Hit List (Stone Barrington #53)(48)

“Who gives a shit?” Dino said. “We’re going to take him.”

“Okay, ready?”

“I’m ready, and whatever you do, don’t move to your right or I’ll shoot you.”

“I’ll try and remember that,” Stone said. He stood up, and made a motion of brushing crumbs off his jacket, then he turned took two steps toward the man’s table, sliding to his left. He held up his badge. “Freeze,” he said. “You’re under arrest.” He began reaching under his jacket for his gun.

“Freeze!” Dino shouted from behind him.

Stone had his hand on the butt of his pistol and was tugging on it to free it from the shoulder holster. Whitewall Guy, as Stone had begun to think of him, stood up, grabbed his dessert plate and swung it at Stone’s head, making solid, pain-inducing contact.

“I said freeze!” Dino shouted again, then fired a single shot.

That also seemed to have no effect on Whitewall Guy, except to motivate him. He swept his table aside, onto Stone, who was trying to get up, then lowered his head and ran at Dino, who fired again.

Stone finally got to his feet and turned to find Dino had disappeared. Whitewall Guy ran through the restaurant and leapt over the low wall that surrounded the patio out front, then ran to his right, disappearing.

Stone realized he was bleeding from his right temple. He picked up a fresh napkin from an unoccupied table and held it to his head.

“Will you give me a hand, please?”

Stone looked down and found Dino on his back, then offered him a hand. As he got to his feet they could hear rubber burning on the pavement outside.

“Damn,” Dino said, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. That guy ought to be a running back for somebody. I think I hit him twice, though.”

Stone turned and looked at the wall behind when the table had sat and saw two bullet holes—one dead center through a painting, the other through the wall next to it. “I don’t think you hit him,” he said.

“Sit down and stay here,” Dino said, then ran out of the restaurant. Stone disregarded his order and followed him, staggering a little.

As he reached the patio, Dino appeared from his right. “Nobody saw the car,” he said, then he reached out and caught Stone under his armpits. “I told you to sit down,” he said.

Stone sat.



* * *



—

He came to in an ambulance. “You passed out,” Dino said helpfully. “Just lie still.”

Stone lay still and passed out again.



* * *



—

Just take it easy,” a young man in OR green scrubs said, hovering over him. “We’re waiting for the on-duty plastic surgeon.”

“I didn’t come here for plastic surgery,” Stone muttered, trying to sit up.

“Your friend insisted on the plastic surgeon. If you don’t just lie still, you’re going to keep passing out. You’ve got a concussion. Do you know what you were hit with?”

“A dinner plate,” Dino said from behind him.

“That would explain the carrot cake on your forehead,” the doctor said.

A young woman entered the room, also in scrubs. “Okay, where’s my patient?”

“That would be him,” Dino said, apparently pointing.

She examined Stone quickly. “You did the right thing calling me,” she said. “That would make a messy scar. I need lidocaine and a syringe,” she said to the other doctor, “and a surgical kit.” He went away and came back with the items on a tray. She filled the syringe and jabbed Stone’s forehead in several places. “It will stop hurting in a moment.”

In a moment, it stopped hurting. “Much better,” he said.

“All right,” she replied, “your job is to remain perfectly still for the next hour, while I make about thirty tiny sutures, so turn to your left a little and get comfortable.”

Stone turned his body to the left, and the other doctor tucked a pillow under him to hold him in place.

“I need another pillow under my head, if I’m going to lie still,” Stone said, and another, smaller pillow was found.

The surgeon scrubbed up, pulled on some latex gloves, and opened a sealed kit of instruments. “Here we go.”

She bent over him and poked him several times. “Any pain?”

“No.” Stone realized that he had a nice view of her cleavage and reflected that the sight of breasts was good for morale.



* * *



—

Stone woke in a hospital bed with sunlight filtering through blinds. Dino was asleep in a reclining chair next to the bed.

A nurse carrying a tray came in, shook Dino awake and put the tray in his lap.

“May I have the same, please?” Stone asked.

“Sure. It’s a good sign that you’re hungry.” She left and reappeared with another tray in record time, then adjusted Stone’s bed.

“That lady last night did a good job,” Dino said. “She said most of the repair was under where your hair would usually be, so you won’t have much of a visible scar.”

“Good,” Stone said, starting to eat. “When can we get out of here?”

“The doctor has to see you and discharge you,” Dino said. “How do you feel?”