by BA Tortuga
He needed to get the hell out of here. He needed to get back on the road, riding. Doing what he was good at.
He sat in the bottom of the tub and let the lukewarm water pour over him in the dark.
Swallowing hard, he pushed away the sight of that hand in the dog’s mouth. God, that was enough to gag a maggot. Pissed him off more than a little too. This may not be his land, dammit, but it was under his care, and he didn’t appreciate folks messing with it, leaving chunks about.
There had to be more chunks, he’d bet. Please, God, let the others find the rest. No more for him. Bonner looked at his hands, scrubbed and scrubbed today. His fingers were bleeding in places. Did that mean he was getting soft?
Shit, did it mean anything?
Maybe it just meant he was a little freaked-out. A tiny bit. Fingers flexing, he thought about calling Gianni. The man had been… downright nice. Still, he had to think about this. Gianni wasn’t a rancher. Bonner had been given this job because he wasn’t capable of doing it. He was here because he didn’t need to ask questions. God.
He took a deep breath, then slid down under the water as far as he could go. Thinking was damn overrated. Maybe Miz Jerilyn would let Bri stay until she had the babies and Bonner could get back out there. The temptation to leave right now—just go and leave it all behind—was huge. When he broke back up above the water, he knew he couldn’t do that to Bri. Or to Micah, for that matter. They were both here because of him. He could do this. Well, he could do it at least long enough to blackmail Gianni into a glowing recommendation. Then he would go and find himself a life that… made sense. That wasn’t a bunch of little boy dreams.
He pulled his sorry ass out of the tub, wincing when he slipped a little. They already had one dead body on their hands. No sense providing another one. Bonner wrapped a towel around his middle, heading for the bed. God help him, he was tired.
Sad too, but that was his own fault. Gianni Cesare was no more in his league now than he was the first time. Both times he was, at best, a boy toy, some sort of distraction.
He glanced at his phone. Three texts from Gianni. He stretched out under the ceiling fan and looked. No one would know if he looked, right?
The first just said, Hey, give me a call. The second said, Can I call?
The third said, Command center in the barn. House is deserted. Come sleep with me?
He chuckled softly, and then he called. He didn’t know how to not.
“Hey. How’d work go?” Gianni sounded tickled.
“It was work. I did a lot of shit. You?”
“I’ve been nutso. Mason finally sent me up here to rest. I have homemade cookies.”
“Good deal. I took a bath.”
“Did you? I bet you smell good.”
He snorted. “I don’t know. I smell clean.”
“I like soap.” Gianni chuckled. “You’re not coming up, are you?”
“You need your sleep, not me bothering you.” And he knew it. “Were you a cop then too? Back at the beach?”
“I was. I’d just finished a case. I was looking for something. Someone. You were it.” Gianni paused, that slow chuckle coming again. “I thought you were a tiny bit older.”
“Yeah. A touch.” And he’d been an idiot. At least Gianni had been kind, he guessed. Both times he’d been an idiot. “It was something else.”
“It was.” Gianni sighed. “I’m sorry about today. I bet I know who hid those drugs.”
“It wasn’t me.”
“No, dork. The guy with the hand. Or no longer with the hand. Someone was pissed at him for sure.”
“You think?” He started laughing, the sound sharp in his ears. “Was there… more?”
“Not that we’ve found yet, but there’s a lot of ground to cover. Maybe Hank can take the dog out, since it’s his.”
“I can ride out in the morning too.”
“With Hank. I mean it, Bonner. No alone time out in the back forty. Not until we know who’s around and watching.” There was that bossy tone again. It always made him wiggle a little. Bossy Gianni always sounded like sex. Always.
“You don’t have to worry about me. I’m not someone anyone’s hunting.”
“Don’t, Bonner. Please. Just for a few days, huh? Don’t make me come down there.”
“Yes, Mom. I promise to be a good cowboy.” He couldn’t stop his laughter.
“Yeah, yeah. I wish you were here. I really do.”
Bonner almost sat up, but he shook his head. “Why?”
“Because I’m tired of feeling like shit. Because I want you next to me. Because you’re all alone down there and I don’t like it.”
“It’s really dark. I’ve never seen anywhere near as dark.” The stars out here seemed closer than was humanly possible. Could stars be humanly possible? Lord knew folks didn’t have anything to do with them.
“It is. Not many places like this. We don’t get all the lights because of the acreage.”
“Yeah.” He stood up, grabbed a pair of shorts, and headed out to the front porch to stare up at the stars.
“What are you doing? If you say going to take a piss….”
Bonner stopped, tilted his head in confusion. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“I can hear you moving around,” Gianni said. “What are you up to?”
“Came out to look at the stars.”
“Yeah? If you look up at the house, I’m at the window.” He could see Gianni’s bedroom from here? Oh man. He looked up, blinked. What was that? “Gianni.”
What the fuck?
“Behind you.”
Gianni whirled around, and the shadow behind him rushed forward, attacking. The phone crashed to the floor with a loud clatter, but Bonner could hear grunts and flesh striking flesh.
Bonner started running toward the house, heedless of his bare feet. Something hit him, glancing off the back of his head and sending him flying. He felt wet grass against his belly before another blow landed and the dark world went black.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
GIANNI WOKE up on the floor. His head was pounding, so he wondered if maybe he’d had one too many camparis. Then he lifted his head, which made him gag. So did the pool of blood and dead eyes looking right into his. Gianni scrambled backward, his feet hitting the wall. Right, he’d been standing at the window. Christ. His phone. Where was it? Hell, where was Colt?
He growled and slapped around on the floor. What the actual fuck? What was going on?
He found his phone, the call to Bonner still live after… fifty minutes. How long had they talked before? Shit. Where was Bonner?
He hit the Off button. At least the screen was still intact. Okay. He climbed up the wall, then stood there, swaying. Don’t disturb the scene. He looked down at himself. Yeah, right. Him and his boxer briefs were covered in blood. Not his, he thought. Not most of it, anyway. He called Colt first, then Alison, getting nothing. Fuck.
Fuck.
He tried Bonner, even as he leaped from the wall to the bed. He could go around, then hit the door from clean floor. “Come on. Come on!” Someone had to answer. Had to. No answer from Greg either. Goddammit. There was a body slumped at the bottom of the stairs. Colt. “Motherfucker!”
He roared and hurtled down the stairs, totally heedless of his danger areas. Bring it on if there was some bastard waiting for him. He’d already killed one with his bare hands. “Colt. Colt, buddy, come on.” He didn’t dare move Colt until he knew what his injuries were, but he pushed his fingers against the carotid, looking for a pulse. Someone had to be with him so he could figure out what the fuck was going on. Colt jerked awake, eyes wide and bloodshot, huge. “What the fuck! Gianni! What the fuck!”
“Hey. Hey, it’s me. I’m right here. What the hell happened?” When Colt tried to sit up, he eased Colt to fully upright.
“I was grabbing a sandwich. I heard one of the guys come in, and everything went black. Where’s the team? Where the fuck is the team?”
�
�I don’t know.” His phone rang, causing them both to jump hard. The screen read Luis. “Talk to me, Luis. Tell me you’re all okay.”
“Had an attack. Took him down. No one’s fucking answering. I’m not leaving my primaries.”
“No, you stay put. I can’t get anyone, but Colt and I are together, so we’ll go see what the hell is going on. They were all in the barn.” So far no one was dead, just missing. That was something.
“All right. Let me know the sitrep.” Luis was a pro, for all they’d teased and fucked with him.
“I’m on it.”
“Help me up,” Colt said. He got Colt to standing, holding him there when Colt swayed. “The barn. We have to get to the barn.” Colt needed medical help, but Gianni needed him more.
“I can do it. You need shoes, at least.” Like he had room to talk. He was in bloody boxers.
Colt whipped around, eyes like holes in a blanket. “Do not fuck with me, Cesare! Our people are out there.”
“And neither of us will do them any good half-naked.” Gianni’s go bag was in the war room, so he moved in there to get a change of clothes. “Someone will want to process us both, but that can wait.” Chris. Chris could help. He whipped his phone back out, and the call went right to voicemail. “What the fuck?”
“Who?” Colt bit out.
“Chris.” He keyed up the number for the sheriff’s department. “Sheriff Whitehead, please.”
“I’m sorry, sir, he’s not on call tonight.”
“Contact him anyway.”
“If you’ll give me your name and number.”
“Gianni Cesare.” He rattled off his number. “It’s urgent. We have a situation at the Webb ranch.”
“Do you want me to send a deputy?”
“Not to me. Send one to Chris’s house. Now.” A ball of dread curled in his gut.
“Pardon me? Who are you?”
He didn’t have time for this shit. “Look, is Farley there?” Dean Farley was another high school buddy, and had been out to the ranch with Chris during the drug recovery.
“Yes. Just a moment.”
Colt was armed now and handed him a piece, then pointed to the door.
He nodded. They had to move. He slipped into the only shoes in the bag, which killed him because where the hell were his socks? Then he motioned Colt toward the flip-flops by the door. What a clusterfuck. Colt nodded, slipped them on, then opened the door.
“Dean Farley.”
“Farley, it’s Cesare. I need you to find Chris.”
“I’ve been calling. It’s going straight to voicemail.”
Yes, he knew that. “Send someone to his house. We had a breach here and at Jerilyn’s.”
“I’ll swing by on my way to you now. Y’all are okay?”
“No. I’ll explain once you’re here. Chris first.”
“He’s sitting on his ass watching reruns of Friends.”
“I sure hope so, but I need you to go.” Colt was out the door in seconds, and he followed, this time checking his quarters. He turned the phone off, and they made it toward the big barn, saying a little prayer for the team, for the horses.
Colt motioned him to one side of the doors, which gaped slightly. Damn it, he couldn’t hear anything in there. Then he heard a moan. “What the fuck…?”
That was Kody, and Colt just ran in, heedless as anything.
“Going to kill you, you little shit.” He pushed in, finding Kody and Harrison duct-taped together, the two older drovers in another pile.
Colt slid to his knees while Gianni checked stalls and doors. The duct tape was off Kody and Harrison’s mouths in moments. Kody spat out a wad of blood, and Gianni hoped there wasn’t a piece of tooth in all that mess. “They took Greg and Ali.”
“Damn it. Who were they? They bum-rushed me and Colt at the house, but I got the one who came after me.”
“Members of the MI50. We heard the cowboys cry out. We went to see what was what. They got us with rubber bullets.” Kody got to his feet. “I’m calling in my Rangers.”
“Bring them in. Did they say anything? Anything at all? Luis took his guy down too fast to ask questions.” He knelt next to Hank. “And where the hell is Mason?”
“I didn’t see the doc. Maybe he’s with Bonner?” Harrison helped Mr. Franklin, a trickle of blood sliding down from his ear.
“Bonner.” Oh sweet Jesus.
“Go,” Colt told him. “We’ll get everyone to the house and start processing. I’ll call for medical if you can’t find Mason.”
He nodded, then took off toward the foreman’s house. The open door spilled light onto the porch and the yard, where even in the night shadows the ground told a story. Bonner had been running to help him and had gone down.
“Mason?” He ran into Bonner’s house. “Bonner?” Maybe someone had left them duct-taped too.
He found Greg in Bonner’s front room, still out, a knife throbbing with Greg’s heartbeat where it was stuck in his shoulder. Greg was bound, bleeding on that ratty-assed couch. “Shit. Greg!” He rushed over, freeing Greg’s mouth. “Let me get your hands. Where’s Mason and Bonner?”
Greg opened his eyes and stared at him, eyes going from dazed and confused to sharp as a tack in seconds. “I was in the barn. They had Alison.”
“How did you end up in here?” The knife was deep enough that if he pulled it out, Greg would bleed too much to stop. “I have to leave it in, Greg. Until medical gets here.”
“Yeah. Yeah. okay. I fought. Someone was shooting with a suppressor. I took one down, and then… I don’t know.”
“A silencer?” That made him pause. “Kody and Hamilton said they were bikers.”
Greg shook his head. “No, man. Not the ones I saw. Cartel. No question.”
“Shit. Shit, shit.” He hauled out his phone, turning it on again to dial Mason. Maybe Mason had taken some evidence and gotten out. The phone started ringing out in the yard.
“Go get it.” Greg grimaced, rubbing his wrists. “I’m okay. I can wait for a medic.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.” He ran back out, calling Colt again because at least someone was answering their damn phone. “We need medical, Colt. Greg’s been stabbed.”
“Farley is sending someone. He can’t find Chris.”
He found Mason’s phone. And Bonner’s. “Goddammit. I want Tom in here now. I want this place crawling with forensics.”
“Already made the call. So we’re missing four?”
“Yeah.” He hung up and called Luis. “Sitrep.”
“DB still dead. Starting to stink. You?”
Fucker. “Alison, Mason, Chris, and my foreman, Bonner, are missing. Greg has been stabbed.”
“Jesus. How bad?”
“He’ll live. Rangers are coming. Tom’s sending in forensics.”
“What does Colt know?”
“Nothing yet. He’s still pulling damage control in the barn.” But they needed him in the crow’s nest looking at the footage.
“Okay. I’ll see who I have around.” Luis hung up abruptly, ready to get to work.
He ran back to the house, feeling more than a little like a chicken with his head cut off. The team—what was left after kidnappings, and Luis, and where the fuck were Hank and Colt?—were in the main house, along with the cowboys. The sight of that knife bobbing in Greg’s shoulder made him want to hurl. That was just fucking wrong. “Where’s emergency services? Where’s Colt and Hank?”
Where’s Buttercup? Things were getting a little out of control.
“On their way. Colt’s upstairs.” Harrison was holding Mr. Franklin’s head. “He’s in a bad way, boss.”
“Okay. I have basic field medic if you want me to take over.” Jesus. Jesus, he was an ass, endangering this man.
“I want to stay with him. In case. Hank is checking the horses. You find Bonner?”
“No. He’s gone, and so is Mason. I found their phones. I’ll go see Colt. Call if you need me.” He felt a thousand years old, the injuries
and adrenaline starting to pull at him. He just needed to make coffee.
“Tells you they didn’t know we were agents until they got here. Take out the lover, right?”
“Yeah.” Except what if Bonner had stayed inside? He shook his head. “This whole thing is disorganized as hell. Greg says they weren’t bikers who took out the barn.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t either. I’m going to check the feeds and make sure medical is coming.” Gianni needed to figure out what the actual fuck.
He wasn’t sure what to do, so he did the next thing. He went upstairs and sat at Colt’s bank of monitors. “Did you say you called Tom?”
“I did. The bar emptied out at six. Closed down. Your local was in there and left with them.”
“Local… Xavvy.” He whirled to the computer, keying up the barn first at a time stamp ten minutes before his call with Bonner. He fast-forwarded, and sure enough he saw Xavvy leading Mason and Ali out, talking hard. Where the fuck was Bonner?
He moved to the yard, hoping he would see Bonner on the footage there. Bonner ran for him, then stumbled forward, obviously hit by something, then a son of a bitch ran up and shot Bonner point blank.
Xavvy ran up and clocked the shooter, just hit him hard enough he crashed down, then scooped Bonner up under one arm and ran with Ali and the doc.
Okay. Okay, now to his house. The only guy who came in was the one Gianni had killed. He attacked Colt when he came out of the kitchen, then headed up the stairs.
No wonder none of theirs had died yet. Xavvy had their backs.
Except for Bonner.
Bonner’s back had been a pure target. Shit. He had to have been alive or Xavvy wouldn’t have taken him. Gianni had to believe that.
Gianni. Behind you.
Jesus.
“Looks like there’s a small pod I don’t recognize, then the bikers. The one set are pros. In. Out. They took everything from the war room. Did we have intel on the soldier?” Colt was tapping away behind him at the other bank of computers.
