Chapter 18

"It's done. He needs a transfusion, though." Monica straightened up after applying a thick dressing to Petter's wrist, and a small one to the other arm which had barely bled.

"I, um—" I was about to offer my own blood, when Monica produced a blood pack like the ones hospitals had.

"Jesus," Christian muttered.

"He's AB Negative. It's the rarest blood group. It's not like I can tap one of the gang if he ever gets hurt," she explained. "I took it from him a while back and stored it."

"I'm surprised the cops didn't take all this when they raided the house," I said.

"It's not illegal to have medical supplies." Monica rolled her eyes. "I keep scalpels and the blood in a chiller under the floor in the wardrobe normally. Because the blood would be weird, and they might see scalpels as weapons because of who we are."

"You're amazing," I said under my breath. "He said you were. How can you do all this without falling apart?"

"I'm a good actress." She hooked up the bag of blood and attached it to the cannula in Petter's arm. Then she turned around, pulled her arm back, and threw a punch. It connected so hard, I wondered if she'd broken my jaw. I groaned and cupped my face. "You fucking piece of shit! You're who he's been seeing, aren't you? Why else would you be here now, looking like someone you love died?"

"I—" I dropped my hand to my side and shrugged. "I do love him," I said in a small voice.

Christian glanced at me, then looked away.

"I warned him to get rid of the gun," I told Monica. "I told him everything. Majmun killed the cop and the farmer and Sara. But Majmun doesn't do anything without instruction. It was all me, and I am so fucking sorry. I can't take it back. I didn't expect Petter to forgive me for it, but he did. Will he live?"

"He'll live. If you were five minutes later getting to him, he wouldn't have. He's lost a lot of blood. I'd estimate at least three pints from his low blood pressure, and how cold he is. You don't usually lose consciousness until you've lost at least thirty percent of your blood. He could use another pint replacing, but I only have one to give him. He'll be weak for some time." Monica's voice cracked, and she slumped suddenly onto a nearby chair. "Thank God the kids aren't here."

"Where are they?" I asked.

"Ulrik's old house. His parents moved in to take care of their kids now both him and Sara are gone. Per and Oscar have been friends with them since they were babies." She looked up at me. "We're going to have to leave, aren't we?"

"Yes. For now, anyway."

She nodded and sighed. "He wanted to leave all this behind. He wasn't even sure he wanted to be president. He wavered for ages, until the boys pressed him into it. He just wanted a normal life for us, somewhere away from all this shit. The drugs, the wars, everything. We were saving up so we could walk away from it. A couple more deals and we would have had enough." Tears rolled down her face. "Why would he try to take his own life?"

"My mother and uncle found out about us." Not caring what she or Christian thought, I sat down on the edge of the bed and took Petter's hand in mine. He barely seemed alive. He was so pale and cold. "I'm not sure exactly, but I think my mother bribed Petter's lawyer so she would blackmail him into confessing. Before he passed out, he said if he didn't die, his family would. His name will be cleared as soon as the information I'm giving Christian comes out, but we don't have anything on my mother. She could still come after you. She's that evil, once she gets an idea in her head, she won't stop. You'll never be safe here."

"Then we need to leave the country," Monica said.

"I know. I can arrange some new IDs for you. Passports and bank—"

"I have those," she interrupted. "I thought something might happen one day where we would have to run. In our line of business, you never know. We have some money offshore. Not a huge amount, but enough."

"That's good." I nodded.

We were interrupted by a knock on the door. Monica answered and found Adam waiting outside. She gave him the keys to Petter's truck, and he took off a moment later. "We're going to need another vehicle," she said to me. "We can't use mine or yours. We have a van with fake plates. It's at the clubhouse."

"I'll get it. Drive me, Christian."

Monica gave me the van keys, and some more that unlocked the gates to the clubhouse yard, and we set off. I didn't want to leave Petter, but we needed to move quickly. The clubhouse was a five-minute drive away, and as soon as I had the van, I sent Christian to my apartment to collect clothes, including the leathers Petter bought for me, and my passports and other papers.

I let myself into the house when I got back and found that Monica had covered Petter in a heavy blanket and turned the heating up. The blood had been wiped from his face. "Help me change his clothes," she said. "He can't go anywhere covered in blood."

I pushed the blanket off, sat on the edge of the bed, and pulled Petter upright so he rested against my chest. Monica cut his tee shirt off him, then cleaned the blood off his chest and arms. He breathed steadily, soft puffs of air against my neck, but he felt so cold.

The drip had finished, so Monica unhooked it. She produced a fresh tee shirt and threaded the bag of blood through the sleeve before we put the garment on him, followed by a zip-up hoodie. We changed the blood-stained grey sweatpants for a black pair. Monica covered him up with the blanket again, and I put his motorcycle boots on his feet.

Christian returned a few minutes later with the items I'd asked him to get from the apartment. It hadn't occurred to me to be wary of trusting him, and it probably should have, but he at least wanted to help Petter and his family, regardless of what he might think of me. I told him to give my apartment keys and the safe code to Blanka, so she could use my cash and anything else she wanted. He shook my hand and left right afterwards, and I guessed it would be the last time I saw him.

"I need to get the kids. I'll be ten minutes, okay?" Monica said. "Then we can go. The transfusion will be finished by then."

I stayed with Petter, holding his hand and wishing there was something I could do. "Please wake up," I whispered. "You have to be okay."

He didn't move or stir, but just as Monica's car pulled up outside, his eyelashes fluttered. He licked his lips and finally opened his eyes. When they lit on me, they widened in shock.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned, as if he was remembering everything.

"It's okay. Everything's okay. Monica and the kids are safe. We're leaving Stockholm in a few minutes," I said quickly.

"Daddy!" Petter's children rushed into the room, then halted in shock when they saw the empty blood bag suspended above the bed. Monica hurried in.

"Per, Oscar, I told you not to run in here. Your dad's fine, he just cut himself a little, that's all."

"Why is he in bed?" Per asked.

"He's not been sleeping very well. He's tired. Come on, now, we're going on an adventure." She hustled them out of the room.

Petter squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face away.

"It's all right," I said again. "Don't worry about anything."

"Davor?" Monica appeared again. "Will you get one of the mattresses off the bunks in the next room? Put it in the back of the van for Petter. And take these bags." She indicated two large holdalls. "The kids are in the front seat. I'll drive the first part. Where are we going?"

"You need to decide what you want to do as a family," I said. "But we'll go to Oslo for now."

"Right."

I fetched a mattress, put it in the back of the van, and carried the bags out, including the huge one Christian had brought for me. Then Monica took the cannula out of Petter's arm, covered the tiny wound with a sticking plaster, and rolled up the blanket.

We put the fur-lined leather jacket on him, and somehow managed to get him on his feet. With his mostly uninjured arm around my neck, I supported his weight as we shuffled out of the house to the van. Once he was settled on the mattress with the blanket over him, I climbed in too and sat on my bag.

"You'll need this." Monica passed me a torch. Then she slammed the door closed and we were plunged into darkness.