Collecting the Pieces

by L. A. Fiore

  “You can tell that?” There was that disbelief again.

  There was an exit wound; it didn’t take a genius to deduce what caused it. I didn’t say that to him. “Yeah. How did you reopen it?”

  “That fucking matters why?”

  Why me? As if fate hadn’t done enough to me, now the fickle bitch put me in the path of this cantankerous asshole. An asshole I actually felt a physical response to. The words rolled off my tongue without thought. “A little lower and to the right and no one would be kneeling in front of you again. Pity.”

  Something shifted in the air and it was then that I realized this man was dangerous. There was a note of curiosity in his tone when he said, “You’ve got some spunk. You look like a kindergarten teacher, but you’ve got a spine.”

  I ground my teeth, a retort on my tongue, but there was no point in engaging this asshole in a sparring of words. Instead I said, “You’re lucky. It’s a clean shot, missed the major stuff. It must hurt like a bitch though, right through the muscles. You need a hospital. It should be cleaned and restitched.”

  “No hospital.”

  I did look at him then. His expression changed into something sinister. “And no cops.”

  It registered then that this man was likely a criminal and here I stood in what could be described as a secluded alley staring at his gunshot wound. How the hell had I ended up here? I just wanted groceries, and yet when I spoke, instead of making my leave I said, “Fine. No cops, but you need to be restitched. The clinic isn’t far, but I suspect Doc will insist on calling the cops.”

  “Doc Cassidy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re the one taking over the clinic?”

  I wish I hadn’t shared that. But I didn’t beat myself up for long because why was it such a surprise to him that I was taking over the clinic? I was done; he’d live. I didn’t even bother acknowledging him when I turned and walked away.

  “What the fuck?” He bellowed at me. At me!

  I stopped and looked back at him from over my shoulder. I had the feeling, in general, that people didn’t walk away from him and I could admit fear skirted down my spine at the scowl on his face. And even still, the next words just tumbled out. “I understand why you were shot. I’ve been in your company for less than ten minutes and I’d like to shoot you. Get it cleaned and restitched or don’t. Either way, you’ll live.”

  “You’re a doctor. What about the Hippocratic oath? To tend the ill to the best of your abilities?”

  “Like you so eloquently pointed out, I’m just a vet.”

  He laughed, the smug ass actually laughed. “What’s your name?”

  There was no way I was giving him that information. He could figure it out since I had let it slip about the clinic, but he wouldn’t be getting the information from me. “I’d rather it remain a mystery, one that stays unsolved.”

  I moved away from him again, but I heard his parting words because he shouted them at me. “I love mysteries.”

  Tempting, really fucking tempting to chase down the doc, though there was an equal chance I’d wring her neck as there was I’d kiss her. There was no denying that the few times I’d seen her in town she’d gained my attention because she was fucking hot as hell, but she could throw out attitude while looking like a prim librarian and that combination was a real fucking turn on.

  My side was burning. Jesus, what the hell was I thinking? I knew better than to ride when I was still healing, but I ached for the road and the wind in my face. A part of me wanted to keep on riding, right back to Cheyenne, but I was needed here. She needed me. The sound of pipes echoed down the alley a few seconds before Tiny appeared, all six foot eight of him. Thank Christ.

  He pulled up next to me as his stupid face split into a grin. “Told you not to ride.”

  “Fuck you.”

  His expression changed into his usual scowl. “How’s she doing?”

  “About the same.”

  “She needs professional help.”

  “You think if I could get her in somewhere I wouldn’t? Fuck, man, I’ve had to put everything on hold to do this shit. But I made a promise.”

  “It’s a fucking stupid promise. She made her choice, the wrong one. Something she’s been doing for a long time.”

  Even I felt the phantom pain in my one-time beating heart. “Do you remember her as a kid? So fucking sweet.”

  Tiny’s ugly mug looked even uglier when he frowned. “Yeah, she was a good kid. She ain’t been that kid in a long time.”

  He wasn’t wrong about that. Fucking drugs and alcohol didn’t just destroy the user, but everyone within reaching distance. Carly was one of the gang and even if our lives took us in different directions, even if our bonds were stretched thin, we still looked out for each other. That was the promise we had all made.

  “How's Pipes?” Pipes was my and Tiny’s custom motorcycle shop that we’d opened a decade ago. We were one of the top custom shops on the west coast now. Growing too fast in my opinion. I wanted to slow it down, take fewer clients and focus on the work. Biased, because I hated the paperwork and expansion meant more paperwork. Luckily for me, Tiny loved all that shit.

  “It’s good. We’ve a few new custom orders. D.J. has come up with some sweet ideas. The team can handle it for now, but you may want to make an appearance.”

  “Yeah, when this heals I will.”

  “You know it’s a bit fucked up that you’re caring for the same person who shot you.”

  “She was high. I can’t hold it against her when her judgment was seriously impaired.”

  “I think your judgment is seriously impaired, but I get it. I respect what you’re doing.”

  It meant a lot coming from him. He grew up with shit, abused, kicked out of his house and yet he landed on his feet. And for all the shit he was giving me about this, he’d do the same. Shit, he’d done it for me. Gave me a place to stay when I’d been kicked out of my house. My dad was a serious piece of work, a con man. Used me in his cons when I was younger until I got wise to what he was doing then he had no use for me. It didn’t keep him away though, fucker popped up from time to time when his cash was low looking to play me. He had nothing on me so he couldn’t force me to help him like he did with so many others. Last I heard he was on the east coast. He’d come back though, he always did.

  Tiny knew how I felt about what he’d done for me, so instead I asked, “We going to hug now?”

  “You’re a fucking dick.”

  I flashed him my shit-eating smile. “Yeah, I am. Speaking of which, I just met the new doc taking over for Cassidy.”

  “No shit. What’s he like?”

  “She is about thirty, fine body, killer face and brown hair the color of mink, the kind of hair you want on your pillow or running down your chest. And the bitch gave as good as she got.”

  “And did you charm her?”

  “No. She wouldn’t give me her name, told me she’d rather that stay an unsolved mystery.”

  Tiny threw his massive bald head back and howled with laughter. “I like her already.”

  I knew the fucker would, my own mouth splitting into a grin. “Now who’s the dick?”

  “Where do you think you learned it?”

  Returning to the house, Carly was lying on the sofa watching television. Her one-time blond hair was dark and brittle. Her complexion was shit and she was about forty pounds soaking wet. And even though she was killing herself slowly, she’d get high or drunk in a heartbeat. It was a losing battle, only a matter of time before her body cried uncle. But when I looked at her I didn’t see what she’d become, I saw the sweet-faced kid she’d been.

  She spared me a look, took in Tiny, before her focus shifted back to the television. “I’m hungry.”

  “There’s food in the refrigerator.”

  She tried to pout, something she had perfected at the age of eleven, but her yellow teeth and cheekbones so pronounced you could cut yourself on them ruined the effect. “Can’t you
make me something?”

  “No. You’re supposed to be learning to be self-sufficient. I’m paying rent on this place and I’m keeping you stocked with food. Your friends are coming around the clock to help you get your feet back under you, but if you keep fucking around I’m going to wipe my hands of all this shit.”

  I knew what came next and had it been feigned I’d be out the door, but it wasn’t. Underneath the addict existed a terrified little girl. “I’ll be alone.”

  “You aren’t alone, you never have been, so stop fucking around. Pull your shit together or I’m having you committed against your will.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “The fuck I wouldn’t. You think I’m going to watch you slowly kill yourself? You shot me last week. Sneaking out, heading into town to get your hands on anything that would make you feel good. It’s just like you to find the shit dealer who cut your shit with worse shit and when I came for my shift babysitting you, you fucking shot me. You’re lucky I didn’t press charges.”

  “I apologized for that.”

  “I have a fucking hole in my abdomen. Your sorry doesn’t mean shit.”

  And then the tears came. They always came and this was why I stayed. Because this was Carly, one of the few people I considered a friend, and she was hurting. She needed help and though Jayce, Duncan, Garrett and Marnie all chipped in time to give her that help, we weren’t professionals and it was growing more and more clear that Carly needed a fucking professional.

  I dropped Rylee at the clinic and took her car to visit one of the other horse farms that Doc Cassidy had as clients. He had offered to come with me but at the end of the summer I would be solely responsible for these farms, so I declined his very tempting offer. I needed to do this on my own, needed to get comfortable with my clients without the crutch that was Doc Cassidy. I wished Jake could see me, see how far I’d come and how close to the dream Rylee and I were. He’d been our loudest cheerleader, wanted to be our first client when we opened our own practice. I missed him.

  Pulling up the drive, I immediately saw how different McNealy’s farm was to Jayce’s place. The Hellars’ farm was a well-oiled machine. Every building and every acre of land was perfectly maintained. McNealy’s farm seemed to be struggling. The main farmhouse was in desperate need of a paint job. The fences were down in spots and the field was untended. I was happy to see that the horses I saw grazing looked healthy. Their coats were shiny and they didn’t appear malnourished. Whatever struggles the farm battled, at least the horses didn’t seem to feel it.

  An older man, in his sixties, greeted me as I climbed from the car. And by greeting, he glared and asked in a voice clearly altered from years of smoking. “Who are you and what the hell do you want?”

  Lovely.

  “I’m Sidney Stephens. I’m taking over Doc Cassidy’s practice.”

  “Ah, the girl from the east coast.”

  “Yes.”

  “I guess you want to see the horses.”

  I hadn’t just popped over. I had called and made an appointment with his wife, but since we’d have years of business together I put on my diplomatic hat. “If now is a good time for you, yes, I’d like to get familiar with your horses.”

  “Never any time for nothing, but being as you’re here. Come on.”

  He led me to the barn, one that had seen better days as he radioed for the groom to bring the grazing horses in; the stalls had all recently been mucked out, fresh water glistened in the wooden troughs and buckets of oats hung from the doors.

  “It’s feeding time.”

  Having reviewed the file, I knew the McNealy’s had twelve horses. All used for trail rides.

  “The names are on the door. You need me?”

  “No, but I’ll come find you if I have questions.”

  “Yeah.” But he was already halfway out the door.

  Reviewing the file, the horses grazed in the pasture for part of the day as I had seen when I arrived. I wanted to get a better look at the kind of grass they were eating. Each received a small ration of grain twice a day. Their feeding schedule looked good based on how active they were.

  I took time with each of the horses; most were female and named after flowers. I checked their legs and hoofs; listened to their gastrointestinal tract, checked their eyes, teeth and gums. Felt for lumps and bumps, checked their hips. They looked good, healthy and strong. After the examinations, I walked outside to check out where they grazed. The grass was overgrown, but it was green and lush. Some of the fences were in dire need of repair. The horses could get out, but more disturbing other predators could get in.

  Mr. McNealy approached. “You done?”

  “Yes, but I wondered about the fences. Aren’t you concerned about predators getting in?”

  “It’s on my list. It’s only two others and me. We’ll get to it.”

  He should push that up on his list, but I wasn’t about to alienate the man. “Your horses look great. I’ll update their files. If you need me, here’s my cell.”

  He took my card and studied it a minute. “I’m glad Doc Cassidy picked a good replacement.”

  And with those words, he walked away and I couldn’t help but grin. For a miserly man, I had just been given a compliment.

  The roads leading back to town were terrible with potholes large enough to consume a small car. As I navigated around a hole the size of a hubcap, I ran right into another. The tire immediately went flat.

  “Shit.”

  Inspecting the tire, there was no saving it. I went to the trunk for the jack, wrench and spare; Jake had insisted I learn how to change a tire and being out in the middle of nowhere, I was really grateful for the lesson. Getting the car up on the jack wasn’t a problem, but removing the lug nuts was another matter. Who the hell put these on? I struggled, but managed to get two of the four off before I lost my hold on the wrench as my arm slipped and sliced across something under the tire well sharp enough that blood immediately started pooling from the wound.

  “Damn it.” Rylee had a first aid kit in the trunk and as I worked on unwrapping the gauze, while trying to apply pressure to stop the bleeding, I heard the sound of someone approaching. Glancing around the car, I caught only the sight of a black boot and jean-clad leg.

  “Could you…” I started to ask but was immediately interrupted.

  “What the fuck have you done?”

  My eyes collided with a pair of pale blue ones. Of all the people I could have run into. It was like I was fodder for the gods, entertainment for them as they moved me around their board of life.

  “Give me that.” He took the rag from me and pressed hard on my cut, hard enough that it started to throb.

  “Ouch.” I tried to yank my arm away, his fingers tightened. “It hurts enough without your vise grip.”

  He ignored me. “Why didn’t you call for help?”

  “I was managing just fine before the wrench slipped.”

  “You’ve a gash on your arm deep enough to need stitches. You should have called your fucking husband.”

  If only I could have. “Can you help me wrap it?”

  He grinned, the ass actually grinned at me. “Looks like the tables have turned. You’re the one who needs stitches now.”

  “And I’ll get them, but first I need to fix the car.”

  “I’ll wrap your arm and change your tire.”

  “I can do it.”

  “I’m here. You’re wounded. I’ll fix your fucking car.”

  “Thank you.” Offered reluctantly because despite being a dick and high-handed, he was helping me.

  “What are you doing out here? Are you on the prowl looking for other animals you can dazzle with your bedside manner?”

  I wanted to laugh because he had just called himself an animal. Instead I said, “I see you didn’t bleed out.”

  “No thanks to you.”

  “I was the one to offer aid.”

  “You walked away.”

  “As I recall, you had
some concerns regarding my credentials.”

  “As a doctor, maybe, but as a woman you can kneel in front of me any fucking time.”

  Of all the…where was that wrench?

  He wrapped my arm, was very gentle while doing so, which surprised me. What was an even bigger surprise was the simple fact that while I contemplated rendering him unconscious, I couldn’t deny his touch set me on fire. As soon as he finished, he moved to the tire. It didn’t take him any effort at all to remove the remaining lug nuts. “You didn’t answer me. What are you doing out here?”

  “I was visiting McNealy’s farm. Giving his horses their annual check-up.”

  “McNealy, he’s a piece of work. Good with his animals, people not so much.”

  “He has fences down. I’d hate to think of anything happening to those horses.”

  Pale eyes focused on me. “There are mountain lions around here.”

  My heart raced in response to that. The idea of seeing an actual mountain lion was exciting and at the same time terrifying. It would be a disaster if a mountain lion got onto McNealy’s farm.

  “They usually keep to themselves, but if they’re hungry there’s no telling what they’ll do.”

  And on those dire words he moved around me dropping the jack, wrench and tire into the trunk.

  “You know where the medical clinic is?”

  “Yes.”

  “Get that arm looked at.”

  “I will. Thanks for your help.”

  He said nothing, just stared at me for a minute before he strolled to his bike. As soon as it roared to life, he was gone with only the trail of dust kicked up in his wake remaining. He was rude and arrogant, but he’d also wrapped my arm and fixed my tire so I wasn’t about to complain. My arm hurt like a bitch. I needed stitches and a drink.

  Rylee went to get the car. I had had more than a few drinks so it was a good thing she’d agreed to be designated driver. I rarely drank to the point of wasted, had Connor to thank for that, but my arm hurt like hell and I didn’t want to take the pain meds. They made me feel loopy.