. . clinic,” Qhuinn wheezed.Fuck that, John signed.“No. Clinic.” He might not have much to live for, but that didn’t mean he was in a big hurry to eat a Death Whopper with fries.Blay leaned down, getting eyeball to eyeball with him. “You were in a hit-and-run with a fucking car—”“Not . . . car.”Blay got silent. “What was it?” Qhuinn just held the guy’s eyes and waited for him to figure it out. “Wait . . . it was an honor guard? Lash’s family sent an honor guard after you?”“Not . . . Lash’s . . .”“Yours?”Qhuinn nodded, because the energy it took to move his swollen lips was too much like work.“They aren’t supposed to kill you. . . .”“Duh.”Blay looked at John. “We can’t take him to Havers’s.”Doc Jane, John signed. Then we need Doc Jane.As John took out his phone, Qhuinn was about to shoot down that idea when he felt something flutter against his arm. Blay’s hand was shaking so badly, the guy couldn’t even grab on to anything. Shit, the guy’s whole body was shaking.Qhuinn closed his eyes and reached out for that palm.
