You Do What You Have To - 5

 

 

"How in God's name did they find you, Darren?"

 

Darren Walker, aka Gary Freeman, aka John, closed his eyes against the sudden intrusion of light and the tight, angry voice of the woman standing beside the bed.

 

"Hell if I know," he replied sourly, finally opening his eyes enough to look at her. "Thank for coming to get me, Olivia."

 

She smiled—almost. "That's what I'm here for. To get your ass out of trouble, among other things," she said sarcastically while she pulled up a chair and sat, looking at him.

 

"How bad are the damages?" he asked.

 

"According to the doc, you'll live. The bullet scored your skull, but didn't enter it, so more blood than real damage. He ran an MRI, and your brain looks good." She smiled sourly. "Well, as good as normal, which in your case isn't saying much." When he flipped her off, she shrugged. "Just calling it like I see it. On the other hand, the shot to your side went in and out, fracturing a rib, which deflected the bullet outward without damaging any internal organs. You're well dosed up on antibiotics and painkillers at the moment."

 

"Great," Darren replied sarcastically. "How long until I can get out of here?"

 

"You should know the answer to that. You've been shot before. Two days, a week? It depends how fast you heal. So"—she tapped her fingers together—"tell me what went down—in detail."

 

He frowned, trying to replay the night in his mind. "Okay. I went to the bar. It was slow, so half-empty. None of Mackenzie's men were there. Neither was the man I was supposed to be meeting. I hung around for a while, watching guys dance to give me something legit to do. This kid and I got to talking. Okay, not a kid really, since I'm putting him at twenty-four, twenty-five. Anyway, one thing led to another and…"

 

"You took him back to the house. Damn it, Darren!"

 

He smiled weakly. "What can I tell you? He was cute? I was bored and horny? Shit happens. So anyway, we finished up. I was getting dressed. He was in the bathroom, and my friendly shooter showed up. He fired twice but, for whatever reason—maybe because he heard the kid and wanted to get away before he was seen—he didn't check to make sure I was dead. I managed to get out of there and ended up where you found me."

 

"After a lot of searching. A toolshed isn't much of a description in that neighborhood." She leaned back, staring at the wall over the bed for a minute. "I take it you didn't get a good look at the shooter?"

 

"Not really. He was silhouetted in the doorway. Tall. Dark hair, as far as I could tell. I was more interested in trying not to die than anything else when it happened. The only thing that got me out of there once he was gone was adrenaline."

 

"Could this kid have seen him? And does he have a name?"

 

"Micky, but that's all I know." Darren shrugged. "If he did see anything, he didn't come running to my defense."