“Yeah, I had a little incident with the IRA a while back. We Irish tend to have long memories and hard grudges.”
Lance raises an eyebrow, “a little incident?”
Bad Willie eyes him solemnly, “Lad, that’s all you’re getting on that subject. Now, Ciara we need to get you out of here.”
“What! You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Lance’s yell makes me wince as the sound splits through my skull like an ice pick into a glacier. Ignoring Lance and Bad Willie argument I swing my legs to the side of the bed. I grab my pants from beside the bed and groan as I drag them up over my bruise covered legs.
“Ciara, you need to get back in that bed. You’re beat to shit. You have stitches everywhere, bruises all over, broken bones, and a concussion. You can’t be serious.”
I drop the hospital gown and shrug into my tee-shirt. I smirk to myself as they both look the other way. My lip bleeds a fresh line as the almost clotted split breaks again. I lay a hand on Lance’s cheek, “I appreciate it love, I really do. But I can’t stay.” I hold up a hand as he begins another tirade. “If I’m right, there will be more coming. And they won’t care if they take out half a hospital wing to get me. The safest place for everyone is as far away from me as possible. I think you need yourself another bodyguard love. Willie?”
He lays a knife and a Glock in my outstretched palms. I slip the sheathed knife into my boots and the Glock into my back waistband and flip the shirt over it. Bad Willie looks at me, “slow and steady Ghost.”
“That’s all I’m gonna be able to manage right now Willie.” I shake my head, “God I hate past history.”