Chapter 4 - APARTMENT 4B
Getting a bleeding, six-foot-two mob boss through the rain and up three flights of stairs without anyone noticing was a miracle I can only attribute to the torrential storm keeping everyone indoors.
I kicked my apartment door shut, locked the deadbolt, and flipped on the lights. The place was barely big enough for a couch and a kitchenette, but right now, it was a fortress. I helped Julian onto the futon, wincing as his blood stained the cheap fabric.
"Theo, go to the bathroom. Under the sink, there's a white box with a red cross. Bring it to me," I ordered. The kid bolted to obey.
I stripped off my soaked apron and turned to Julian. "Coat off. Now."
He glared at me, the ghost of his terrifying authority trying to surface, but pain won out. He let me help him peel the heavy, ruined wool off his shoulders. The bullet had taken a chunk out of his upper left arm—messy, bleeding profusely, but no shattered bone that I could see.
Theo returned with the kit, handing it to me with shaking hands.
"I need to clean this, and it's going to burn," I told Julian, unscrewing a bottle of rubbing alcohol. "Bite down on something."
"Just do it," he grunted.
I poured. He didn't scream, but the veins in his neck bulged, and he gripped the armrest of the futon so hard the wood splintered. Theo watched, his face completely pale, his fist tight around his pocket.
For the next hour, the apartment was silent except for the sound of rain lashing against my window and the tearing of bandages. I stitched the worst of it—a skill I'd learned from patching up line cooks who didn't know how to handle a mandolin slicer—and wrapped it tight.
When I finished, I sat back on my heels, exhausted. Julian leaned his head back against the wall, his chest heaving.
"You are uncommonly calm, Delia," he murmured, his dark eyes fixing on me.
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"I run a diner on the South Side," I shot back, wiping my bloody hands on a towel. "I've seen worse over a dispute about hash browns. Now, you need to tell me what happens next, because my diner is currently full of bullet holes, and I'm pretty sure I can't open for the breakfast rush."
Julian managed a tired, crooked smile. "I will buy you a new diner. Ten diners. But first, I have to take back my city."
