Drained and drowsy from the pain meds, Sam fell asleep not much later.
So Slider slipped out and stopped at the nurses’ station. “Any word on Cora Campbell in surgery yet?” But there wasn’t. “How about Haven Randall?” No news on her, either. Slider had learned that Haven had been hit in the shoulder, too, so the two best friends were going to have matching scars. Someday, a long, long time from now, he might find some humor in that. Hell, Cora would probably find the humor even sooner.
But not him. Not today.
A few rooms down, he knocked on a door, and found Caine sitting in bed, his left arm bandaged from wrist to elbow, Phoenix at his side. A bullet had passed straight through Caine’s wrist, yet Slider distinctly recalled seeing him run after the truck in the seconds after the shooting. It was one of the few clear memories he had that wasn’t directly associated with Cora and Sam.
“Hey,” Slider said. “How are you feeling?”
“It’s not serious,” Caine said. “How are Cora and Sam?”
“Sam’s fine. Sleeping. No word on Cora and Haven.” Slider blew out a breath, his every movement like walking through molasses. “What happened after?”
Phoenix rose, his expression more serious than Slider had ever seen it during all the years they’d known each other. “Maverick, Caine, and I took care of it. It’s over. It’s done. We made it look like Dominic and Davis turned on each other, and Martin will make sure that’s how the scene report reads, too.”
It was a hollow sort of satisfaction. Slider couldn’t take any pleasure from it. But he did at least draw a measure of relief. “Good.”
“Fuck, Slider,” Phoenix said, gripping the rail of Caine’s bed. “This is all my goddamn fault. Dominic made me. The fucker. He made me and I didn’t know it.”
Caine cleared his throat. “That’s how Dominic and Davis got out before the police arrived. They were already leaving before the shit hit the fan at the fight.”
Slider’s brow cranked down, confusion swamping him. “But we didn’t have a tail. We looked. Repeatedly.”
Shaking his head, Caine grimaced. “They didn’t follow us. They wanted to catch us off guard. Davis was drowning in gambling debt to Dominic and had been for years, so when the guy recognized us, Davis bargained to show him where we live. He tried your house, and then Phoenix’s, and then finally Dare’s, figuring we might come back to report.”
“He told you all this?” Slider asked.
“Men say a lot of things when it’s their time to die.” Caine nailed him with a lethal stare. “Including that Dominic was the last of the Iron Cross fuckers to survive.” Slider nodded. At least there was that.
Phoenix hung his head, his shoulders tight with anger. “I’m just so fucking sorry.”
Slider rubbed the back of his neck and blew out an exhausted breath. He wasn’t letting one more person he cared about live with guilt and grief for things that weren’t their fault. So he went to Phoenix and put an arm around his brother’s shoulders, even though he had so very little solace left to give. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. We didn’t know. None of us did. With Dominic in play, if it hadn’t have been tonight, it would’ve been another time. Or it would’ve been Davis instead. Either way, this disaster had our name on it no matter what we did. It was a matter of when, not if.”
Slider believed that, he did, but he didn’t feel remotely okay about it with Cora still fighting for her life. What the hell was taking so long anyway?
Besides the four fucking gunshot wounds.
Sonofabitch.
Caine nodded. “He’s right, Creed. This wasn’t your fault.”
Phoenix scrubbed his hands over his face, not refuting, but not accepting, either.
Slider ground the heels of his hands against his eyes. He felt ancient. What the hell time was it anyway? Not that he’d be able to sleep until he knew Cora was okay. Still, he retrieved his phone from his back pocket to see that it was just after midnight—and that he had a text.
He almost ignored it. Until he saw who it was from.
Cora.
I can’t wait to hold you in my arms and look in your eyes so I can tell you in person how much I love you. Because I do. xo
Fist to his mouth, he was barely able to restrain a sob. “I’m, uh, I’m gonna head out to the waiting room. See who’s there. See if I can find Dare. Need anything?” Slider managed. Both men shook their heads, and Phoenix dropped back into his chair on a troubled sigh.
On the way out, he read Cora’s message again. And again. God, Cora. Pull through this and tell me now. To my face. So I can say it back. But please don’t leave me with this text and nothing else. He forced a deep breath and swallowed down the agony of his fear as he made his way through the maze of the emergency department.