smile. “That’s an understatement. I told him he definitely shouldn’t fight with those stitches, but you’ll probably be calling me again in a few days. Next time, I’ll take a beer as payment when I’m done.”

“It’s a deal,” I say, putting my hand out.

Ben takes my hand and nods toward the kitchen where Sebastian keeps one eye on us while carrying on a conversation. “I’m glad you have so many people watching over you, Cass. Their protectiveness eases my worry over this shooting business, not to mention my own guilt.”