by BA Tortuga
“Shit, he came to the ranch? He tore out of the hideout today like his ass was on fire, but for once he wasn’t giving full narration.”
“My foreman’s sister. He’s letting her pose as his wife.”
“He’s no threat to me, but a pregnant little girl….”
“I know. I’m putting someone on her security twenty-four seven. Somehow he found out she’s here, but he has no idea there’s anything but my house, I think.”
“Lord. So Snake had to know she was coming here, huh? That’s—fuck, asshole! That hurts!” Xavvy stared at Mason.
“Well, if you’d have wrapped it up when you got it broke, I wouldn’t have to be moving it all around, now would I? Quit yer bitchin’.”
Xavvy half rose. “I oughta—”
“Sit your ass down, soldier.” Mason grabbed Xavvy’s elbow and applied pressure. Xavvy banged back down into his chair.
Okay, that was vaguely wonderful. Xavvy could be a bull moose, so that was impressive. “Nicely done,” Gianni muttered under his breath.
Chris stared at the guy too. “Yeah.”
“Shut up, both of you,” Xavvy grumbled. “I’m in, that’s all that matters.”
“Not all.” Chris’s face was like a thundercloud.
“Look, I didn’t lose a limb.”
“Yet,” Mason said.
Xavvy rolled his eyes.
“You have enough damage from… what is this? IED shrapnel.”
“Yep. That and I took two bullets during a raid on a convoy.” Xavvy waggled his eyebrows. “Wanna see those scars?”
“Of course. I assume they didn’t take both balls?”
Chris chortled, and Xavvy glared. “You’re supposed to be on my side, Sheriff.”
Chris sobered immediately. “I am. Hence me not wanting you to get killed. After Gianni leaves, we’re still going to be here. I want you in one piece.”
“Why? You’re not doing anything with it. Ow!” Xavvy yanked away from Mason. “You’ve put eyes on me. Now let me go.”
“No.” Chris stared the man down. “Sleep here.”
“No.”
“You don’t have a choice. You’ve been arrested. You’re mine.”
“Do we need to leave them alone?” Mason asked.
“Probably. They’d both be more relaxed.”
“You lost your Eye-talian, bud,” Mason drawled.
“Did I?” He put on his best drawl right back. “I can do Texan.”
“I bet you can do anything you set your… mind to, honey.”
Damn. The little man with the bow tie was coming on to him. Any other time, he would have jumped on that. Bonner was still in his bed. He hoped. So now…. “I can. Thanks for coming down. I’d like you to be available to the team.”
“I’m supposed to be your new private physician, just in case the pregnant girl pops or someone gets shot.”
“Well, there you go. You want me to drive you to the ranch?”
“I’m going to stay here. I want to make sure there isn’t any internal bleeding.”
“That bad?” He’d made himself ignore the worst of Xavvy’s bruises. Undercover sucked.
“It could be. You’re pissing blood still?”
“What?” Xavvy’s eyes went wide.
“You can’t fuck with me.”
“Who are you? Who is this guy? Psychics are not allowed, Boyardee.”
“Just a new part of the team.” Note to self, call Tom. This guy was a steal.
“If you’re bleeding still, I need at least a pee sample and some blood tests.” Mason crossed his arms over his chest.
“Boyardee! Make him leave me alone!”
“Nope. You need to be healthy to do this, and you know it.”
Xavvy growled. “Fucking traitor.”
“Yep.” He caused this; he’d fucking fix it.
“Leave it to me. Any other questions, you’d better ask him.” Mason started laying out cups and needles.
“I want you to give him something for the pain,” Chris said.
“I need that pee test first. If his kidneys are compromised, there are certain things I can’t give him.”
“Fair enough. Chris, give the man the bathroom with some privacy.”
“You got it. Come on, dickhead.”
That left him staring at Mason. “You’re a local.”
“Vaguely.”
“I’ll find you a room in the main house.”
“Thanks. I’ll be there in the morning.” Mason nodded and grinned.
Lord. That was a devious smile. “I’ll be pretending to sleep in.”
“I have no doubt.” Mason looked him over. “If you want company….”
“I have some, but the offer is very flattering.” He winked.
“I hate you all,” Xavvy grumbled, coming back to hand Mason a lidded cup in a baggie.
“Yeah, yeah. Suck it up, soldier.” Oh man, compared to Mason, he was a granny.
“Anything else to report, Xavvy? I need to head back soon.”
“I’m trying to get to the big guy. They’ll need to know I’m trustworthy first.”
“What are you doing to earn that besides throwing yourself in front of their fists?” Chris asked. If anything, Chris looked more worried now.
“Sell some drugs, take some. I don’t know. I’ve never done this before, asshole!”
“Well, maybe you ought to coordinate with the one who has!” Chris flung a hand at Gianni.
“Someone has been stashing drugs on the ranch. Stealing. Find out who and turn them in.” Gianni said it flatly.
“To the club?” Chris stared at him. “You’ll get someone killed.”
“A drug runner.” He stared back at Chris. “It’s going to happen when they find out anyway.”
“Gianni. You can’t be serious. You can’t. That’s murder.”
“You want him hooked on dope? Beaten again?”
Chris just stared, but Gianni wasn’t having it. “It’s his best shot. If you get a chance to arrest the guy, great, but I guarantee he’ll die in prison.” This wasn’t a game, as much as they liked to pretend it was. Drugs meant dirty money and dirty money meant death.
Xavvy rolled his eyes. “Don’t involve amateurs, Boyardee.”
“I am not an amateur!” Chris clenched his hands. “I am, however, a law enforcement professional. I uphold the law.”
“Then catch the asshole that’s been leaving heroin on my land!” he roared. This whole day was spinning out of control.
“What? You and your fancy-assed team can’t find them? Shoot them? Just erase them from being?”
Mason suddenly whistled, the sound loud and sharp.
“Easy, y’all.” Mason smiled. “Let’s not everyone get their panties in a twist.”
Gianni stared, his ears ringing. “Ouch.”
“Well, you’re getting too wound up.”
“Gee, thanks, Dad.” Xavvy stuck out his tongue.
“Anytime, baby boy. Anytime at all. Little stick now.”
“Damn you.”
Gianni broke into helpless laughter. The situation brooked nothing less. Chris looked at him, then Mason, then Xavvy, then him again, and then the frown cracked.
Come on, Sheriff.
Shaking his head, Chris grinned a little. “At least give me a crack at arresting the rogue.”
“Deal. Okay, I need to get out of here.”
“I’ll be out in the morning. Tell your team to expect me.” Mason raised a hand.
Gianni was sure they already did. Colt was on top of everything. “Night, y’all. Be careful, Xav.”
“Right. You owe me a beer.”
“And then some.” He hoped they all survived to get to a barbecue and tell “no shit, there I was” stories. “I’ll have a cookout. Soon.”
“Good deal.” Chris walked him to the back door. “He’s taking too many risks.”
“Give him something to live for,” Gianni shot back. “Night, buddy.”
“Nigh
t, asshole.”
He chuckled, trotting to the truck. He was taking his chances being here already. He checked his phone, nothing. Good guys, keeping radio silence.
Maybe he ought to get burgers for everyone. Surely Whataburger was still open.
The blow to the back of his head made the world turn bright white, then black.
Chapter Nineteen
BONNER WOKE up to Gianni’s personal assistant standing next to the bed and screaming.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Sleeping.” Get up. Move. Jeans. He needed to get out, because that woman was scary. Super scary. Like she carried a gun, he thought. She snarled, looking like she would tear out his spleen with her teeth.
“Where’s Mr. Cesare?”
“I don’t know.” He’d been asleep when Gianni left.
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
He held up his hands. “Don’t draw down on me. He had some meeting. Left at like, eleven.” Shit. It was seven. He had to get to work. “He said I could stay. I’m not trespassing.”
“Then where the hell is he?” She looked…panicked.
“I don’t know.” He fumbled into his jeans. “I’ll just go.”
“No?” She grabbed his arm. “Come with me.”
“What? Where?” He grabbed his shirt and buckled up. “Christ, what’s up?”
“We have to find Cesare. Greg! He never came home!” She was dragging him down the stairs.
“What do you mean, never came home? He wasn’t up with the cowboy?”
“No.” She shoved him at the Greg guy. Wasn’t he the driver?
“You didn’t drive him to the meeting?” Bonner asked. He needed coffee to deal with this. Where was the kitchen?
“No. I thought he was with you.”
“He was until late.” Bonner was trying not to snap. “I told her; he said he had a meeting to go to but he would be back. I need a cup of coffee.”
“Maria will get you one. And some breakfast. Where is Luis?” The Greg guy whirled and ran.
“Did he say where he was going?” Alison asked again.
“I already told you guys! He’s a grown-up!” God, had those drugs been Gianni’s? Would someone hurt him over them?
“Damn it, this is serious, cowboy.” Alison marched him to the kitchen, where at least there was food and coffee. Uhn. Patos. There was precious little that a bacon, egg, and potato breakfast taco couldn’t fix.
Greg and Luis burst in a few minutes later, Greg’s face all screwed up like he was sucking lemons. “He went to town. I need to call the sheriff. Be right back.”
“Why is the chauffeur calling the sheriff?” Bonner wondered aloud.
Colt came through a door in the kitchen, face all looking like storm clouds. “We have incoming. What the hell is he still doing here?”
“Gianni left him in bed. He’s gone.” Alison twirled the ring on her left hand.
“Bonner, take breakfast to go.” Colt looked at him, and there wasn’t nothin’ but lizard stare there.
Well damn. “If he’s in trouble, I can help.”
Colt’s lip curled. “You really can’t.”
“Okay.” He didn’t bother to argue. Someone was lying to him. If Colt was a cowboy, he was a monkey, and last time he checked he wasn’t sporting a tail, prehensile or otherwise. He headed straight out the kitchen door, leaving his food behind. He was the foreman, so Colt was out of line, but something else was going on here. Something way beyond his pay grade. He didn’t get it, but he wasn’t supposed to.
Bonner headed to his house and made a beeline to the shower. He needed to wash, get Gianni off him. Then he needed to figure out what the hell to do.
Chapter Twenty
GIANNI WOKE up slowly, his head throbbing, his belly churning. Lord have mercy, had he hit a deer or something?
Okay. Okay, where was he? He tried to lift his hand, the duct tape drawing him up short.
He looked down, only to find he was taped to a chair. Really? Really?
For fuck’s sake. Colt was fired. So was Chris.
He blinked, trying to clear his vision and see his danger areas. Okay. This was the nastiest piece-of-shit trailer on earth. Ew. Stains dotted the walls, the curtains were shreds of what used to be cheap-assed Wallyworld clearance shit, and he didn’t want to think about what was on the carpet.
He rocked back and forth, testing the chair he was in. He was taped to the back, to the legs. What pissed him off most was his mouth was taped shut. He hated that shit. It pulled his hair. Tugged his stubble. Just made him crazy.
The door opened, and a fresh wave of body odor hit him. Oh God. If he puked now, he’d drown in it.
That moron Snake stormed into the room, and Gianni wasn’t sure if he was happy or pissed. Drug lords were more focused; spurned lovers were crazier.
The guy marched right over to him, then ripped the tape off his face. “Fuck!” Jesus, that stung.
“Not a chance. Where is my girl?”
“What girl?” He was going to have to kill this man. That was all there was to it.
“You motherfucker! You have my woman on that ranch?”
“Alison?” He went wide-eyed. “She and Maria are our only women.”
Snake backhanded him. Okay, so that wasn’t fun.
As soon as he got a hand free, he was going to rip the motherfucker’s balls off. He grinned, blood trickling from his split lip.
“Brianna.” Snake drawled out every syllable as if he were stupid.
“Is that a song?” Fuck-a-doodle-do.
“My woman!” Snake hit him again.
“Neanderthal.” He was going to kill this bastard.
“I want her back.”
“Well, maybe you could bathe.” If he could get the idiot to turn over the chair, maybe the slats would break. “Or brush your goddamn teeth.”
The guy actually had the grace to flush. “She left me!”
“Before or after you gave up on hygiene completely?” For God’s sake, this Snake asshole was what? Thirty? Forty? The meth made it hard to tell.
“You motherfucker.” Snake lunged at him, and they went ass over teakettle. The chair cracked.
Perfect. He took the pummeling while he worked one hand free, then slammed the edge of his hand under Snake’s jaw in a single sharp strike.
Boom. Glass jaw. Snake went out like a firefly in a tornado. Fucker. Duct tape was the worst. He hunted his phone. Goddammit. Where did the asshole put it? Gianni gingerly felt in the man’s pockets. No dice. Where? Think.
Think.
Control the perp first. Then deal with your shit.
He found the duct tape. Score. And there was his phone. Ah, disorganized criminals. He taped wrists, ankles, and, to return the favor, mouth. Then he grabbed his cell and turned it on.
Who first? Ali. Ali, then Colt, then Chris.
“Where the fuck are you?”
“I have no idea. A trailer.” He went to peek outside. “Uh. Somewhere.” Nothing looked familiar.
“Colt. I need triangulation on Cesare’s phone. Now.” Ali sighed. “You hurt?”
“Whack on the head. Duct tape burn. And I swear, the smell in here is making my eyes water.” He could use some water.
“Impressive. I have our new team doctor here. By the way, I scared your little cowboy into vapors this morning. He’s nicely hung. Congrats.”
“Thanks.” Fuck. “No killing him or anything. This is that Snake guy.”
“Really? He kidnapped a federal agent? Wow.”
“And hit me. A lot.” He went for pitiful. That might get him ice cream. Or at least tortilla soup.
“Uh-huh. Chris and Xavvy are having a joint meltdown.”
“Well, send someone to get my ass, will you? And they need to run Snake in.”
“We’re looking for you. Just keep talking. Any drugs in there?”
“Probably. He’s a meth head, Ali. No way is he our guy.” He had that from Xavvy as well as per
sonal experience. “Now?”
“Working on it.”
“Damn it, where am I? Greenville or something?”
“Wolfe City. We’ll be there in an hour and a half, give or take.”
“Jesus. Okay. I’ll call Chris.” Christ. The guy had really wanted privacy to work him over. Also, that knock on the noggin had to have been augmented with something chemical. “Why Wolfe City? Seriously? You couldn’t find a more local place to hold me?” He kicked Snake in one ample buttcheek.
Snake jumped, eyes opening. “Boo, motherfucker. Not as helpless as you thought.” Gianni bit off saying more. No monologuing.
Monologuing bad. Just search. Keep an eye out. Breathe.
He grabbed a couple of Kleenexes from a grimy box, because he didn’t have gloves on him. His wallet had been by the phone. Luckily, nothing in there had pointed to his real life.
A text came in: Sheriff C has Hunt co coming
Thank God. They informed or just coming in blind?
Informed. Play along.
That was the best thing, he thought. He would have to get Colt to run anyone they spoke with, but Snake would be none the wiser. Then by the time Snake understood the magnitude of his mistake, he’d be deeply fucked-up and the babies would be gone.
He dragged a kitchen chair over and sat by the front door. He cracked the door for air. This was good, really. Snake arrested for assault, maybe Xavvy could slide into the wildcard slot.
Hopefully it would ease Bonner’s mind too.
That might give them more time together…. Yeah. He was a lucky man. A little tenderized, but lucky.
Gianni grinned. Might as well start filling Colt in via text. Local LEOs were notoriously slow.
Chapter Twenty-One
BONNER DECIDED he couldn’t trust Kody or Harrison as far as he could throw them. The two older wranglers had been here a damn long time, and so had Miss Maria, but everyone—everyone else—was new.
They’d all come in at the same time as Gianni. So, what the ever-loving fuck was going on?
Whatever it was, he was part of it, whether or not he wanted to be. And didn’t that make him feel like ten times a slut and a worse fool?
He headed to the barn, avoiding Bri and carrying a microwave burrito in one hand. The horses he got. He didn’t have to wonder about their motives.
