Of. A. Bitch. Nico hadn’t expected George to actually stab him. The guy was a blood-thirsty asshole, of that, there was no doubt. Nico was pretty sure there weren’t any vital organs damaged, as Hudson had stabbed him in the same place a few months ago. Cohen had assured him that there was no internal damage that time, and he had to believe that was the case now. He bunched up his shirt and held it to the wound, hoping to stop the bleeding as he looked out the car window and tried to figure out where they were headed. When he got the chance, he would call the Saviors and at that point, he would need a definitive idea of where he was. Seated between two men—each with a gun pointed at him—he was hard pressed for room to move. Certainly, that was how they planned it. If he couldn’t move, he couldn’t beat the ever-living shit out any of them. Glancing at Alaina, who sat at the window to his right in the seat in front of him, he was scared to death for her safety.
