Loaded

by KB Winters

  I smiled at her casual mention of his looks, thinking how much Wheeler would hate that. Then my heart squeezed as another thought came to me. These two women seemed to know him better than I did, and Vivi had only been around a few days. Because that’s how Wheeler wants it. “I appreciate your insight, really I do. But I’m tired of not being enough. I can do that on my own.”

  Vivi let out a snort-laugh that was as out of place as it was funny. “Oh please. You’re a doctor, and you’re pretty, if a little nerdy. You should be too much for most men. When you believe it, they will.”

  Her words resonated with me the longer I sat with them. Between those words and worrying about Peaches, my mind was full. I was grateful to the rest of the women for lavishing attention on Maisie. After dinner she brushed her teeth and put on her pajamas without a fight, but only because Hazel promised to braid her hair. She enjoyed her night, only vaguely aware of the danger the two most important people in her life were in at the moment.

  I worried enough for the both of us, probably enough for every woman in the room. I couldn’t help it. Because I knew the real life damage guns did, fighting did, weapons and war did. I couldn’t help it because I cared about these guys. I might be an outsider, an interloper who pushed her way inside, but I gave damn and not just about Wheeler. About all of them. They were gruff and rough and a little too damn tough, but they were good guys. Nice guys.

  They were—all of them—good men.

  And I hoped they all made it back safe and sound.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Wheeler

  We arrived at Early Healey’s property just after sundown, all of us scattered around the edges so we had views on all angles. Thankfully, Healey’s land was flat and open so even from a quarter mile way, we had eyes on the inside. The place had been abandoned for a while according to the fading paint and dilapidated porch, but I was thankful only three windows had shades; the rest were bare.

  Gunnar crept closer, eager for news off Peaches. “It’s just like Big Mac said,” I told him. “Two figures inside. One armed.”

  “That has to fucking be them,” Gunnar insisted right in my face. “Who the hell else could it be?”

  He was right, of course. “We can’t just go in there guns blazing. This dude has some serious training. What if the place is rigged? Booby trapped?”

  His shoulders fell, and he started to pace. Again. “Fine.”

  “Cruz, we got ears on yet?” Another reason it had taken so damn long to get out of the artillery room was that Vivi and Cruz spent thirty minutes huddled in a corner, talking tech.

  “Thirty seconds,” he responded short and sharp, too focused on the task at hand to give a fuck about niceties. “Okay. Tune to channel seven.”

  Seconds later, the crackle of channel seven gave way to voices. One very familiar, the other not so much. “Just tell me where the flash drive is,” That came from a male voice, deep and nondescript. Farnsworth.

  The next voice was unmistakably Peaches. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What flash drive? Can you describe it?” Even over transmission, Peaches did a shit job at pretending innocence.

  The sound came loud and sharp, flesh against flesh. “Answer me and this can go a lot easier.”

  “Oh, now I know what you’re talking about. Nope, no I don’t.” You could hear the smile in her voice, even when things weren’t looking good for her.

  “A fucking firecracker, like I told you.” Gunnar knew but he needed to hear the words. He flashed a reluctant grin until we heard another slap.

  “I can do this all day Peaches. Can you?”

  She barked a laugh that had as much pain as bravado in it. “I don’t have to do it all day, just until my guys get here.”

  “You could be dead by then.” His voice came out cold, matter of fact, and we all knew it wasn’t a ploy.

  “I could, and if that’s the case, whatever you’re looking for dies with me.” Her logic was impeccable but listening to this, knowing how unstable this guy was, made it difficult.

  “Let’s go inside.” Gunnar was getting antsy but until we knew exactly what Farnsworth was looking for, this shit might never end.

  “One more minute,” I warned. “We have to end this Gunnar.”

  Farnsworth laughed. It sounded low and deep and half-crazed. “Who said it would be over? I might have to kill your whole family until I find what I’m looking for. Gunnar. Maisie. That doctor friend of yours. She’s real cute. Perfectly corruptible.” He smacked his hands together loudly. “All the rest of them until I find what I need.”

  “And you still won’t find it. Tell me what this is about, and maybe I can help you out, Farnsworth.”

  He smacked his lips together. “Oh you really are as smart as everyone says you are. It’s why I wanted you on the Paris job in the first place. It’s why it’ll be such a loss for the Agency.” I didn’t believe the fake sympathy or some other attempt at emotion in his tone.

  The sound of the gun cocking had us all advancing forward, and then a gunshot ripped through the air. Every last one of his stood stock still, holding our breath as we waited for a sign that Peaches was still alive. “You crazy motherfucker are you trying to make me deaf?”

  Collectively, our shoulders relaxed, and we crept forward until we could see the details on the other side of the window.

  “Just tell me what I want to know. Where is that fucking flash drive?”

  “Like I’d tell you even if I knew after that bullshit stunt. Goddamn, that was loud!”

  Farnsworth stood abruptly and knocked over the rickety old chair he’d been sitting on, turning over a side table that had seen better days. “I know you have it. No one else does.”

  Peaches laughed again, and Gunnar and I shared a look, knowing that answer wouldn’t go over well with a guy like Farnsworth.

  “Or maybe, just maybe, they’re very good at hiding secrets.” I could hear the contempt in Peaches’’ voice. “You’re not the only one good at lying. All of you have a very important tell.”

  “Lies!” Farnsworth’s hand landed on her cheek again, the sound deafening in the dark silence. “You know this doesn’t end until I’m satisfied.”

  Cruz snickered in my ear. “Sounds like something you’d say to every woman you ever sexually disappointed.”

  “I’m going in. Now.” Gunnar’s chest heaved and his nostrils flared. I had a second, maybe two, before the Prez went rogue.

  I gave Gunnar a nod, our gazes locked to make sure he didn’t do anything reckless. “Slayer, lights on my signal.” Darkness wouldn’t provide that much cover for a man with Farnsworth’s training, but it would give us enough of a lead to beat this fucker.

  “Waiting on you, pretty boy.”

  “Fucker,” I growled and motioned for each man to move, and Slayer signaled to the man on his other side until we were all advancing on the raggedy-looking cabin.

  “Now, Slayer.”

  A moment later the lights inside went out and we breached from all available entry points. Gunnar went straight to Peaches, using his big body to cover hers as bullets went flying throughout the house. I cleared a path to the front door so Gunnar could get Peaches out, shooting off a couple rounds to disorient Farnsworth.

  “Take her!” Gunnar shouted the words at me and I shook my head. This was his rescue, and he should be the one to get her to safety.

  “This is all you, man.”

  “No, I need to make sure this fucker is gone. For good this time.” He cracked his knuckles and flexed his fingers, stretching his neck muscles in the universal sign for I’m ready to fuck someone up.

  There was no arguing with him, and since Peaches was safe, I had no right to get in the middle of this fight. “I got her.”

  “Not yet you don’t!” Farnsworth took a big swing at Slayer, knocking him down, before aiming his gun at us, releasing two rounds. “You’re mine.”

  I couldn’t say for sure how I knew, only that I had a gut instinct
that this guy wasn’t just unstable, but also reckless.

  “Stay down,” I shouted to Peaches and shoved her out the door, following her until a bullet sliced across my thigh and sent me face first to the ground.

  “Fucker!” I turned and aimed my weapon, getting two bullets off before Slayer and then Gunnar blocked my view.

  “Come on, dummy. You can’t help them if you’re hurt..” Peaches grunted and tried to pull my arm.

  “You think you can pull more than two hundred pounds of muscle, and I’m the dummy?”

  “Just shut up,” she growled and helped me stumble away as blood poured down my leg.

  “You all right? Other than a few smacks, I mean?”

  She beamed a smile up at me. “You worried about me, Wheeler?”

  “We all are.” With a big tree for cover, I dropped down on my ass and leaned against the wide trunk, sucking in air and trying to ignore the pain roaring through my body.

  “Next time I get kidnapped, I’ll remember that.” Her nose wrinkled at the sight of the blood running down my leg. “That doesn’t look so hot.”

  “Have a seat. You look like you’re about to fall over.” Bullets still flew inside, but then, moments later it felt silent.

  Peaches took a seat beside me and patted my leg, using it to propel her body against the tree. “I could use some water. And all the food in the world.”

  “It’s over!” Farnsworth’s voice echoed around the flat land around the Healey Ranch and then two shots rang out, and no one said anything for a long goddamn time.

  “Now it’s over,” I moaned and let my eyes fall closed.

  “Um, what is this?” Her hand slipped at the sound of the gunfire and found my prosthetic leg.

  “Guess you’ve been gone longer than I realized. I have a fake leg. Lost mine in the desert.”

  “Damn. Really?” I nodded and wrapped a strip of fabric around my thigh to stop the bleeding. “How did we not know that?”

  “Didn’t want you to, I guess.” That was the damn truth, but it turned out that hiding it was worse than their reactions could have possibly ben.

  “Annabelle knows.”

  “Hard to hide when you’re fucking.” My voice was gruff and those words unnecessary, but she was the last person I wanted to talk about at the moment. “I don’t want to talk about AB.”

  “AB, huh? Sounds like it’s more than fucking.”

  Yeah it would sound that way to a woman. “Just focus on your own babies, Peaches.”

  “Thanks to you boys, that’s exactly what I plan to do.”

  “Good,” I grunted.

  “That doesn’t mean I won’t find a way to repay you. All of you.” Her words were vague but filled with mischief.

  A sudden commotion interrupted the peace. A ratty old van with different color painted panels came to a dust-kicking start about twenty feet from where Peaches and I sat. Gunnar and Cruz dragged Saint while Slayer took up the rear, the raggedy group heading our way.

  “What the fuck happened?” I asked, wincing with pain.

  Gunnar grinned, his lip split and bloody and one eye starting to bruise. “This shit is over. All the fucking way over. Finally.” His gaze went directly to Peaches and the smile they shared was intimate, too damn intimate. I tried—several times—to stand and put some space between us.

  “You got some lead too?” Saint wore a lopsided smile and clutched his side while Gunnar and Peaches wrapped around each other and kissed like they’d been apart for decades.

  “Yep. Just a flesh wound though.”

  “Same here. I call shotgun on having the Doc fix me up. Your time with her might take…longer.”

  “Asshole,” I grunted while Slayer continued to laugh.

  “Mitch?” I said, not believing my brother stepping out of that van to rescue us. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I’m ambulance transport. Get your bloody ass in the van. You too,” he barked at Slayer. “Anyone else?”

  Gunnar shook his head, eyes never leaving Peaches. “Thanks, Mitch.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  Cruz helped me into the van and slid in after Saint, shaking his head. “Brother you’ve got learn how to dodge bullets, or you’ll look like a voodoo doll.”

  Saint rolled his eyes. “Very funny. And what did you do?”

  “I put one of the two final shots into that motherfucker. I only wish I had more fucking bullets.”

  “Amen, brother.” Mitch slammed his foot on the gas and we took off down the dirt road, leaving the others who weren’t hurt to deal with the bikes and bodies.

  It was time to head back to the ranch.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Annabelle

  “Do you need anything for the pain?” Standing beside Wheeler like nothing was wrong—because nothing was wrong—I summoned all of my medical training and employed deep breathing techniques. He’d been shot. An actual bullet had ripped through his flesh on their mission to rescue Peaches.

  Which they had. Thankfully.

  But still, seeing Wheeler shot had hit me like a ton of bricks. It affected me in ways I couldn’t possibly have anticipated. Which was ridiculous. The man spent years in the Middle East on missions he couldn’t talk about even if he was the emotionally available sort of man to talk about his feelings. With someone. Hell, with anyone.

  He turned to look at me over his shoulder, one dark brow arched in my direction. “You seriously asking me that?”

  Under normal circumstances, I would have agreed that it was a ridiculous question, but these were not normal circumstances. “You’ve been shot, Wheeler.”

  He snorted. “It’s a flesh wound, AB.”

  If he could dismiss his pain so easily, so could I. Mostly. “If the pain worsens double up the ibuprofen.”

  “And if I need something stronger?”

  I knew what he was asking, at least I thought I did. I shrugged as though it didn’t matter. “Then ask your brother. He can write you a prescription.” I finished bandaging his leg, making sure a thick layer of disinfectant covered the wound, trying to touch his bare skin as little as possible. I might be upset with Wheeler, but I wasn’t immune to his appeal. Not yet.

  “That’s cold-blooded, Doc.” He shook his head in my direction, a tiny smile curving his lips into a tease.

  “Sometimes that’s how a girl’s gotta be. You’re good to go.” I took a step back and then another until I could suck in a damn breath without inhaling his scent. It was dirt and sweat and man, mixed with leather and something else. Whatever it was, it was too potent and with my heightened emotions in that moment, I needed distance.

  “So I’m dismissed?”

  “Your wound is bandaged, Wheeler, end of story.” I wasn’t in the mood to fight. “Let me know if you need anything else.” The men had returned to the ranch about an hour ago, a little beat up with a few wounds that I needed to clean and stitch up. Martha stared at us impatiently, waiting for someone to clean up the medical exam room so she could have her kitchen back.

  “I need to talk to you.” His gaze bored into mine, sober and serious. His deep blue eyes were as clear as I’d ever seen them.

  “Not now.” Martha hovered close by, the stove sizzling and bubbling as all kinds of aromas filled the air. She was cooking for the men like they were heroes returning home from the war. I guess they were, in a way, because though the Reckless Bastards returned with just a few injuries, that haunted look in their eyes said they’d done things they’d left the military to avoid.

  “Soon,” he insisted and I gave a short nod of agreement even though I had no plans to have any kind of talk with him.

  “Go put some heat on those muscles but make sure you don’t get the bandages wet,” I reminded him with a small smile, sorry to see another scar marring his gorgeous body.

  “Yes ma’am.” He flashed a boyish smile and gave me a salute before sitting up and sliding off the table. I watched him go until he was out of sight, enjoyi
ng the view of his ass and thighs in well worn denim.

  “I sure wish you two would quit skirting around each other and just make it work already.” Martha grumbled more to herself than to me as she wiped down the table, sending gauze and cotton swabs and tape flying to the floor.

  “Leave it, I got it,” she insisted when I bent to pick up the debris.

  “I’m just trying to help, Martha.”

  “You’ve helped plenty, stitching up those boys without getting the police involved. You’re a good woman, Dr. Keyes.”

  ‘Thank you, Martha. You’re pretty damn good yourself.” Even with the haunted look in her eyes, the look I’d seen on many women who’d lost a child, she defended Gunnar and Maisie, this house, and the club with her every breath. “Are you sure I can’t help?”

  The older woman nodded her gray head in the direction of the doorway that led to the rest of the house, where Peaches hovered nervously. “You can put that one out of her misery. She’s been waiting with the patience of a hungry feline.”

  I laughed and went to Peaches, wrapping her in my arms for the first time since she walked through the door in Gunnar’s arms. I was happy to see her unharmed other than a few bruises and a split lip. “So happy to have you back.”

  She squeezed me so tight I groan before she pulled back with her signature throaty laugh. “It’s so damn good to be back! I didn’t think Maisie would ever let me go.”

  “Did my best to take care of the little rascal and shield her from as much of the danger as I could, but she was pretty worried about you.”

  “Me too,” she said and rubbed her belly. “Told me you took excellent care of her. I even heard something about a tea party.”

  That small gesture reminded me of the parts of her life she kept from me. I didn’t know about their little chat. “It was nice. Do you want me to take care of those,” I asked pointing at the wounds on her face.