“In the bathroom.” Andre guided him to his feet. “He’s fine, Chris. You can sit here and rest, and he’ll come out in a minute. He’s just a little shaken. You’re worse off than he is.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’ll need stitches, and you most likely have a concussion.”
“I’m fine.”
Andre sighed and grabbed his elbow. In small steps, they moved across the living room. Chris tried not to look at the men who had been shooting at Gabe, but he couldn’t help himself. Zachary had them lying on the floor. Their hands were bound with duct tape; one of them had a split lip and the other a bruise forming on his cheekbone. Chris didn’t think he’d been out for more than a few seconds, but he must’ve been if there had been a fight.
“How did you get here?” He hissed as he turned his head to look at Andre.