Draw (Gentry Boys #1)(59)

“Seen ‘em around,” I grumbled, eliciting a harsh glare from Creed. If we started doing some talking about the fighting rings then Chase wouldn’t be the only one laid up in the hospital.

“I see,” said the officer with a flat expression which told me he understood that I wasn’t going to say much.

Doctors also came. We were told Chase had a concussion, most likely from being kicked in the head. His injuries indicated the likelihood of multiple assailants, which I had already figured since my brother was no slouch in a fight. It had to have been an ambush.

The surgeon, Dr. Nguyen, didn’t pull any punches. Chase’s internal injuries had required the removal of his spleen.

“Spleen?” Creed asked. “So that’s no big deal, right? Don’t people get that shit removed all the time?”

Dr. Nguyen spoke softly, kindly. “You are likely thinking of the appendix. The spleen is more significant. Although it is completely possible to live a normal life, its absence may make it more difficult for the body to fight off certain infections.”

“Oh,” Creed slumped. He looked away, blinking rapidly. Saylor reached over and took his hand but if he noticed he gave no sign.

I swallowed. “Can we see him?”

“Soon,” the doctor nodded. “He is in recovery now and from there he will be moved to a room where we would like to keep him through the weekend.” He paused. I thought about what a crappy job this must be, to inform people about terrible things which had happened to the ones they loved. “He is really quite fortunate,” he continued. “The severity of the beating he took could easily have resulted in far worse injuries.”

I guessed what he was hinting at; Chase was lucky to be alive. Saylor thanked the doctor and asked if we could be informed immediately when Chase was ready for visitors. Creed still stared blankly at the wall and I sank back into my chair, pulling Say down with me.

As Saylor’s soft arms surrounded me again, I tried to focus on the feel of her. It was safer to do that than to stay with the seething rise of violence in my heart. Creed had already gone the other way. I could see it in his face. One word from me and he would charge the castle with everything he had. I held on to Saylor, trying to push the vicious shadows away. I wasn’t ready to follow Creedence yet.

Saylor retreated at some point to call Brayden and let him know what had happened. Creed leaned forward and spoke my name.

“Think I’ll give Gabe a call,” he said and I knew why. Creed had already made up his mind that those college boys were the culprits. He had already decided what needed to be done. Gabe Hernandez, the sleazy point man in the world of underground gambling brawls, knew everyone. He would know where to find them.

“Wait,” I answered, watching for Saylor. “Let’s get him whole and get him home and then we can deal with whatever needs to happen next.”

Creed shook his head. With his jaw clenched and his eyes icy he reminded me of someone far more frightening. How many times had I seen that same expression on my father just before he tipped over the side and into the madness? Benton was worse though; he liked going in that direction. It was what served him and kept him animated. Whenever I fought in the ring I struggled to control the satisfaction of the hit, the draw of blood. There was always a fear which I never really named but was still aware of. It was the fear that if I liked it too much then it would put me in the hole with generations of Gentrys. And then I wouldn’t be able to climb out again.

“I’m not waiting long, Cordero,” growled Creed. He meant he would go without me.

“We don’t even know for damn sure who did it,” I reminded him.

Creed glared at me and balled his fists. “I know,” he answered. “And you f*cking know so don’t pull that shit with me.”

Saylor walked quietly back into the room and I straightened, choosing not to answer Creed for the moment. Say took my hand and sat down.

“Bray and Millie want to know if there’s anything they can do. I told them I didn’t think so but they want you guys to know they’re available for whatever you need.”

“I only need one thing,” Creed said quietly, his eyes still squarely on me.

Saylor glanced at him uneasily. She seemed on the verge of saying something but then a nurse came into the room and called for the family of Chasyn Gentry.

Creed walked ahead of us and I could read the coiled rage in every step he took. He kept a stony expression in the elevator and didn’t say a word. Say hung back a little when we reached the room. She thought it would be a better idea if I went in without her. Creed was already inside.

Saylor ran her hand over my cheek. “I’ll be right here.”

I’d spent so many hours expecting the dreaded worst that anything short of catastrophe would have been a relief. Chase had a nasty lump on his head and his right cheek had suffered a bad slice which must have bled a lot and was being held together by stitches and tape. His nose was obviously broken and an ugly collection of bruises showed on his face. Creed was kneeling beneath the IV drip and I could tell from his ragged breathing that he was struggling mightily to control himself.

“Hey, little brother,” I said softly as I pulled a metal chair over to his bedside.

Chase opened a blue eye and blinked, trying to focus on me. “Don’t start that shit,” he warned, his voice dry and raspy. “I already get enough from Big C.” He struggled to sit upright and pulled at his hospital gown. “Someone get this f*cking handkerchief off me.”