I'd Kill You First: when bad meets bad

Chap. 60

SODA:

I couldn't remember ever being so exhausted as I laid Jonathan down on the back seat of the white Camaro I had just broken into. He had been unconscious since that afternoon, and I was beginning to be so worried for his life I was sick to my stomach. I couldn't lose someone else.

His heavy body was difficult to maneuver as I struggled to fit his long frame into the car. Ending up having to just bend his legs and slam the door shut, I crouched next to him in the floor of the backseat and ripped his shirt down the middle. The blood that had run down his stomach was dark and dry, flaking off a bit. However, it was the blood around the wound, the thick, gooey red liquid, that had me the most worried. Being the first time I could be still enough to think in several hours, I leaned my head back against the seat behind me and took in deep breaths.

I had to get the bullet out of Jonathan soon, meaning right then, but I needed to get us both as far away from this town as possible too. The question was, which should come first? It had taken two hours to ditch our tails after leaving the ice cream shop, and an hour after we found a small alley to rest in, Jonathan passed out. I knew he was close to death, but we would both die anyway if Boss's men caught us.

Sighing, I climbed into the driver's seat and hot wired the engine to life. I would just drive until I felt it was safe, and then I could tend to my partner.

••••

It was the groan in the back of the car that made my zoned out thoughts flash back to reality. I was driving down a highway close to midnight, only the occasional car in sight. Up ahead, off in the woods next to the road, was a small gravel driveway that looked to go pretty deep into the forestry. I looked back at a sweating Jonathan once more before pulling into the driveway and parking the stolen car. It was a really nice car by the way, not a single flaw to it. It made me want to race again.

I was reminded of the time I went racing before Keenon's big fight and freaked him out by being late. That was the night he won, and we almost shared a kiss, and I met his older brother-

I sucked in a breath and held it there, panic washing over me. I hadn't gotten Keenon's brother to Paris! Would Keenon add that to the list of reasons to hate me, or did he even care enough about his awful brother to want him safe?

Another moan from Jonathan had me shaking the thoughts from my head and climbing over the seats, wedging myself between Jonathan's leather seats and the floor.

"Jonathan babe, can you hear me?" I called softly, running a hand through his short yet soft hair. The corner of his mouth twitched, but other than that, he remained silent and motionless.

It was time to remove the bullet.

A searched the car for supplies, pulling eyebrow tweezers and small fabric scissors from the console, and a bottle of expensive alcohol from under the front seat. I also found several baggies of drugs, but I obviously didn't need those as I stuffed them haphazardly into my elastic waistband. Looking down at myself, I realized I was wearing shorts in December and was hit with an extreme feeling of cold all of a sudden. Jonathan's chest was covered in goosebumps, but his skin was hot to the touch and forehead slick with sweat. This wasn't good.

I had come to the conclusion that this car had belonged to a rich girl when I found one of those expensive lap blankets in the back console behind Jonathan. I wrapped it tightly around his waist and stomach to help with the chill, then set about doing the bloody task at hand.

Two hours later, my hands were shaking with fatigue and nerves, fingers bloody. The bullet had been deeper than I had thought, making it all the more difficult for me. Poor Jonathan groaned and hissed and moaned in his state of unconsciousness, and I was glad he hadn't been awake for it. I wanted to drink what was left of the alcohol so badly, but I knew he would need something to numb the pain when he came to, so I slid the bottle into his limp hand and sat back on my heels, letting my eyes drift shut.

The night was still and peaceful outside the car, only the occasional engine roar of a lonely car passing by. The silence was close to driving me mad, giving me time to remember things, to think and mourn and miss. I couldn't help but see Keenon's lovely eyes in the blackness of my eyelids. I couldn't help but wonder where my brothers were, or what had become of Matt in my absence. Had all my new friends forgotten me by now? Were  Lacy and Lance still together? Did Lacy cry when she heard of Toby's death? Did she even know she would never see me again? Were any of them wondering where all of us had gone? Matt, Keenon, Brody, Toby, and me. All gone. I had so much to lose still, so much to worry about, and it made my head pound.

Looking down at Jonathan, at the gaping hole in his chest, I wondered where his family was. Did he have people that missed him? Who would cry over him if he died right here in the backseat of a stolen car with a trained killer at his side? Did he have loved ones to care for? He didn't seem to worry about much of anything.

"Love?"

My head snapped up at the croak of a sound, my eyes scanning over his body. Was he awake?

His eyes suddenly opened and stared at the gray car ceiling, chest almost heaving with breaths that seemed to cause him pain.
"S-Soda?"

"Right here," I said softly, watching his shaking hand blindly grope around until I let it find mine, his fingers intertwining with mine in a painfully tight squeeze. "I'm here."

He smiled a bit and tried to clear his throat, but it ended in violent coughs that made his eyes water and teeth grit at the amount of pain he was surely feeling. The fist around the bottle closed, his eyes trailing down to the item in his hand before he yanked it up to his lips and dumped half its contents down his throat. I let him do it, knowing he would need the numbing fire to keep him sane while he healed.

"Is it out?" he wheezed, squeezing my hand even tighter.

I looked at the hole in his chest and nodded. "It's out."

He looked slightly relieved, maybe glad he hadn't been awake for it, and relaxed himself a little more. "Where are we?"

I peaked out the window for any signs, but all I saw were trees. "I honestly don't know," I said a little hesitantly. "I just know we are far from Boss."

"I'm okay with that at the moment," he said with an almost grin, but the expression died on his lips.

"I need to find a decent street doctor to stitch you up. I don't have a needle, so I can't. There's a city about an hour from here if my GPS is right, and I can find someone there." I offered him a slight smile before climbing back over the seats and starting the car again.

"Nice car," he said after I pulled back onto the hallway. "Points for having good taste in stolen cars."

I glanced back at him, knowing his sense of humor was too strong for him to not crack jokes, but his face was tightened up into a grimace as he spoke. It hurt me knowing he was suffering so much. There was still a high chance he wouldn't make it, and that scared me.

"Just hold on," I murmured, speeding up. "Hold on."