Change of Heart - By S.E. Edwards Page 0,33
don’t know if I’m actually capable of doing that. Victor doesn’t know, either. I look up and meet Rich’s eyes. They’re wide with surprise. I nod.
He reaches over and takes the knife from me. Victor’s arms are sprawled wide on the floor. Even he knows a losing situation when faced with one.
I rise, and step back carefully. Rich looks at me, all of his surprise gone. “We’re going to have to tie him down,” he says. “Check behind the bar. Maybe there are more of those plastic things they used on you.” I’m surprised at the steadiness of his voice. My whole body is shaking—and I hadn’t even been in the fight.
I nod and run to the bar. Halfway there, I hear Rich grunt. I turn back. “What is it?”
To my surprise, I see Rich take the blade away from Victor’s throat. “He’s out cold,” he explains, picking himself up. “The blood loss must have finally got to him.”
I hesitate. “Are you sure?”
“The bastard must have lost four pints of blood, maybe more.” Rich prods at Victor’s shoulder with his foot. “Anybody else would have passed out long ago. The man doesn’t know when to quit. I’ll give him that.”
“Where did you learn to fight like that?” I ask. “The whole time, you were so calm—Oh God, Rich, your leg!”
“What?” He looks at where I’m pointing, and gives a sour grunt. “Oh, that? That’s nothing. A little knick I got from the fight.”
It definitely isn’t “nothing,” and it’s definitely more than “a little knick.” There’s a dark stain on the side of Rich’s left quad. His jeans are cut right in the middle of it. Each time Rich breathes, the stain grows larger.
“Really, Penny, I’ve been hurt worse before.” To prove his point, he takes a step toward me. When his weight shifts to his left leg, his knee suddenly gives out.
I reach his side before he can hit the floor. I catch him by the waist, grunting with the effort of holding him up. “Nothing?” I ask. Looking down, I can see that his white sock is stained red. “Rich, you’re bleeding badly. We need to get you to a hospital!”
“No.” He shakes his head. “Just help me to a chair.” I do, and he settles down heavily. “I need to get some pressure on it to stop the bleeding. Here.” He hands me the knife. For the first time, I notice that the blade is red with Rich’s blood. “Cut me a strip from Victor’s jacket.”
I rush over to the unconscious man and kneel down. Before I start cutting, I look back at Rich. “Are you sure he won’t wake up?”
“You could fire a cannon by his ear and he won’t wake up.” Rich takes his hand away from his wound, and grimaces at what he sees. “Hurry, Penny. I don’t know how long we have until Tam comes back.”
The reminder spurs me into action. I hack off the sleeve, then run over to Rich and help him tie it around his leg. “How is it?”
Rich extends his leg, testing it. He stands up, and takes a cautious step forward. “Not bad.” I know he’s lying by the grimace on his face. “I can still walk, so that’s good.”
“Rich, we should really get you to a hospital—”
He stops me mid-sentence. “No. That’s a terrible idea. We’ll just be sitting ducks for Tam and his cronies to come find us. Besides, I’m just—” His knee buckles again and he lunges forward. I dart to him and put my arm around his waist to hold him up.
“You’re not,” I scold. “You can barely stand. We need to get you proper attention—”
“Penny, look around!” Rich yells. “Do you not remember where we are? Did you forget what just happened? We need to get the hell away from here as fast as we can! Do you think that when Tam comes back he’ll just sit on his fucking hands and wait for Victor to get up? No! He’ll go looking for us. For me. For you. And he’ll find us, unless we’re far, far away.”
I don’t respond. If I open my mouth now, I know I’ll just get yelled at. Given that Rich is probably close to losing the same amount of blood as Victor had, I decide it’s best to avoid a flare-up.
I take a deep breath, and speak very deliberately. “Where to, then?”
“Out. I’m parked on the street. From there, we just drive.”
“Where?”
“Away.”
I help Rich limp to the door. There,