“Fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he breathed, approaching the bed.
Triton was a shadow of his former self.
JJ worked around him, fixing the tubes and wires that were going into the boy’s broken body and bruised face.
His heart fucking broke.
The thinness nor bruises could take away from how beautiful Triton was. The boy lay so still on the bed. Around his neck, the deep red and purple marks made Diesel see suddenly red.
JJ spoke quietly. “He was asking for someone by your name. I take it you know him?”
“Yes.” He lowered down into the chair near the bed.
“He’s passed out again, poor thing. I’m going to have the doctor come check him and see if he wants me to give him a sedative to help him rest.”
“Tell me his injuries.”
“Let me get the doc.”
She left the room, and Diesel reached and slid his fingers beneath the tips of Triton’s slim white fingers sticking out from a cast on his right arm. Someone had broken his wrist. Whoever it was, was a fucking dead man. The boy’s fingers were cold and still.
“It’s not just his wrist.” Doctor Bill Parson came into the room with a chart. “Hey, Diesel. I heard you were here.”
“Hey, Doc. Yeah, someone tried to kidnap him just now. Guess beating him up wasn’t enough.” He squeezed the metal bed railing.
“Are you talking about John Doe?”
“Triton.”
“What?” Bill frowned.
“His name. I can give you his emergency contact information, but his cousin is deployed right now.”
“He told me you were his next of kin and emergency contact, but passed out before I could get his name.”
“Triton Scott.” It surprised him that Triton listed him as next of kin, but he didn’t let it show on his face.
“Is he correct? Are you his next of kin?”
“I am.” There was no way in hell he was letting Triton out of his sight until he contacted Maddox, but first he needed to find out why the hell Triton was here and to do that, he had to stay in this room.
“All right then. Triton sustained recent bruises on his body, around his neck, and a cracked wrist. However, as I’m sure you know, these are nothing compared to the old breaks from previous injuries. He’s been physically abused for years. Most likely as a young boy, as well as throughout the last few months especially.”
Years? That meant someone had used Triton as a punching bag while growing up. His other hand squeezed the metal bedrail.
“I talked to him about it a little bit. I told him we have one of the best psychologists here in the state who specializes and helps trauma patients.”
“Vince, he is one of the best,” Diesel agreed. Vince Van Patton, Diesel had gone to the man his whole life when shit got rough.
“That he is. Your Mr. Scott seemed like he didn’t want any part of it.”
“I’ll talk to him.” He swallowed around a tight throat, wanting to snap and snarl. His eyes stayed glued on Triton’s fair complexion, thick lashes, and full lips. The bruise on his cheek set his teeth grinding, but his hand never stopped its gentle caress of fingers.
“He got away,” Memphis said from the doorway. “I have a partial plate and my officers searching. I’m set to rejoin them. I just stopped by to let you know. Watch your back and his.”
He gazed at Memphis. “I will.”
“Hey, Sheriff,” the Doc said.
“Hey, Bill.”
The doctor frowned. “I’m going to order extra security tonight, but we’re just a small hospital. We don’t normally get this kind of thing.”
“Don’t worry about getting extra for Triton, he’s not staying,” Diesel said roughly.
“What?” Memphis said.
“He doesn’t need to stay overnight, does he?” Diesel asked the doc.
“No, he doesn’t. I was only keeping him because he didn’t have a place to stay. He’s very weak. I thought of taking him home to Carla and giving the boy some TLC.”
He gave the well-meaning doctor a dark look.
“No. Triton has a place with me, and as soon as he’s awake, I’m taking him home. My place is like a fortress.”
“Okay then,” Memphis said to Bill. “I’ll send back an officer in case the guy comes back.”
“Thanks,” the doc replied.
“Don’t let that guy find out where Triton is,” Diesel warned them. He would fucking protect Triton from whoever that fucker was, because he was pretty damned sure it had been Clay.
“We won’t,” the doc agreed. “I’ll have security keep the doors locked tonight.”
Memphis jerked his head at Bill and the two men stepped just outside of the open door.
“You coming to poker night at the end of the month?” Memphis asked Bill.
“Yeah, you?”
“Hell yes, Diesel is bringing potato salad,” Memphis said. Diesel smirked.
“I’m awake,” Triton whispered, but it was enough to gain the three men’s attention.
Doctor Bill and Memphis turned back into the room.
At the sound of the soft whisper, Diesel closed his eyes for a brief moment before he zeroed in on Triton.
The sky blue eyes were red rimmed, and a blood vessel had broken in the eye where the bruise lay on his cheek. They were the same blue he’d remembered, but these eyes were filled with shadows, pain, and fear.
“How are you feeling?” The doctor approached the other side of the bed, and Diesel felt Triton tense.
The doc shined a light in Triton’s eyes and read his vitals.
“Like I got run over. Did Auto try to kidnap me?” Triton struggled to sit up in the bed as fear swept through his eyes.
“Auto?” Diesel clenched his teeth.
“Who’s Auto?” the doc asked, flashing Diesel a worried look.
“Clay’s brother.” The boy tugged the blanket up to cover his mouth so only his eyes and that shock of blond hair were showing.
“You weren’t hit by a truck, but like I told you earlier, you were attacked and need to take it easy,” Doc Bill remarked.
“Okay.” Triton’s lashes lowered, refusing to look at him.
The tentative, hopeful, and sometimes teasing boy he’d left in Texas was gone. Fuck.
“Triton, is it?” Memphis asked quietly, and Triton tentatively nodded. “Can you describe the man who was after you?”
Triton struggled beneath the blankets and tugged out a cell phone. Looking to the screen, he scrolled through it. “This is Auto Martin on the left, the one that attacked me. The one on the right is his brother, Clay Martin.”
Before the sheriff could take the phone, Triton tossed it on the bed to avoid touching anyone.
Memphis lifted the phone and sent the photo to his own.
“Thank you,” the sheriff replied with a nod and gently placed the phone back on the bed. “This will help. I’ve got to get back out there and get this to my men. If you think of anything else that could be helpful, let Diesel know.”
Diesel exchanged a worried look with Memphis before the sheriff left the room. Triton snatched the phone off the bed and cradled it to his chest.
“All right, clear out, gentlemen. I’ll get him dressed so he can be released,” the nurse said, bustling back into the room.
“Diesel!” Triton cried, reaching a hand out when he went to step away. It was the first time the boy had reached for him.
“I’m not going anywhere without you,” he said roughly.
Triton burst into tears, making Diesel want to punch something.
Memphis and his men had combed the surrounding woods where the car had been abandoned, but they’d come up empty in the dark. The sheriff wrapped back around to the hospital and gave him and Triton a ride home.
“We combed the surrounding woods, but only found his abandoned car.”
“It’s too dark and wet out,” Diesel pointed out.
“We’ll hit it again in the morning.”
Carrying Triton into the house, Memphis placed the boy’s stiff body on the bed.
Diesel wanted to growl at the thought of another man handling his boy, but it had been a long day, and his knee was aching. No way in hell would he risk falling with Triton in his arms.
Wait a minute. His boy?
As soon as he was down, Triton scrambled awkwardly away to the far side of the bed. Memphis took several steps back with a worried look.
Diesel reached and lifted the blanket and while Triton didn’t pull away, his body went tense as he slowly climbed beneath the blankets.
Fearful eyes watched them both. It reminded Diesel of a wounded animal. Like the fawn he’d rescued from a trap once. He’d brought it back to his house and made a small place for it in the shed. It had trembled beneath his touch as he nursed it back to health.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” the sheriff murmured on his way out of the room.
After another searching glance at Triton, Diesel followed Memphis to the door.
“Need me in the morning?” he asked Memphis.
“No. Not yet anyway.”
“Let me know when.” Not only skilled in engineering, he was cross trained in weapons and also an expert marksman with a sniper rifle. Right now, he was itching to get Auto into the crosshairs of his sight.
He locked the deadbolt after his friend, set the alarm, and took a deep breath.
Molly stood in the hallway watching him with an eagle eye.
“I know, girl.” He ran his fingers over her head when she pushed into his palm. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
He cautiously approached his guest bedroom and stood in the doorway. Triton looked so small in the queen-sized bed.
The boy’s eyes were closed, lashes laying flush on pale cheeks, the covers pulled up to his chest.
Diesel shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. His jaw clenched tighter as his eyes mapped the bruises and injuries.
What fucking trouble is following you, baby?
Molly trotted to the bed and sniffed at Triton’s left hand. She nosed his fingers and Triton’s light-colored lashes fluttered and then swept upward with confusion and then fear.
“She won’t hurt you.”
“Oh.” The boy swallowed and then let out a soft sigh. Slim fingers traced over Molly’s soft brown head. “What’s her name?”
“Molly,” he said, drawing Triton’s gaze to him before it flitted away.
“She’s beautiful.”
Cedar took the opportunity to enter the room and leap gracefully onto the bed.
“Oh, hello, you,” Triton cooed, and Diesel could see how much the boy relaxed while talking to the animals.
Diesel figured as much. Triton loved cats. “That’s Cedar. You pet him and he’ll never leave you alone.”
“I won’t mind,” Triton said softly.
Diesel felt envious of the beast when Triton’s fingers caressed the cat’s brown fur.
He remembered every stroke and touch from Triton, and god help him, he wanted to feel those hands on him again. But that wasn’t fucking happening. First, because someone had broken the boy’s wrist and secondly, something had happened to Triton that made him fear his own shadow.
Diesel had to get to the bottom of it before he could heal. Without a shadow of a doubt, he was going to help Triton heal and stand on his own two feet if it was the last thing he did.
Triton
“I came here to help you,” he whimpered, laying against the pillow like a wet noodle. He didn’t have the strength to even move.
“Hush.” Diesel’s warm hand brushed the sweaty hair back from his forehead. “Lay still and heal. Then you can help me.”
“You’re walking fine.”
“I’ll still need your help with other things,” Diesel assured him.
“Okay,” his voice wobbled.
Diesel fixed the covers on the bed so he was cocooned in the comforter’s warmth.
“How are you walking around without your crutches?” he wondered drowsily.
“It’s been almost three months. I’m well on the way to healing.”
Triton held Diesel’s gaze for a long moment and then felt his lids slowly blink and then blink again.
“I should go home.”
“No. What you should do is get some sleep.”
“Will you be here when I wake up?” Butterflies swam in his belly. What a stupid question to ask; this was Diesel’s home. It must be the pain meds.
“I’ll be here.”
“Promise.” He needed to hear the words, still not trusting that after all this time, he was sitting in Diesel’s house, laying in a bed in his guest room.
Triton sank further down toward sleep, but before he did, he heard the whispered response.
“I promise.”
Several hours later, he struggled up from the dredges of a nightmare with a whimper caught in his throat. Auto’s ugly face faded, and Triton swallowed as the tears slid from his eyes and into the hair at his temples.
A wet nose nuzzled him, and he reached a hand over to find Molly stretched out next to him.
“Hey, girl,” he whispered. Molly whined and licked his cheek before jumping from the bed.
Cedar also lay next to him and stretched, claws digging into the blankets. He ran his fingers over the cat’s silky fur before it too stood and jumped from the bed and stalked from the room.
Daylight swept through the room through the window across from the bed and rain slipped down the glass surface.
The room felt cozy. He struggled one-handed up in bed and then gasped at the room.
It was like something out of a classic novel with cream checkerboard wallpaper. Antique furniture, a beveled mirror on its own stand, and an armoire in the corner. Plants sat on every available surface, with ivy leaves hanging down and some just springing up from within their decorated clay pots.
The curtains were brown and cream and tied back with a darker brown lace. The fan over his head was made of dark wood and the slats turned in a slow circle; the lights were beveled antique-looking white glass. The floor was finished hardwood with large, round, different colored area rugs.
It was magical, charming.
And he loved it.
“You’re awake.”
Diesel’s deep rumbling voice drew his head around. He jumped, squeaked, and then pulled the blanket up to his nose. Diesel stood larger than life in the doorway.
“Sorry,” Diesel rasped.
“It’s okay.” He slowly lowered the blanket.
“How did you sleep?”
“Good.” He hadn’t slept that good in a long time. Even though he’d woken up in pain several times, it was knowing he was safe that made it bearable. He didn’t mention the nightmare.
“I love it,” he said, gesturing around the room.
Diesel seemed to flush at his words. “Thanks. Need to use the restroom?”
“Yes.” He slipped from the bed and found he was wearing a pair of too big sweatpants and one of Diesel’s t-shirts, miles too big.
“I put those on you. Memphis said you didn’t have luggage.”
His face heated—had Diesel seen his bruises? Mortified, he struggled to say something.
“Memphis?”
“The sheriff.”
“I did have luggage, and a backpack. It was stolen.” All the fear he and Fraser had gone through to get a few of his things and Auto had taken them. Tears stung his eyes.
“I’ll let him know to keep an eye out for it.” Diesel’s voice was gentle.
“What’s that?” He wiped at his eyes and pointed to the plastic bag Diesel held.
“Hold your cast out.”
In a few moments, his cast was covered and a rubber band at his elbow kept the bag in place.
“Now you can take a shower.” Diesel pointed to the open door across the hall. “Use the towels on the rack in there, I have to do laundry anyway.”
“Thank you.” Triton slipped
past Diesel and into the bathroom, shutting the door. He gasped at himself in the mirror.
“Oh my god, you look like shit. No wonder he won’t even look at you.”
His hair stuck in dirty, limp strands to his bruised forehead. His right eye had a broken blood vessel and his cheek was bruised and swollen. Marks littered his body as he slowly pulled his pants and shirt off. He started the water and took a lukewarm and awkward shower.
He rubbed the shampoo into his hair one-handed and ran out of steam, so he stood beneath the water hoping the soap would rinse out.
He was exhausted once he made it back to the room. He dropped the towel on the floor and pulled on the clean t-shirt that Diesel had left draped over the footboard of the bed.
Crawling in, he lay like a limp noodle against the soft pillows and silky sheet while struggling with his tears.
Triton
A noise at the door drew his eyes up.
“How’d that shower feel?”
“Good, thank you.” He cleared his throat.
Diesel carried a brown paper bag and lifted a fold out tray Triton hadn’t even seen tucked next to the bed. The tray was placed on his lap, and Diesel dug out a container filled with soup, rolls with butter, and a spoon.
“I made sure it wasn’t too hot. All I need is for you to burn yourself.”
“Thank you.” He gulped, unable to stop the tears.
“Hey now. None of that.” A line creased through the man’s brow.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry. I just don’t want you to burn yourself.”
That sounded a lot better than the first time Diesel had said it.
“I won’t, I promise, and I can clean up after myself. I can help you. I know I only have one arm, but I can do a lot of things one handed.”
“Stop talking.” Diesel cut off his diarrhea of the mouth.
“Sorry.”
“Quit saying you’re sorry.”
Triton turned his gaze away.
“Now, tell me what happened.”
His gaze snapped back. Oh shit. That was the last thing he wanted to tell Diesel. Words wouldn’t come out. His thoughts got all jumbled.
At his hesitation, Diesel picked up the spoon, dipped up a spoonful of soup, and lifted it to his lips. “Here, eat your soup.”
Bringing It Home (Code Of Honor Book 3) Page 8
