Saul’s network of subcontractors was numerous and far-reaching. If anyone could come up with the name of a competent and ethically flexible physician, it would be him. “That’s a tall order. Let me think a second. Where are you anyway?”
“North. Close to the state line.” My legs were already bent and I used the leverage to try to push myself up. I managed to rise up on one elbow, but the effort had me soaked in sweat. “I don’t know how they keep finding us. It’s been twice now. They come out of nowhere.”
“They haven’t been trailing you?”
“No.” As the arm supporting me began to shake, I felt two hands behind my shoulders bracing and easing me up to a sitting position. Twisting slightly, I leaned back against the seat and gave Lukas a grateful nod.
“The kid’s tagged then,” Saul said brusquely. “Hell, they microchip dogs and cats. It was only a matter of time.”
Tagged. Shit. That was the thought that had slithered away from me when I was stealing our latest car. I’d wanted to avoid anything with a GPS, but here I was hauling around my own walking, talking homing device. “Goddamnit.” And I’d thought my headache couldn’t possibly get any worse. “We’re screwed,” I said bleakly.
“Maybe not. If you can get to a doctor, he might be able to remove the chip as well as fix up your black and blue ass.” I could hear the distant sound of typing. “And I think I have the man for the job. Okay, his name is Lewis Vanderburgh, better known as ‘the Babysitter.’ He lost his license ten years ago and just got out of the joint last February.”
“The Babysitter?”
“Use your imagination,” he ordered curtly over a thick layer of disgust. “Needless to say he wasn’t too popular in the pen. He’s done some research for me, medical crap, and he needs the money. Picked up an expensive drug habit on the inside.”
“He sounds like a real winner.”
“When you can afford to be choosy, we’ll book you into the Mayo Clinic. For now it’s Dr. Degenerate.” He gave me the address. “Keep your eyes open and your back to the wall and you should be okay. He’s a monster, but he’s a weak one.”
Monsters, monsters everywhere. Speaking of which . . . “Saul, I need you to get some information for me.” I was fading, but this was every bit as important as finding a doctor. “Remember the scary son of a bitch from the van? His name is Jericho. I need for you to look up anything you can find about him and genetic research. Anything at all.” I couldn’t be more specific than that because I couldn’t tell him what had been done to my brother. I couldn’t tell anyone about that; not Saul and not my father. Protecting Lukas came first, even if that meant protecting him from the reaction of his own family.
“Jericho? That’s all you got?”
“That’s it,” I confirmed, closing my eyes against the dizzying sway of tall grass bordering the cracked and overgrown parking lot. “I’ll call you back tomorrow and see what you’ve dug up.”
An exasperated growl echoed in my ear. “You’d better not think this is some kind of freebie—you got that?”
I smiled, the barest twitch of my lip. “Never.”
Disconnecting the phone, I let it fall into my lap. I hung for a moment, suspended between consciousness and an endless somersault into the shadows of sleep. A touch on the back of my head brought me around. Opening my eyes, I saw a folded pad of cloth in Lukas’s hand. It had once been a white sock; now it was a makeshift bandage stained beyond repair. It was a practical choice; the material was absorbent if not precisely sterile. Then again, what better place to grow penicillin?
“The bleeding’s almost stopped.” He regarded me gravely. “I should check your bullet wound.”
I watched as he peeled up my sweatshirt with efficient hands meant to heal, not harm. “You did good, Lukas.”
“Michael.” He didn’t look at me as he said it, keeping his eyes on my injured side. I think he knew how painfully sharp the reminder would strike me.
Sharp it was. He had very probably saved my life and at the risk of his own, but that hadn’t changed a thing in his mind. He wasn’t budging on the belief that he wasn’t my brother. I’d come out of an unconscious haze with a lingering illusion that he hadn’t shared. It was hard to let the image go, but I had to suck it up and do it . . . for his sake. “Sorry.” And I was, sorry as hell, but not for calling him Lukas. “Chalk it up to brain damage.”
“Admitting you have a problem is the first step.” He visibly relaxed when he realized I wasn’t going to push him on the issue.