Page 8 of Hostile Saint

“Shit,” he cursed. “The girl? She got someone we can call? These woods aren’t safe for her to be running around in. They need to search for her. And I’m not lookin’ to get involved. Capeesh?”

Even though I had no fluid to offer my eyes to cry, I think my expression said everything that was needed. Her brothers had just tried to kill her, and her mother was as bad as mine. There was an unnerving truth to be told. I was all Lacey had.

Model-Man grumbled, “Fuck,” as he suspiciously peered about. “She your woman, kid?”

It was barely a nod, but I delivered. Lacey’s life was counting on me.

“Jesus H. Christ.” Model-Man spoke as if instantly understanding my panic. His words and tone told me I’d made a huge mistake by insisting Lacey run. This man understood the love for a woman.

With barely enough air in my lungs to sustain my body, I whispered, “Don’t… let… them find… her.”

“They still here? The fuckers,” he gestured to my body, “who messed you up?”

“N-Not sure—” I stopped when noticing movement to my right.

From behind Eye-Patch, a beast of a man was rushing to Model-Man’s back. He was standing with a pointed gun as if searching for an immediate threat. “Nothing,” he said. “I think they belonged to those taillights when we arrived.”

They’re gone… Relief sailed through my body.

I guess my eyes started closing because Eye-Patch became persistent, smacking my face again. “No-can-do, kid. There’s no such thing as ten lives.”

The taller man was examining the ground. “There’s a little trail of blood. That girl is hurt.”

Eye-Patch nodded to the man to my left. “There’s blood behind me.” More quietly, he told him, “I think we’re losin’ him, brother. Need to make a decision.”

If they were willing to help, there was no time to waste on me. They had to choose to help Lace. So, with the last bit of energy I had, my left hand searched for the one who was asked to make the decision. Finding his hand, I tried to squeeze but simply didn’t have the strength. My jaw shook as I forced out, “Her.” I needed him to know the sad truth. “Choose her. I-I’m all… she-e g-got and,” I tried to swallow the gathering blood, “almost… d-dead, anyway.”

Peering about again, grumbling, something caught his eye. It was on the trunk of the tree at my head. After he studied it for a few seconds, he then stared at me.

A meaningful silence lingered between us.

Then there was a stale chuckle to my right. Eye-Patch mumbled, “Ya big ol’ soft bastard,” as he peered up to talk to the other man. “Vice, have them bring that truck over here. And get me a couple of Prospects.”

“On it.” Vice slid a gun in the back of his jeans and took off running.

Still holding my hand, Model-Man smirked down at me. “It’s your lucky day, Nine Lives. Apparently, ten lives do exist.” He regarded his friend. “Think I’m making a mistake, VP?”

VP?

Eye-Patch replied, “Nah. The kid has heart. I think he’s only alive for whoever we need to go’n find.”

They’re going to help me. They’re going to help my Pretty Girl.

They were scary as fuck, but I already trusted them. Maybe, when you’re dying, you’re close enough to God to have the gift of recognizing good people. That had me sighing—which turned into a coughing fit, blood spurting.

“Ah, fuck.” VP quickly scooped my body up off the ground and warned me, “Don’t stop worrying, Nine Lives. If you do, that means you die.” With barely any effort, he carried me to a truck that was racing toward us. “Remember, she’s alone in the woods. She’s in danger. Worry.”

My jaw tightened as I thought of how many things could go wrong before they found her. “That’s it, kid. Get mad. Think about the fuckers who hurt your girl and hold on to that anger. It may keep you alive.”

His theory made perfect sense. So, that’s what I did. I fought. I stayed mad. I thought of the brothers and what they did to Lacey’s unconscious body. I thought about how much I wanted revenge. I didn’t go to sleep until I was in some closed-for-the-day veterinarian office.

On a steel operating table meant for animals, I watched an older doctor who was presently knocking me out with something in my IV. He had cut away all my bloodied clothes and maneuvered bright lights to hang over me. There was clinical shit everywhere. Metal trays with tools I was confident were soon going to be used on me. Against some walls were see-through cabinets that held cotton balls and medicine bottles that sure weren’t meant for humans.

Model-Man stood by the table, staring at me as if he didn’t believe I would make it. “I have Prospects searching for her. We’ll find her. Live so you can see her again.”

Model-Man had a lot to learn about me. As I felt the drugs take a hold of me, I thought to myself, I will. For her, I’ll do anything.

As if no time had passed, I suddenly heard voices. One I hadn’t heard before said, “My club owes you one for taking in my friends like this. We won’t forget it.” Then his voice changed as he spoke to someone else. “Brother, we have an issue across town, but I’m leaving two boys in the waiting room for you.”