SEEDS
Vincent didn’t die. That old Bastard had nine lives.
The doctors said it was a miracle. Two bullets. One through the shoulder. One grazing his chest. Missing vital organs by millimeters.
Blood loss critical. But he’d survived and now stabilized. Now lying in a hospital bed. Intensive care. he was heavily watched by armed guard. Chen’s people. Federal agents. All alert and watching to make sure he didn’t escape again.
“He’s sedated,” Chen said. Hospital corridor. Day after the shooting. “Won’t be conscious for at least forty-eight hours. And when he wakes up. He’ll be charged. Formally. Multiple counts. Murder. Conspiracy. Escape. Everything.”
“Will it stick?” Dante asked. “His lawyers are good. They’ll try....”
“Let them try.” Chen’s voice was hard. “We have him on attempted ki
