“Process of elimination,” I said, rolling the idea around in my head, liking it more and more as it took hold in my brain. “Although, I don’t think mass murder is how that process usually starts.”
Bear snickered.
“Dre doesn’t have anyone after her, so this is definitely something related to me,” I said.
“What about that other guy Dre was with when you first met her?” King asked. “The one you didn’t kill.”
“Eric,” I said, hating the way his name sounded out loud. “Before Dre even left the first time I tracked him down, but I was too late. Fucker was already dead.”
“Good,” King said. “So he’s out. Who else?”
Bear cleared his throat. “We finally got a location on the coroner who signed off on your death certificate. There’s no way he wasn’t on Chop’s payroll. Plus, the bitch ran shortly after the news that you were alive started to make the rounds through town. He thought he could hide from us, but he thought wrong. Smoke tagged him in a public housing complex in Fort Romig, just a thirty minute ride down the coast.”
“Close enough to make him a suspect for last night too,” I pointed out.
King sneered and cracked his knuckles. “Motherfucker should have run further.”
I nodded. “He’s on the list.”
“The guy at the funeral home who was covering for Chop, who told us that open casket wasn’t an option because of some shit about an embalming mishap? He’s been taken care of courtesy of Jake Dunn,” King said, toying with a buckle on one of the leather belts wrapped around his forearms.
“Thank fuck for that crazy son of a bitch,” I said, taking a swig of whiskey from the bottle and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
“Who else?” Bear asked. “What about Bo’s mom?”
“Dre is his mom,” I corrected with more bite than I meant to.
“You know what I mean, Prep. His biological mom. The bitch who shot him out her pussy,” Bear amended.
“She’s dead.”
“You?” King asked, asking if I was the one who killed her.
I shook my head. “Nope. Although, it would have been. I gave her enough H to do the job after she signed the adoption papers. The bitch must have had a tolerance like a pre-Iron Man Robert Downey Jr. Anyway, she must have pissed off one of her dealers real good ‘cause the fucker put an ax through her head.”
“Ouch,” Bear said, but the fucker was smiling.
“Yeah, and I thought I had a headache,” I said with a laugh. “Where are we with the hospital staff?”
“The hospital shit’s a fucking mess,” King scoffed. “The staff there signs off on each other’s charts. The doctor who was in charge of the ER at the time died a while back of a stroke. Then we found out that the person who comes out to tell you that your loved one is dead isn’t necessarily the one who handles the case either. They’re understaffed and overworked, so they just get whoever is available to do something. It’s been a fucking disaster to sort through. The paperwork leads you in a circle and back to nowhere fast.”
“One of my guys is banging the head nurse on the night shift,” Bear said. “He’s gonna see what else he might be able to get.”
I lit a cigarette. “The doctor with that pussy ass smile tattoo on his hand. Dr. Reid. There’s no way that fucker’s not involved with Chop. Might be trying to get to Preppy through Dre to cover up all the shit he’s done. He’d have to have balls the size of tires to attempt it, but it’s still a possibility. We’ve been tracking him for months with no luck. He quit the hospital and vanished, but we’ll find him. He’ll surface. They always do,” I said.
“There’s no telling who else there could be involved. That’s what’s been tripping us up.” King lit a joint. “We can’t be sure we get to who all was involved unless we take out the entire hospital staff,” he laughed, passing the joint to Bear.
“Well, if we,” I started, but Bear interrupted before I had the chance to utter a word. “No, Preppy, that’s not a fucking option.”
I sighed. “I know, but you gotta understand that I’ve got this thing hanging over me now. I know this shit will take time, and I know that we’ll make sure anyone responsible for all this shit pays and pays big,” I paused and looked down to my hands. “And another part of me thinks that if there’s any chance that someone inside that place might try and come after Dre again, then I’m calling that psychopath, Rage, and letting her blow that hospital into a million fucking pieces.”
“How about we call that Plan B,” King offered.
“Deal,” I said, rubbing my sore shoulder and cracking my neck.
“You all right, Prep?” King asked. He’d walked away from the accident with only a scratch above his left eye.
“Yeah, but not all of us had fluffy Preppy cushions to land on,” I said. “Who else we got?”
“With Chop, Isaac, and Eli out of the picture, there isn’t much,” King said, exchanging a look with Bear.
“What?” I asked. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Bear cleared his throat. “What about Kevin?”
“What about him?” I clipped.
King shrugged. “We don’t know much about him. Guy shows up and claims he’s your brother.” He took a swig of his beer. “Not saying he’s involved in it, ‘cause just being your brother, if that’s what he is, isn’t enough to give him reason to want to get to you or Dre. But we’re just listing possibilities, right? ‘Cause the kid could be one.”
“What’s his story, anyway?” Bear asked.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Haven’t really talked to him much. Been so wrapped up in Dre leaving and then getting her back home. And then making sure we found Bo and keeping him safe. Haven’t spoken to Kevin more than a few words, and usually, it’s because I’m blowing him off. Last night at the party was the first time I’d seen him in months.” I felt an odd sense of guilt start to creep into my brain. “Guess that conversation is long overdue.”
“How should we handle it then?” King asked.
“Let me deal with Kevin,” I said.
Bear sat up straight. “How? You gonna take him out?”
“No,” I answered.
King and Bear both shot me looks that were part sympathy and part ‘he’s gotta go.’
I looked between my two friends.
“At least not yet.”
CHAPTER THREE
Dre
Brakes squealed growing louder and louder. A high-pitched scraping noise tore through the night. The smell of burning rubber filled the air.
I managed to lift my head just in time to see a speeding truck become airborne and flip over onto the driver’s side with a loud crunch. Metal scraped against the pavement. Orange sparks popped from underneath the truck as it skidded and scraped its way across the pavement.
Directly toward me.
My eyes shot open. I was disoriented when I found myself in the same room where I’d discovered Preppy was alive. Same pink walls. Same Barbie clock on the wall. Of course, I knew now it was Max’s room.
I pulled back the covers, noticing that I was only wearing an oversized button-down shirt and panties.
Why am I here?
I searched my brain for the reason why I was in King and Ray’s daughter's room but kept coming up blank. I attempted to stretch my arms over my head with no such luck. Soreness and aches stopped me before I was even able to lift them past my chest.
The fabric of my shirt brushed up against my thigh, and I hissed in pain. I lifted the hem to see a big bandage covering most of my upper thigh all the way to my butt cheek.
Suddenly, my newfound consciousness was flooded with memories from the night before. The room began to spin. A sour taste in the back of my mouth I couldn’t seem to swallow down.
There was a reason my dream seemed so real.
It wasn’t a dream.
With realization came recognition. The truck. The driver. A weight formed on my chest, crushing me under the p
ossibility that I might have lost him.
Again.
“Nooooooo! Preppy! Noooooooo!” I screamed, feeling my heart breaking bit by bit at just the thought of what could have happened. I jumped to my feet and darted to the door. It opened before I could turn the knob. The most beautiful thing I’d ever seen appeared. The man I thought I’d never see again.
Relief was slow to register. I was still in a state of total panic when I looked Preppy up and down. He was shirtless, cuts and scrapes over his shoulder and left side of his chest. His suspenders were off his shoulders, hanging from his pants on both sides of his thighs. I looked him over from his disheveled hair to his bare feet. His eyes were bloodshot, dark circles sat underneath.
I reached out my hand, half expecting it to go right through him as if he were an apparition. When the warmth of his hand enveloped mine, I closed my eyes tightly and sighed.
“Looking for me, Doc?” Preppy asked. And although his words were said with a small trace of humor, his eyes showed only concern as he looked me over for the third time since he’d opened the door. Preppy wagged his eyebrows then winced. He smoothed a finger over the white butterfly stitch covering a three-inch cut above his right eye.
Relief flooded through me. My knees buckled. Preppy caught me by the shoulders before I could fall, holding me close to his chest. Tears welled up in my eyes, and although I tried, I couldn’t find the right words to express to him what I was feeling. I didn’t know what I was feeling. All I knew was that I never wanted to let go. “Are you okay?” I asked frantically. “Is Bo okay? Where’s Bo?”
Preppy pulled away slightly and tilted my chin up so that my gaze met his amber eyes. “Shhhhh. It’s okay. I’m fine. Bo’s fine. Ray and Thia took all the kids to the beach for the day. Bear’s got a couple of his guys looking out for them just to be safe.” He placed my hand on his bare chest almost as if he was confirming to me that he really was there. Then he mirrored me, placing his own hand on my chest over my shirt. That’s when I realized why Preppy was bare chested. I was wearing his shirt.
Preppy took a step toward me without releasing me so he could push us into the room. He shut the door behind us.
Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t find the words because we stood there silently for several minutes just feeling each other's hearts beating. “How are you feeling?” Preppy finally asked, guiding me back to the bed. I sat down when I felt the backs of my knees hit the mattress. Preppy towered over me, looking me up and down for injuries. “Did...were you hurt? Did anyone hurt you?” he ground out.
“No. Nothing permanent anyway. Nothing is broken that I know of. I’m fine, just a little sore,” I said. “Although this doesn’t feel all that pleasant.” I lifted Preppy’s shirt and peeled the corner off of the bandage on my upper thigh, revealing the gnarly road rash beneath.
“Keep it covered. It’ll heal,” Preppy said, kneeling in front of me. He set his hands on my knees.
“You made it out of the truck,” I said. “You’re alive.”
“You should know by now, Doc, that even death can’t keep a motherfucker down,” Preppy said with a devilish smile. He shrugged. “Besides, King’s monster body just about crushed me, but then we got all flipped around, and I wound up landing on him. I told that fucker to lay off the protein shakes before his size winds up killing someone. It’s a public service, really.”
I smiled, still not able to believe that we’d both came out slightly worse for the wear but alive after a night that could have ended so differently and so much more deadly.
Preppy sighed and played with the hem of the shirt on my knees. “I don’t really want to talk about this shit right now. I want you to rest, but I gotta ask you, Doc. Did you see who it was?”
I shook my head and looked over at the wall, focusing my attentions on the Cinderella clock over the bathroom door, hoping something would come to me that could help.
“How about a car?” he prompted. “A make or a model?”
I shook my head.
“Color?”
I closed my eyes and searched for the answers to his questions, but I came up blank. “I...I was in the trunk. I popped the emergency latch.”
Preppy grimaced but quickly covered it up with a soft smile. “That’s...that’s good, Doc. Quick thinking. Plus, emergency latches were only put in cars starting in the early 2000’s, so that’s something to start with. Anything else?”
I thought some more. “The car stopped when the person driving realized the trunk was open. They started to come for me. I heard them, but your lights must have scared them off. Next thing I know your truck is skidding to a halt a few inches from me and I don’t remember much after that. I don’t even know how I got back here.”
“You passed out. Shock,” Preppy said. “I carried you back.”
“You’re not hurt?” I said, pointing to a cut on his chest that was still seeping blood.
Preppy shook his head. “The only thing that would have hurt me is losing you.”
“Me too,” I said, feeling the tears welling up again. I felt an itch on the back of my neck and went to scratch it, finding some sort of gauze taped to my skin. “What is this?” I asked, scratching over the wrap.
“Don’t,” Preppy said, gently grabbing my wrist, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. “It’s just a cut. You needed a few stitches is all. You don’t wanna rip them out. Stitches suck a lot more when you’re conscious.” He set my hand down on the bed and laced his fingers with mine, and I felt myself relax, my shoulders fell, and my guard came tumbling down.
Preppy stroked my arm as he talked, trailing his fingers up and down my skin. “Thought I lost you.” He laughed, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Again.”
“Nah. Can’t get rid of me that easily,” I said, leaning into his touch. “Who do you think could have done this?” I asked.
“I was about to ask you the same thing. I talked to King and Bear, and the only thing we can come up with is that Bear’s been diving heavily into trying to find out who might have been working with Chop to cover up that I was alive. People in the morgue, coroner's, doctors, nurses. Shit, even the people at the funeral home.”
“So you think it could be someone who thinks Bear’s getting too close to the truth?” I asked.
“Maybe, but it still doesn’t make sense why they’d come for you and not directly for me. The other theory is that it could just be someone who doesn’t like that I’m up and breathing again and wants to get to me through you, although I’m a fairly amazing person so I have no fucking clue who that could be. We’re looking into everyone. Including Kevin.”
“Your brother?” I asked.
“Let’s face it, Doc. He did just kind of come out of nowhere and I still don’t really know what he’s all about. I’m going to spend some more time with him. Find out what his story is,” Preppy said. Preppy’s eyebrows turned inward, creases in his forehead deepened. “Dre look. I’m so fucking sorry...”
“No,” I interrupted him. “You stop that. I could have lost you too. I can’t do that again do you hear me? I can’t.”
Preppy stood and leaned over me until I was forced to lie back onto the mattress, his hands on both sides of the bed. He looked angry when he said, “I’ll never leave you, and you’ll never leave me. Is that understood?”
“It is,” I said.
The air between us grew thick. I reached out and wiped the blood from the scrape on his chest with my finger. The drop was bigger than I’d thought. It ran down into the lines of my palm, painting the flesh of my hand with his blood.
I glanced back up where the blood had now pooled around one of Preppy’s hard nipples. I pressed my thighs together, ignoring the soreness and pain radiating from my legs and focusing instead on the feral way Preppy’s nostrils flared as he glanced at his blood on my hand.
He then followed my gaze to his chest.
My skin flushed, and I suddenly felt light-headed.
A shiver ran down my sp
ine.
I reached out to touch him again but pulled back when I realized I was trembling.
“Shit,” Preppy swore when he noticed the blood pouring out in a slow but steady stream. He looked from the scratch to me. Neither one of us made a move to clean the blood off ourselves or one another, just continued to stare at one another.
My mouth grew dry.
I couldn’t say the same for my panties.
Preppy breathed in deep. A growl erupted from deep within his throat, a sound that made my entire body hum with awareness. He grabbed two fistfuls of my shirt and tore it open, sending buttons
Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part Three Page 2
