by BA Tortuga
“No. But the sheriff….”
“He seems tough,” Colt said, no emotion showing.
“I sure as shit hope so.”
“Blue lights and ambulance at the gates.”
Gianni nodded. “Open them. Let them in.”
“You got it. What’s the situation at the other house?”
“As soon as the other teams get here, I want backup for Luis.” Micah was a cowboy and could probably hold his own with bikers, but with pros? No.
“You got it. You go down and organize medical. You need a walkie.”
“I do. They still charged?”
Colt jerked his chin toward a stand of the things. “They didn’t get everything. Good idea, me being up here.”
“Yep.” He grabbed a handset, running the scenarios in his mind. They all made him curse viciously in Italian. Colt didn’t look at him, eyes on the screen.
“Go on, boss.”
“I am.” He moved back down the stairs, wishing he’d stopped to change shoes. His head pounded like a bass drum, and he was nearing hysteria about his partner, his team, and his lover. Jesus, what was going on?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“KID. KID, you got to wake up. What’s his name, Ali?”
“Bonner.”
“Bonner, I know you’re in there. Open your eyes.”
He didn’t know that voice, and he really didn’t want to open his eyes. Had he gotten bucked off? And stomped? He sure felt like it. “’M I on the arena floor?”
“No, kiddo. You’re being held hostage by drug dealers and bikers.” That voice was pitched low. “I need to know you’re awake. So cowboy up.”
Wait. What? He blinked his eyes open and immediately tried to hurl, the pain slamming into him.
“They think you’re dying, Bonner.” That was a woman. He thought so too.
“Wha’ you need me t’do?” That was all he could manage.
“There you are, kiddo. Come on. Untie us. I got to help the sheriff.”
He nodded and tried to stand up, but something in his back wouldn’t let him, so he crawled toward the voice. Jesus. Please. Let him man up.
The sheriff. Why did the sheriff need help? Nausea filled him, but this shit he knew. Pain was something you fought through, and someone was tied up. That couldn’t be good. He found somebody’s legs and started tearing at the tape, fingers just about stupid, but he was going to figure this. Bonner grunted, about ready to get in there with his teeth when it finally gave way.
“Good deal,” the woman said. “Now my hands.”
“Hands?” Where were those?
“Come on, Bonner. You can do it, man. You’re doing a great job.”
That was him. Great job man.
He crawled up the chair she was tied to, fumbling for more duct tape. There. Oh God, he couldn’t breathe.
“That’s it. You fucking rock, man. I swear, you get this, and I will send you and Cesare to the beach for a month.”
“Gianni? Is he okay?” His mind was working like a rusty tractor, but he remembered Gianni being in danger. There. Her hands were free.
“He’s fine, I’m sure.” She went like the wind, unfastening the other guy as Bonner slumped on the chair, panting hard.
“Thank you,” the guy murmured. He moved fast for someone who’d been taped up, and he went right past Bonner to someone who lay on the floor.
“You okay, cowboy?” She reached for him, and he shook his head.
“Don’t fucking touch me.”
“I have to see where you’re hurt the most.” Her voice took on the same damn note Gianni’s had when he was at his most imperious.
“No touching. I can’t….” He couldn’t hold it together if she did.
“Okay. Okay, but you’ll have to let someone look you over when you get out of here.” She sounded like someone choosing the lesser of two evils.
“Fair enough.” All right, cowboy, look around and find yourself a weapon and a way out of this—He sniffed.—bar.
“How’s Chris?” the woman asked.
Right. Chris the sheriff.
“He’s in a bad way. He’ll live, if we get him to a hospital in the next day or so.”
“Living is good. We like living.”
Bonner listened to their talk—he couldn’t really call it banter—and hung there over the chair, whooping for breath. Okay, out. They had to get out. There was a door. Kegs. Beer room. Good. There were things to use.
Come on, son. Think. He shook his head, which made him gag.
“I will say you’re one tough motherfucker,” Alison said.
“’M a cowboy.” He found a pair of heavy channel locks and a big-assed screwdriver on the floor. “My sister?”
“My contact says she’s fine. Nice. Can I have the pliers? Better weight behind any swing I make.” Alison was laughing, he thought.
“Be lucky I c’n hit anything.” Bonner handed her the tool.
Next he needed something for the doctor. He crawled across the floor, the filth enough to make him worry he would never get clean again.
There. Score! A box cutter, rusty and probably dull, but it would work.
“Bonner, let me look at your back. Just turn around.” That was the doctor.
“You touch me and I will hurt you, man.” He was broke in there. He could feel shit grinding inside.
“I won’t. We need an X-ray before anyone touches anything.” The guy smiled. “Come on, show me.” He heard the soft hiss when he turned. Yeah, that never was good.
“I’m fine.”
“Uh-huh. Not much we can do until we get out of here, but try to stay out of any fighting we might have to do.”
“I’m on it.” One of these boxes had to hold hard liquor. Had to. He could set that shit on fire. Bonner was used to being laid up and still getting his shit done. He was a roughstock rider, for fuck’s sake. Okay. Whiskey. Rock on. Now. Lighter.
Noise on the other side of the door startled him. “No, I’ll just get rid of the bodies. They’re bound to be stiff by now.”
He hefted a bottle. He was fucking stiff all right. The guy outside opened the door, and damn if Alison didn’t go right after him with the channel locks.
“Easy, y’all. Breathe. How’s Chris?” A huge bastard shut the door behind him. “Christ, I didn’t think you’d be standing, cowboy. This Gianni’s boy?”
“I ain’t no ’nes boy,” he growled.
“Right. Sorry. Okay, look, I can get Chris and you out, Bonner. Then you and the doc have to make a break for it, Ali.”
“No. Take the sheriff and the lady.” He’d be damned if he left a woman in here. No fucking way.
Alison turned on him, brandishing her pliers. “I could take you apart with my bare hands. Get out of here, civilian, so I can do my job.”
“No, ma’am.” He didn’t think so, not even as fucked-up as he was. He would not leave a lady behind.
“Texans.” She rolled her eyes, but smiled. “You have to play dead, kiddo. I swear, I have a plan. We’ll be right behind you.”
“I can play dead.” He looked to the big guy. “I don’t know who you are, but we got to get out of here.”
“I know.” The man nodded sharply. “How’s Chris?”
“He needs a hospital. I’m worried about his head. He isn’t with us.”
“Okay.” The guy was chewing his cheek now. “I can—this whole thing is gonna blow my cover anyway.”
“What’s the plan, then? I need to know.” Bonner couldn’t move fast, but he wasn’t going to share that.
“Well, what I want to try to do is open this door and go right to the back. My truck is back there, and the guys are amused that I have to move the bodies. I’ll take Chris first. Then the rest of you can come as soon as we know no one is going to be an audience.”
“Okay. If we have to, I’ll set this whole fucking place on fire on our way out.”
Miss Alison blinked at him. “I do like you, kiddo.”
“Tha
nk you, ma’am.”
“I think that’s a grand idea,” Mason said. “Lighter. Trade you for the sheriff.”
Bonner started opening bottles, pouring whiskey and tequila all along the back walls.
The big guy tossed a lighter at the doc, then wrapped a blanket around the sheriff and lifted him as if he was a child.
Alison looked at Bonner. “We just get out. You know this place is surrounded with cops. You let us get you out.”
“As soon as you give the word, lady.”
She nodded, and the doc rose to stand by them. “This whole place will go up. Just hustle.”
The door opened again. It wasn’t the big guy. Not at all.
“Now!” Alison whanged the guy with the pliers, pushing him down. The doc lit the booze, and suddenly it was hot in there. Had to be time to go. When the doc put hands on him to move him, Bonner didn’t even mind. He had the screwdriver and the box cutter in hand, and as soon as anyone came close, he lashed out.
The doc pushed him from behind, turning him toward the light of the open back door. The pop pop of gunfire sounded behind that. He thought Alison had acquired a gun. Acquired. Listen to him. A gigantic motherfucker stepped in front of him, looking like a goddamn redwood tree, and he slammed his screwdriver into one massive thigh. “Get out of my way!”
“Aaaa.” The guy clutched his leg and staggered back, and Bonner thought maybe the doc kicked the asshole on the way by.
Whatever. He was never going to be barefoot again.
Ever.
They hit the back door running, and damned if the big guy who’d let them out didn’t stuff him and Alison into the truck. “Time to get out of here.”
The doc swung up into the cab, and then all hell broke loose, a metric shit-ton of black-vested cops swarming the bar.
“Go!” the doc barked. “Straight to the hospital. I’ll call it in. Go, go, go.”
The guy hit the gas, the vehicle leaping out of the parking lot and onto the road. Shit, that was gonna make his back either better or worse. Bonner didn’t know which.
He curled up in the back seat, panting hard, telling himself he just had to hold it together. Just a little longer.
Just breathe.
Phone calls were flying fast and loose, the doc calling the hospital, the big guy calling…. “Yeah, I got your man, Boyardee. He’s tore up, and so is Chris. We’re heading to the hospital. Are you at the bar or the—okay. Meet us there, then.”
“I want to go home. I need a nap.”
“Hospital,” Mason snapped. “You trying to tell me your sports medicine docs wouldn’t make you go if you were like this?”
Well…. No way in hell. “They’d be sorta like you. Pissy.”
“Right. So shut up about going home.” Mason gave him a glare. Grumpy man.
He growled back, but he just didn’t have it in him. Shit was starting to get a little fuzzy around the edges.
And fuck, there were a lot of edges. A lot of fuzz. He blinked, trying to focus. Nope. Nada. His vision was gray.
“Bonner? Kiddo, stay with us now.”
Yeah. No. No, he didn’t think that was going to work for him. At all.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
GIANNI ARRIVED at the hospital just a few minutes after Xavvy, according to their call. Mason was standing just beyond the check-in at the ER, so Gianni went to him. “Alison? Bonner? Chris?”
“All being checked out. I got a clean bill despite the duct tape.”
“Doc. Mason. Please, man.”
“Alison has some bumps and bruises. Chris has a fairly serious head injury. Bonner has a minimum of broken ribs, maybe a few broken vertebrae.”
“Broken—” Jesus. And Chris. Christ. “What else can you tell me?”
“Your foreman is the toughest motherfucker I’ve seen in a long time. I approve.”
“I do too.” He itched to go see Bonner. And Alison and Chris. “Xavvy?”
“He kept everyone alive, huh?”
“Did he go back?”
“Yeah, to ident people to law enforcement.”
“Okay. I’ll make sure Colt keeps eyes on him.” Fuck-a-doodle-goddamn-do.
“His cover is gone. We burned down the bar, man.” Mason chuckled. “Xavvy says there will be enough arrests to get to the heart of the cartel.”
“Good. I want them to go down, from top to bottom. Brutally.”
“I know, man.” Mason clapped him on the shoulder. “We got this. I’ll clear you to see all of them, okay?”
“Thanks, man. I appreciate it. I’ll start with Alison.”
“Good. I imagine Chris will be on his way to surgery in short order.”
Bile rose in his throat, making it all the way to the back of his mouth. “Fuck. I’ve known him since we were kids.”
“He’s the sheriff. They took him before Xavier knew what was happening.”
So not the bikers. The enforcers. “You mean they would have taken him no matter what.”
“Yes. You know your job. Guilt isn’t part of it.” Mason didn’t sound like he cared all that much.
“Right.” Gianni thought he could really like Mason.
“So. Let me get you in.” Mason took his arm. “Got your ID?”
“I do.” His cover would be blown too.
“Who first? Still Alison?”
“Yeah. She’ll want to be cleared and get back to work.” He knew his partner too well.
“Fair enough. Follow me.” Mason led him through a set of hallways and into a bay.
“Tell them to clear me, Cesare!” Those were Alison’s first words to him when he walked into her room.
“Gee, good to see you alive and kicking, Als.”
“Ditto. How did I know you were fine?”
“Fine?” He leaned in so she could see his new bruises.
“At least this time you didn’t take one in the vest.” She looked him over. “You have to stop getting hit in the face.”
“It was my head last time. How do you not have a mark on you?”
Her mouth went flat. “You can’t see the bruises.”
“You’ve been checked out? X-rays?” They loved to hate on each other, but he would kill anyone that hurt her.
“I have. They want me to have some other kind of scan, but those fuckers really treated me and Mason like glass. I’m fine.”
“Good. How about Chris and Bonner?”
She shook her head. “Xavier got them to stay untied because the bikers thought they were dead. Chris is hurt, Gianni. Bonner was up and moving, but he’s in a rough way. He got us free, though. He’s a hell of a kid.”
“Chris is heading for surgery, lady.”
“Bonner?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I’m gonna see him next.”
“Get me out of here so I can get back to work, and you can take hospital duty.” She shook her head when he opened his mouth. “You look like hammered shit.”
“I feel like hammered shit, so we’re even.”
“You’re the one who needs to be checked out, Caesar. Trade me.”
“I’ll get you out once Mason has a look at you too.”
“Deal. Send him in and go see your sweet baboo.” She waved him off, making shooing motions with her hands.
He kissed Alison’s cheek on the way out. She made gagging noises, which made him chuckle. No guffawing. It hurt too much. He pushed through the door, running right into Mason. The man was like that clown in the old post office commercial. “Check her out, Doc. Where’s Bonner?”
“Five E.”
“Got it.” He headed to Bonner’s room, ready to show his badge, but there were no uniforms there yet. There should be.
He knocked lightly before ducking into the space. “Bonner? You in here, caro?”
Bonner was on his belly, back a swollen bruise. Jesus. “I’m here. Tell them to let me go.”
“I don’t think so, honey. This looks bad.” He moved the chair up so Bonner could see him before he sat down. Thi
s was his fault. Bonner was broken, and it was his fault.
“You’re okay. I thought… when I saw that guy.”
“Me too. I really thought he had me. I got him, but he put me down for almost an hour. Then I couldn’t find you. Or anyone.” The panic when his whole team, but for Colt, was missing…. Jesus, he’d aged ten years.
“Is Bri safe? Are the cowboys okay?”
“Bri’s fine. Mr. Franklin had to have some stitches, and he’s in for observation tonight. Hank is already back at work. They underestimated Luis, so Micah, Jerilyn, and Bri have moved to Jeri’s condo in Dallas for a few days. I promised Bri calls.”
“Thank God. You’re whole? You look bruised as hell.”
“Caro, have you looked in the mirror?”
“Nope. Not a chance.” Bonner grimaced. “Besides, I try not to look at my backside.”
“Uh-huh. Well, I look at it a lot, and that gown doesn’t leave much to the imagination.” He winked, which made Bonner smile. “I’ll be okay.”
“Will I?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t talked to the doc yet. Mason assures me you can feel your toes. Is he right?”
“Yeah. I can wiggle, but I’d rather not.” Bonner’s tone was dry as dust.
“Well, there you go. They think broken ribs, maybe cracked vertebrae.”
“Ah. Had that. That’s okay.”
Gianni had to grin. Such a cowboy. “Well, I know how it feels to have broken ribs. Blah.” He looked at Bonner critically. “They shot you point blank with rubber bullets. Really, I think you did great.”
“Yeah, I did fab, saving you. Don’t make me laugh.”
“Hey.” Reaching out, he had to touch Bonner’s cheek, where a huge scrape marched angrily across the skin. “You warned me, you freed Alison and Mason, and you fought your way out. You’re a fucking stud.” And he hadn’t babbled so much since the last time his parents had shown up unexpectedly.
“I want to come home with you.” Bonner pushed into the touch.
“I want that too. We just need to see what the docs say. If you have someone from the rodeo side of things you trust to treat you, I can bring them in.”
“If I need surgery, yeah. Dr. Cox. Please.”
“You got it.” Gianni pulled out his phone to make a note. He would find this Dr. Cox and get his ass to Mount Pleasant.
