Dirty Power by Ashley Bartlett

seventeen and a half million.”
    “Huh?” I’d been up all night. Coherent wasn’t gonna happen. “She only stole fifteen.”
    “So, what? She already had two and a half mill in the bank?” Reese asked.
    “No. Before she stole our money, she had six thousand four hundred eighty-two dollars and fourteen cents,” Breno said.
    Well, now I was extra confused.
    “Joan is very good with her money. She invests well. When she has money to invest, that is,” Breno continued.
    “She made two million in six months?” I asked.
    “More than two million. She also owns this home and two nearby vacation properties that she rents out,” Breno said.
    “And her boat,” Christopher contributed. “And two cars.”
    “So what are you thinking?” I asked Breno.
    “It is up to you guys and Ryan, as I said.” I nodded. He continued. “I suggest that we let her keep her houses as well as the two and a half million. She will be able to live quite well on that.”
    “And she won’t be all pissed off and shit,” I said. It sounded smart. Not me, Breno’s plan.
    “I like it,” Reese said.
    “Agreed.” Christopher.
    “Should we ask Ryan?” Breno asked.
    “I’ll do it.” Reese pushed away from the table and went outside.
    “Cool.” I stood. “I’m going to sleep. Leave Joan where she is.”
    “Wait,” Breno said.
    “What?” I really wanted to sleep. So I might have sounded pissed.
    “You’re bleeding again.” Breno pointed to my arm.
    I looked. He was right. “Fuck.”
    “Sit down.”
    “Shit.” I didn’t sit down. I didn’t move at all.
    Breno stood and led me back to the table. He rolled the sleeve of my T-shirt and peeled the tape off my bandage.
    “You have really done it this time, Cooper.”
    “What?”
    “Over half of your stitches are torn out.” I decided to take his word for it. Looking at my wounds made them hurt more. “Stay here. I need to give you new stitches.”
    “No fuckin’ way.”
    “You need to listen to Breno,” Christopher said.
    “I have plenty of stitches, I don’t need new ones. Thanks. I’m going to bed.” I started to stand, but Breno pushed me back into my seat. I didn’t hear the door open.
    “Hey, get the hell off her.” Ryan crossed to my side.
    “It’s okay,” I told him. “Breno just wants to give me stitches. I’m respectfully declining.”
    “Why?” Ryan asked.
    “’Cause I don’t want a needle shoved repeatedly through my skin.”
    “No, why do you need stitches?”
    “She tore some out.” Breno lifted the bandage away so Ryan could see.
    “Fuck, Coop. Half your stitches are gone. That shit is gross.”
    Breno put the bandage back in place.
    “She tore some in Vegas. The rest, I believe, are from the tussle with Joan. Although I don’t remember this much damage. Did you do anything that would tear them since Vegas?” Breno asked.
    I had. I’d fucked his daughter and lost two stitches. Then, when I climbed into Joan’s house and carried her toddler around, I’d lost a couple more. But I’d just mopped up the blood and ignored it.
    “Maybe when I climbed into the house.”
    “You hid them from me,” Breno said.
    “Not on purpose. I just didn’t want more stitches,” I mumbled.
    “Too bad.” Ryan sat at the table and put his hand on my shoulder. “Go get whatever supplies you need,” he said to Breno. “I’ll keep her here.”
    Breno nodded and disappeared through the doorway.
    “Fuck you,” I said to Ryan.
    “Blow me.”
    Breno came back with a plastic first aid kit. He washed his hands. Spread a piece of gauze on the table. Started laying out instruments. I wasn’t having this. Or maybe I was. Damn. He put on latex gloves. And pulled off a long strip of dental floss.
    “What the fuck are you doing?” I asked.
    “What do you mean?” Breno closed the floss and tossed the small container down.
    “Yeah, what’s with the floss?” Ryan asked.
    “What did you expect me to use? Thread?” Breno asked. Then he and