Page 6 of Dark Alleys

The doc smiled at me. “Knife wound?”

I nodded knowing he had to report it, and I flipped open my cred pack.

He had a close look. “Ranger Donovan. Let me take care of your arm.”

“Thank you.”

When I worked in the State of Texas, I was a Texas Ranger, but when I went on a covert op with my brother, I had US Marshal status—just to keep things confusing.

Freezing went in.

Three needles.

Then the stitches.

A lot of them.

The nurse rushed in and bandaged me up much better than I could’ve done it. Nice and snug. The blood was all gone. Except on my clothes.

A sling to keep my arm immobilized, a prescription for pain meds and I was done.

Agency medical card at the front desk took care of the bill and I was on my way home.

I can’t let Aunt Gail see I’m hurt.

Riverside District.

I drove straight home and took two of the pain pills the doctor gave me. Ripped the bloody covers off my bed and piled them on the floor for a trip to the laundromat.

I flopped down on the bare mattress and let out a big moan. Not an ounce of energy left in my bloodless body.

My cell rang and I didn’t want to answer it. Didn’t recognize the number but I pressed the green phone and mumbled, “Donovan.”

“Hey there, blondie, this is Regan Shay. I’m the bartender at Mahaffey’s.” She sounded so much livelier than I felt.

“Hey, Regan. I’m happy you called. Didn’t think you would.”

“I’ve been a bartender long enough to tell the good guys from the bad guys.”

Big effort from me to sound like I was among the living. “You ever make a mistake?”

“One or two times.”

I sat on the side of the bed and lit up a smoke so I wouldn’t sound so close to fuckin’ death. “When’s your next night off?”

“Tonight. That’s why I thought I’d see if you wanted to do dinner.”

“I had dinner intentions, or I wouldn’t have given you my number.”

“A logical thinker. I’m not sure I can deal with one of those.”

She made me laugh and that didn’t happen often.

“Were you in that mess behind my establishment?”

“Sadly, yes.”

“Were you hurt?”