SIXTEEN
“No.”
That was the only word Amber could get out. No strength to say anything beyond that, though she wanted to yell, scream at the top of her lungs.
“Yes, babe.” Ross stroked her hair. “I gotta make the call. I don’t know what else to do.”
He scooted closer to her on the bed.
“He hasn’t been picked up. I saw an article about the robbery earlier. He’s still out there.”
Amber shook her head.
“Yeah. I think he can help us. You remember that time I came home with my arm all stitched up, back when Shane and I were touring?”
She remembered. Years ago, that was. Late one night, Ross had shown up at their apartment after a performance with a nasty stitched-up wound on his arm. He told her he’d fallen off the stage while performing.
“Probably don’t have to tell you this, but I didn’t fall off the stage. Some guy thought we were shortchanging him on product, a fight broke out, and next thing I knew, he pulled out a knife and stabbed me.”
At the time, his explanation for the injury had seemed odd, but she hadn’t really suspected anything. It had happened before Ross was arrested, back when she thought that Ross and Shane were struggling singers chasing a dream, back before she had any idea they were selling drugs on the side.
“Point is, when I got stabbed, Shane insisted that we not call nine-one-one. He didn’t want the attention. So he called up a friend, some doctor. This guy came over and stitched me right up, no questions asked. Turns out Shane had this doctor in his pocket because he sold him drugs, did some work on the side for him.
“So what I’m thinking is, if Shane calls up this doctor, he could help you out. Stitch you up. Give you whatever medication and stuff you need.”
“No. No Shane.”
“He’s gonna be pissed. I know. But I think I can make a deal with him. Work something out. We’re still brothers. The Blood Brothers. That counts for something.”
Amber tried to speak but she couldn’t. Her light-headedness was back, worse than before. She was floating, barely able to concentrate.
“We gotta get you stitched up,” Ross said. He leaned down and ran a finger along her forearm. “Wish there was another way, but there isn’t. Getting you fixed up, that’s the focus right now. I just gotta convince Shane to help us.”
Ross tapped the phone screen a few times. He put it on speaker and the line rang.
“Yeah?” a voice answered.
The speakerphone was slightly warbled, but Amber still recognized Shane’s rough, throaty voice.
“It’s Ross.”
A few seconds of silence.
“You there, Shane?”
“You bastard. You goddamned bastard.”
“I just wanna talk,” Ross said. “Calm down.”
“Calm down?” Shane said, voice rising. “After what you did to me, you want me to calm down?”
“Just hear me out.”
“Piss off.
“I need your help.”
“Piss off.”
“I’m in a jam. Actually, it’s Amber. She’s injured. Gunshot wound.”
“What’s this got to do with me?”
“Remember that time I got stabbed and your doctor friend stitched me up? Wondering if you would reach out to him, see if he could help her.”
“She can rot in hell for all I care.”
“Please, man. This is family. I—”
“Family? Fucking family? Don’t give me that shit.”
“I messed up, with everything that happened at the bank. That’s all I can say. You help Amber out, and I’ll do anything to make it up to you. Push drugs for you. Let you keep all the profits. Hell, I’ll rob another bank. Anything to make it up to you.”
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
Silence on the other end. Ross grabbed a small paper bag, sprayed some paint into it, and took a long pull, smudging more red around his mouth.
“I made a mistake, man,” Ross said into the phone. “One mistake. I don’t know what I was thinking. But it can’t end everything for us. Our bond is stronger than that.”
“Fine,” Shane said. “I’ll help. But only because I got no cash, no place to go, no nothing right now.”
A small smile appeared on Ross’s face. “Where you at?”
“Down near Saint Louis,” Shane said. “I stole a car after the robbery, barely got away, called up everyone I could think of, asking for help. You remember our old friend Smitty? Owns a bar down here? I’m crashing with him. Only a temporary thing, though. You? Where you at?”
“Over in Iowa. Just outside of Cedar Rapids.”
“Got an address?”
“Hold on,” Ross said. He left the room and returned a moment later holding an envelope. He read off the address printed on the front of the envelope.
“The hell are you doing there?”
“Long story. I’ll give it to you when you get here.”
“Fine. Should be there in four hours or so.”
“Okay. Thank you, Shane. Never should’ve turned my back on you. The Blood Brothers—we’ll be even better than before.”
The call ended. Ross placed the phone back in his pocket. He looked down at Amber. She wanted to say so much. She didn’t want Ross to be dragged back into the life they were trying to escape. This plan would only end in disaster.
“D-don’t,” she said to Ross.
“Yes, babe,” Ross said. “This is how it has to be. This is the only way we can get you to a doctor. If this is what I got to do to save you, then it’s what I got to do.”
“We can’t—”
The pain flared up. Like a needle being driven deep into her stomach.
Ross grabbed her hand. “Is it bad?” he asked.
She closed her eyes and winced. Nodded.
“You just gotta try to take your mind off it.”
Karen pulled her left hand and left foot against the zip ties that secured them to the chair. She bent her body at the waist and leaned as far to the left as she could. By contorting her body like that, she could bring the scalpel in her sock within a few inches of her wrist.
“What are you doing, Mom?” Joshua said.
“I grabbed a scalpel from the hospital. It’s in my sock.”
“A scalpel?”
“Keep your voice down,” she said. Ross and Amber were in the room next to them, only a thin wall between them. Through the walls, she could hear them talking but couldn’t quite understand what they were saying. “And, yes,” she said to Joshua. “A scalpel.”
She tried again: she strained against the zip ties securing her wrist and ankle to the chair, pulling as hard as she could, and leaned her body to that side. The scalpel was still a few inches out of reach.
When she’d grabbed it from the hospital, she didn’t have a plan or any real idea of what she was going to do with it. Just seemed like the scalpel was the type of thing that might be useful. If things got out of hand, if something unpredictable happened, it’d be better to have it than not.
“You think you can cut yourself free?” Joshua asked.
“Maybe,” she said. “If I can grab it.”
She reached once more—still a few inches away—and slumped into her chair. It was no use. She’d been trying to grab the scalpel for the past few minutes, and there was no way she was contorting her forty-two-year-old body enough to reach it. Not unless she tore a muscle or ligament.
Her thoughts drifted to the hospital. She couldn’t even imagine how much of a madhouse the hospital was right now. A patient escaping would bring an immediate, urgent response. Alerts and notifications would have been sent out to every department. The entire hospital would be on edge. The police were probably interviewing people, trying to piece together what happened. She wondered if the detective from earlier, Franny, was the one handling the investigation.
Carmella, Karen knew, would be the focus. Police would want to get her story. She could only hope that Carmella would stick to the plan and tell the police that she’d been ambushed at gunpoint by a skinny, scraggly man. If she didn’t . . . well, it was only a matter of time before the police stormed her house and the situation got even more out of control than it already was.
Amber tried to ignore the pain, tried to find some hidden reserve of strength to help her power through the burning, throbbing sensation in her stomach. But nothing helped. The pain persisted.
Ross remained sitting on the side of the bed, stroking her hair, telling her she’d be all right, to just hang on. Amber closed her eyes and focused on Ross’s voice. But the only thought on her mind was that this wasn’t going to end well. There were a million things that might go wrong. She might not make it. Shane might go crazy when he arrived. Even if they did survive this, where would they be? Back in the same situation as before. No money. Ross teamed up with his brother again, heading on a path that would land him in jail. Or worse.
“You scared, babe?”
She nodded.
“Don’t be. I can handle Shane. I can convince him to forgive us. I’ve always been there for him. Always stuck by his side. One mistake won’t change that. Shane, he’ll understand.”
Had to be the drugs talking. Shane wasn’t the type of person who listened. And he certainly wasn’t the type of person who forgave. She thought about the endless times she’d seen him lose his temper. The arguments, the fights. The times she’d seen him beat people senseless over something as minor as looking at him the wrong way.
She tried to beg Ross to leave but felt a sharp dagger of pain before she could get a word out. She gritted her teeth and waited for it to dull . . . but it wouldn’t.
“You all right?” Ross asked.
She shook her head.
“Hold up,” he said. “I’m getting the lady. I’ll be right back.”