Doc

by Dahlia West, Caleb

  “It was a good shot,” Hawk replied, watching Caleb assessing the injured man. “Kept her head, played it smart.”

  “Probably saved your ass from getting shot,” Tex teased.

  Hawk frowned. “Let’s not go that far. I had him,” he insisted. “But Izzy beat me to him. There’s no—”

  “Hey!” Jeter shouted. “Do you hear me? Are you listening? You ain’t cops! You ain’t shit. And you have no idea who you’re—”

  Shooter stepped over Jeter, stopped in front of Jace and the man with no name—or wallet, Caleb had discovered. Shooter leaned down toward them. “You know me?” he asked.

  Jace gave him a dirty look before turning his head away.

  “I said,” Shooter repeated, “do you know me?”

  After a second of silence, Jace replied, “Yeah. I know you. Don’t matter,” he said haughtily. “When Preacher finds out—”

  “Who do you think told me where to find you?”

  Jace looked shocked.

  “Bullshit” the nameless man snapped.

  Easy cuffed him in the back of the head. “Hey, who is this guy, anyway?” he asked the others. “Does Izzy get paid extra for a bonus bad guy?”

  “Depends,” Caleb replied, “on whether or not he has warrants on him.”

  The man’s face darkened. Easy grinned. “Oh yeah,” he said. “Look at his face. This here’s a wanted man.”

  “Well, he can add kidnapping and accessory to whatever else he’s got,” Caleb said. “Plus, whatever he did to that little girl.”

  “Do to her? I didn’t do shit to her!”

  “Fuck you,” Jeter spat. “You think you know me? You don’t know shit about shit! You think—”

  The sound of a single gunshot came from inside the cabin. It sounded like a mid-caliber handgun, not Izzy’s shotgun. Caleb broke out into a run. “I thought you cleared the place!” he shouted at Tex who was right behind him.

  “I did!”

  If Tex was certain, then it was true—he had cleared the cabin. Caleb struggled to put the pieces together as he pounded up the stairs of the front porch. Every muscle in his body was tingling. He was on full alert. He grabbed the doorknob and barreled through the entrance.

  “Told you motherfuckers!” Jeter screamed after them. “She’s dead! She’s fucking dead!” Then he laughed.

  Caleb had never had much concern for even the idea of a god, not with all he’d seen in his life. His mother had constantly prayed to a god who had never intervened for them. Caleb had eventually written it off as the last act of the desperate and powerless. But as he tore through the living room and turned into the kitchen headed toward the back bedroom, he realized he was both desperate and powerless.

  “Don’t take her,” he whispered. “Don’t take her from me.” His thumb pulled back the hammer of his .45, in case he was just talking to himself.

  He burst through the half-open door and lifted his weapon. Izzy was slumped with her back against the wall. In her hand was a nine millimeter. On the floor next to her, sobbing and blubbering through a face full of blood, the girl was pressing her hands to her face. It didn’t take much detective work to suss out that the girl had fired on Izzy and Izzy had pistol-whipped her with her own gun. Caleb wasn’t relieved, though. Izzy had her arm pressed across her midsection. She was struggling to breathe.

  Tex moved past Caleb and yanked the girl up off the floor by one arm. As she was being secured, Caleb holstered his gun and rushed across the room just as Izzy was sliding down toward the floor. He put one arm around her waist to steady her. “Baby?” he whispered. “Oh, God, baby. No.”

  “I didn’t see her face,” Izzy replied with her eyes closed.

  “What?” he asked, but he didn’t really care. With his free hand he yanked the Velcro over each of her shoulders and peeled off the bulletproof vest.

  Bulletproof is a common but inaccurate term for body armor. Though vests are manufactured at different tensile strengths, even the highest rated armor is merely bullet resistant, not bulletproof. And they have a failure rate upwards of 20% even if they haven’t been weakened by the temperature changes of various seasons.

  This…was not one of those times.

  Caleb gently lifted her T-shirt over her belly. There was a large impact injury, already purple and spreading. It was low, though, just above the waistband of her jeans. Her ribs might have been spared. “Baby, can you breathe?”

  Izzy squeezed her eyes shut through the pain and nodded. “Yeah,” she told him. “Yes. Did it fail?”

  Caleb shook his head, even though she wasn’t actually looking at him. “No,” he said in relief and drew her close. He wrapped his other arm around her and held her to him tightly. “No. You’re alright. You made it.”

  He helped her outside where she leaned against the railing of the cabin’s front porch. “Fucking bitch got the drop on me,” she growled with one hand pressed to her belly. “That never happens. Motherfucker.”

  Easy frowned at her. “You’re lucky she didn’t clip you in the head,” he told Izzy.

  Izzy flipped him the bird.

  Hawk laughed and Easy broke into a grin.

  Caleb watched as Tex’s Hummer pulled up to the driveway. He parked it, hopped out, and opened the rear cargo door.

  “Okay, boys” Shooter said loudly. “Load it or lose it,” he ordered.

  The men of Burnout stripped off their gear, stowing their vests, weapons, and earpieces into the back of the vehicle. Caleb set Izzy’s shotgun aside as well as the handgun she’d been shot with. He was having a hard time staying focused. His hands were shaking so he kept them busy unloading both weapons and laying them on the porch. The task kept him well occupied, but he kept looking over his shoulder to reassure himself that Izzy was okay.

  With everything stowed, Tex gave the group a playful salute and opened the driver’s side door. He took off down the unpaved road, kicking up dust behind him. Shortly after he left, the faint sound of sirens could be heard in the distance.

  Chapter 32

  The men of Burnout stood in a line in front of their captures as four RCPD squad cars sped up the dirt road.

  “Overkill,” Easy snorted. “Are they giving each one of them a private ride?”

  Shooter smirked. “There’s some possibility that we’re going to be given a ride.”

  “Screw that,” Easy replied. “We’re heroes,” he said sarcastically.

  Shooter’s expression remained dour. “Try explaining that to him.”

  They watched as the lead car shuddered to a stop and Rawlins’ fatty form emerged. Caleb stifled a groan.

  “There goes the neighborhood,” Easy muttered. “You couldn’t have called anyone else?” he asked Caleb.

  “I just phoned it in to the dispatcher,” Shooter told him.

  “Odds are,” Caleb said, “that he heard your name mentioned over the radio call and beat feet right to us.”

  Rawlins slammed the car door and without waiting for the other uniformed officers, stormed up the rutted drive. His eyes swept over the four handcuffed kids sitting on the grass, then his gaze zeroed in on Shooter. “What the hell is this?!” he demanded. His jowls shook as he bellowed.

  Shooter shrugged. “Like I said, we have at least two wanted men. Possibly three. And who knows what her story is, exactly,” he said, nodding to the girl. “But I’m guessing it’ll be pretty much the same once the truth comes out.”

  Rawlins gaped at him, surprise and anger warring on his face. “What—” he sputtered but couldn’t quite find the words he was looking for. “Goddammit!” Except that one.

  “Where’s the ambulance I asked for?” Shooter asked him calmly.

  Rawlins glared at him. “You don’t ask me questions, boy! I ask you the questions! What the fuck is this? Who the fuck are they? And who the fuck do you think you are?”

  Before Shooter could begin to explain, Izzy came down off the porch. She stepped past the line of Rangers and stood between Rawlins and th
e boys. Caleb felt no small hint of pride that she was hurting unbelievably from her impact wound but she wasn’t cowed or showing Rawlins any sign of weakness. Her shoulders were squared and her back was straight, though he imagined it hurt her quite a bit to present herself that way. “I’m Isabelle Boucher,” she told him and the other officers who were falling in behind him. “I’m a Fugitive Apprehension Agent from Denver.”

  Rawlins spit on the ground in front of her. To her credit, Izzy didn’t flinch, but Caleb thought it was pretty disgusting himself.

  “Fucking bounty hunter? What’s a bounty hunter doing in my county?”

  Izzy jerked her thumb behind her. “Jeter Paul, the one who won’t be doing the two-step any time soon, is wanted for kidnapping and the murder of a gas station owner in Colorado. Though I’m fairly certain the kidnapping charge is going to get tossed.”

  Rawlins looked from Izzy, to Shooter, to Caleb and back again. Perhaps he was calculating how many more squad cars he would need to arrest them all. “You know these assholes?” he finally asked Izzy, sweeping his arm to indicate the men behind her.

  Izzy merely shrugged. “They gave me a ride.”

  Rawlins’ eyes narrowed, then he turned to look at Caleb. “You can’t do this!” he shouted. “You’re suspended!”

  “I didn’t ID myself as an officer. I’m just a concerned citizen.”

  Easy snorted at that but otherwise kept his mouth shut.

  “There’s no need to get your panties in a bunch,” Izzy declared, “just because some civilians rounded up a couple of felons for you. Think of it this way, you didn’t even have to break a sweat.”

  Easy actually did laugh at that.

  Rawlins jabbed a meaty finger at her. “Watch yourself, young lady,” he ordered. “You S.O.B.,” he told Caleb with equal parts fury and glee. “You’re finished. Shooting a man in the foot, smashing a girl’s face? You are fucking done in this town!”

  “Actually, that’s my handiwork,” Izzy replied coolly. “I shot Jeter when he charged us and almost shot me. Then I beaned his girlfriend there when she actually did shoot me.”

  “Bullshit!”

  Izzy lifted the hem of her shirt to reveal the nearly black bruise that covered her entire lower abdomen. A few of the officers behind Rawlins murmured in surprise and sympathy. Not even Rawlins could deny the evidence right in front of him.

  “Where are your weapons?” he demanded.

  “That’s my Persuader on the porch,” Izzy said with a jerk of her chin. “Also, Bonnie and Clyde’s nines. Stripped, of course.”

  Rawlins directed two of the officers to the porch to collect the guns.

  “I expect that Mossberg back,” Izzy told him, but the look Rawlins gave her said she’d never see that particular piece again. Izzy sighed heavily. “I really liked that gun,” she muttered.

  “Let me see your ID and your carry license,” Rawlins demanded. Izzy handed them over. Rawlins didn’t even spare them a glance. He tossed them to a third officer standing beside him, then he stepped forward and reached for Izzy. Caleb, who had been content to this point to let Izzy take the lead, now stepped forward, blocking Rawlins.

  “She’s under arrest,” Rawlins told him.

  “You’re not going to touch her,” Caleb replied quietly. Rawlins may have been angry but he had the good sense to take a step back. There was no mistaking the edge of violence in Caleb’s voice.

  “The hell I’m not,” the older man argued. “She’s under arrest,” he repeated. “All of you are under arrest!”

  “Rawlins—” Caleb began but Izzy cut him off.

  “Go fuck yourself,” she snapped. “Jeter Paul is wanted by the Denver PD and the FBI. You can charge us, but you’ll never hold us. In fact, go ahead and haul us in. It’ll make it easier for the feds to find us… so they can hand us our medals.” Rawlins’ face darkened. “Oh, that’s right. When you book these assholes,” she said, pointing to the kids on the lawn, “the feds are going to come swooping in here, tearing up your station. So, Sergeant, just how much of a raging asshole do you want to appear to be when they arrive?”

  Rawlins’ face went from pink to purple and he nearly shook with rage. If he hadn’t been such a raging asshole—as Izzy had put it—Caleb would’ve almost felt sorry for him. Here was the moment that the bastard likely laid awake fantasizing about for years. He finally had nearly all of them standing before him and Rawlins was dead certain they’d committed a crime, numerous crimes probably, maybe even several felonies. The sum total of Rawlins’ most desperate late-night wishes was stretched out before him but the furious, impotent man could do nothing about it.

  Chapter 33

  Caleb felt Izzy next to him before he opened his eyes. He slowly breathed in her scent and moved closer to her. He’d slept off and on all night, waking repeatedly to reassure himself that she was still there, still okay. He wondered how long it would be before he stopped needing to be reassured. Given how deeply the thought of losing her had affected him at the cabin, the sheer terror he’d felt when he’d heard the gunshot, he didn’t think he’d stop worrying any time soon. He listened to the sound of her breathing, grateful every second that she still was.

  “Stop it,” he ordered quietly but firmly even though his eyes were still closed.

  Izzy stirred beside him. “I’m not doing anything,” she insisted.

  “I can hear you replaying it in your head,” he scolded. “Knock it off. You couldn’t have done anything differently, Iz. You didn’t know.”

  Izzy sighed. “She’s just a kid, but still… I should’ve expected it. I should’ve been more careful.”

  He frowned to himself. He understood the sentiment, but it really hadn’t been her fault. After hauling them all into the station, Caleb had gotten word that the girl had confessed to having a relationship with Jeter Paul. Knowing her parents would never approve, they’d kept it a secret for nearly a year. Apparently Romeo and Juliet’s grand plan was to rob the gas station where the girl worked. With their huge score, they’d live happily ever after in South Dakota while their cash earning interest while squirreled away in a mattress or something. Except Jeter wasn’t supposed to shoot the owner. That he’d done on the spur of the moment when the man showed up unexpectedly to retrieve that night’s deposit rather than in the morning as he usually did.

  Izzy had been brooding about that turn of events all evening and into the night. Caleb knew she didn’t care that her reward had been halved now that the girl was no longer an official kidnap victim. Izzy was pissed that an innocent man died because of two selfish-asshole teenagers. Ever since she’d heard that the girl was in on the robbery and not some victim of Stockholm Syndrome, she had been furious.

  “It should’ve been a theory,” she told him. “I dismissed her as a victim too quickly.”

  Caleb took hold of her hand. He’d much rather hold her, but she was still in pain and he didn’t want to hurt her. “Stop beating yourself up,” he advised. “You did everything right. None of us considered it. You’re here. She’s behind bars. Now that man’s family knows the truth. That’s the next best thing to having him back.”

  Izzy squeezed his hand and sighed again.

  “I wish I could just lie here forever,” she said.

  “Me, too.”

  She tilted her head to look at him, surprised.

  Caleb realized that it was time to have the conversation he’d been dreading. Twenty-four hours ago he would have done anything to avoid talking about it, even walk away from her for good, but now he knew he’d never be able to bring himself to leave.

  “Losing you would’ve been losing everything,” he told her. “I avoided it my whole life, held myself back. I never wanted to feel this much for someone. It terrified me. It still does. I keep everyone away, even Shooter and the others. I couldn’t trust myself.”

  “Caleb, all that’s in the past. You—”

  “No,” he said, squeezing her hand to cut her off. “You have to know. Y
ou deserve to know what you’d be signing up for—if you want me.” He took a deep breath. This felt so much like jumping off a cliff. “I see prostitutes,” he confessed. “Just the one, now—Sioux Falls, but there were others when I was in the Army. Others in different countries.”

  He didn’t look at her. He kept his gaze on the ceiling. Any look of disappointment from her would absolutely gut him.

  She surprised him by saying, “I get it. You stay disconnected. So do I. I just don’t have to pay for it. It’s always no strings. And I leave after a few months, even if it’s going okay. I want to be me, but no one can handle me. I didn’t think I’d ever find someone who would get me, get what I do and why I do it. I just figured I’d always be alone.”

  “I understand,” Caleb told her.

  “I think you’re the only one who can.”

  Caleb sat up and turned to look down at her. As uncomfortable as it was to lay himself bare this way, Izzy was a good woman and she deserved it.

  “I don’t know if I can love you,” he told her, because she should hear the whole truth. “I don’t even know if I have that in me. Maybe it got beaten out of me as a kid, or maybe I never had it at all. I might be broken, but goddammit, Izzy. I want to try. I know what losing you would feel like and I don’t know how I’d deal with it but I would never, ever ask you to change. I’d never ask you to be something you’re not. I’m not worth it, Izzy. I may never hit you, but I could still hurt you. But I’m a bastard and I know it because I don’t want to let you go.” He took another deep breath and laid it all on the line. “Say you’ll stay. Say you’ll give me a chance—one chance.”

  Chapter 34

  Izzy could not easily raise herself up so she did the next best thing. She took ahold of Caleb’s hand and pulled him down to her. He hovered above her, bracing himself on the mattress. She cupped his face and brushed his lips with her own. She could simply have said, “Yes,” but that one word didn’t seem like nearly enough. A thousand words might not be enough. As they embraced, she felt for the buttons on the shirt she’d borrowed from him.