Colt paused and Mike nodded so he continued.
“Don’t know if you know but Layla did a fuckin’ number on his arm. It’s mangled all to shit. This is likely why he dropped the gun and left it at the scene. It’s registered to his Dad and it’s covered in his prints. It’s also likely why Ryker could jack him up so bad. Ryker’s a monster but, his right arm useless, he wasn’t able to defend himself.”
That got another eye flare before Mike nodded and Colt went on.
“Tanner got to Cal and Piggott before the cops. Cal reported he got Ryker off Piggott and Cal subdued the kid with plastic restraints, though the kid wasn’t movin’ too much anyway. Before Tanner even got there, Ryker went to ground probably because Cal advised him to do so. Sully’s executing fancy footwork at the Station and I gotta say not a man or woman in that building is fired up to go out in search of Ryker. And, right now, Piggott’s parents gotta worry about finding an attorney because Sully informed them that an attack on teenagers and a cop’s woman by a kid his age with priors, it is highly likely he’ll be tried as an adult. So I’m not sure they’re thinkin’ too much about what’s gonna happen with Ryker. With time, though, they’ll turn their attention to it so we gotta figure somethin’ out.”
“He shot an unarmed woman who did not one thing to him at point blank range in the chest,” Mike reminded him, his voice blank, his eyes not even close to blank and Colt flinched.
“Yeah,” Colt agreed.
“She’s got friends, those friends are gonna react. No judge in this state, even with Ryker’s history, will look at this and go hard at Ryker.”
“Yeah,” Colt agreed.
“Someone needs to get word to him to turn himself in,” Mike advised.
“Tanner’s workin’ on it.”
Mike nodded and his eyes moved to the doors.
“Mike –” Colt started carefully and Mike’s eyes cut to him.
“Don’t,” he bit off. “I’ve known her twenty-five years, had her for five months and part of that time I pissed away. I get you wanna say the right thing but there is no right thing right now.”
“Right,” Colt whispered.
“It’s appreciated, just not right now, Colt.”
Colt nodded.
Then he lifted a hand, clapped it on Mike’s shoulder and squeezed while holding his eyes.
Then he let him go, scanned the room, locking eyes occasionally then turned and walked out of the room.
He had shit to do. They had a situation.
But his destination was Feb.
Feb and Jack.
Once he saw his woman, held her, took her mouth and laid eyes on his son…
Then he’d deal with the situation.
* * * * *
Mike was standing in the waiting room, everyone else still was in their seats.
His eyes were to the door.
But he didn’t see the door.
He saw Dusty in their bed with his dog that morning telling him she loved him.
Black day.
He saw it in those kids’ eyes. He knew it.
He missed it.
And it made for a black day.
She knew it was coming, he promised her he’d make it okay and he broke his promise.
A black fucking day.
Then his eyes focused, the room got tense and the man in scrubs approached the door.
He walked through, scanned the room and asked, “Dusty Holliday?”
Everyone moved forward.
Mike got there first.
* * * * *
Joe came through the side door and Violet dashed to it. She hit his body, one hand curling around his bicep, one resting on his abs.
“Any word?” she asked, her eyes searching his hard, angry face.
“No,” he ground out then his hand closed around her head, he yanked her up and his mouth slammed down on hers.
Then he kissed her, hard and wet and for a very long time.
He lifted his head and looked into her eyes.
“Love you, buddy,” he whispered.
“Love you too, Joe,” she whispered back.
His phone rang and they both went still.
Then Joe pulled it out of his back pocket as Vi stayed close not that she could go anywhere even if she wanted to (which she didn’t). Joe’s arm was locked around her tight.
He looked at the display and muttered, “Fuck, Sully.”
Then he flipped it open and put it to his ear.
“Yo.”
Then Violet watched with a sinking heart as her husband’s expression changed and he slowly closed his eyes.
* * * * *
Clarisse got close to Fin’s side as he rested his forehead on the window, eyes closed.
“You gotta do it, Fin,” she whispered. “You promised.”
She watched his eyes scrunch tight.
Then he pulled the phone out of his back pocket and didn’t lift his forehead from the window as he held it in front of his face, his thumb moving on it.
Then he hit a button and put it to his ear opposite Clarisse.
She pressed closer, her hand trailing down his forearm until it curled around his.
His curled back so tight it hurt.
She didn’t make a peep.
“Aunt Debbie?” he asked and Clarisse stared at his profile.
Then he said softly, “Yeah, I got news.”
Clarisse pressed even closer.
And when she did, Fin’s hand got even tighter.
Then she closed her eyes and listened.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Bicky and Bickrum McBickerson
Three weeks later…
When Mike’s foot hit the top of the stairs, he heard it.
He turned in the direction he was going anyway and moved down the hall to the double doors.
He opened one and took one step in.
“Seriously?” Jerra asked, standing by the bed, hands on her hips, face ticked off.
“I swear to God, if I have to lie in this bed another fucking day I’m gonna open fire!” Dusty shouted.
Layla, lying in bed with Dusty, woofed.
“Angel, shut it,” Mike ordered from his place standing inside the door and it was good he didn’t enter further because her head whipped his direction and even most a room away he could feel the heat from her narrowed gaze.
“Did you say ‘shut it’?” she asked with a deceptively soft voice.
“You got a hole in your chest,” he reminded her.
“It’s healing,” she fired back.
“And one in your leg,” he went on.
“That’s healing too!” she snapped.
“You know, it would really suck if you survived an attack from a psycho teenager on a rampage only to get strangled by your best friend,” Jerra observed.
“Ugh!” Dusty grunted then flopped back on the pillows and Mike felt his body start at her forceful actions even as he saw Jerra’s do the same and her hands come up like she could have gotten in there fast enough to cushion the fall.
“I got this, Jerra,” Mike muttered and she looked to him, wiped the concerned look off her face, replaced it with bogus attitude then she strutted to the door.
And she did this inviting, “Have at it. She seems to obey you.”
“I don’t obey! He’s an alpha! It’s just that I don’t have any choice!” Dusty shouted to her back.
With all due haste and without a word, Jerra left the room and closed the door.
Mike walked to the foot of the bed.
Then he said quietly, “Sweetheart, you gotta calm down.”
“Can I go lie on the couch downstairs without you carrying me?” she asked.
“No,” he answered.
Her eyes got squinty.
“For six hours, a lot of people who love you, including your bitch of a sister, were terrified outta their brains for you,” Mike reminded her softly and her eyes stopped being squinty and her face gentled.
Then she wh
ispered, “I’m going nuts up here, Mike.”
“And you said you were goin’ nuts in the hospital so I brought you home. Now you’re goin’ nuts here. You gotta take it easy, Angel. Your leg is totally fucked up and you got a hole through your fuckin’ chest. Docs say you’ll have a complete recovery but not if you fuck it up.”
She held his eyes then flopped back on the mound of pillows again.
Mike walked around the bed, put a knee into it then put a fist on either side of her hips and his face close to hers.
Her eyes came to his.
“And stop movin’ in that jerky way. It scares the shit outta me each time you do it thinkin’ you’re gonna pull something, tear something or rupture something. That fuckwad nicked an artery and he blew a fuckin’ hole through your chest. I saw them load you, covered in blood and unconscious, into the back of an ambulance. This is not somethin’ I’ll ever forget and I sure as fuck don’t wanna relive it. Cut me some slack, yeah?”
She closed her eyes slowly, a shadow of pain for him that he had that memory drifting across her face.
Then she opened her eyes, lifted a hand and curled it along his jaw as she whispered, “Yeah.”
“You gonna quit bein’ a pain in the ass?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she repeated.
“You gonna marry me?”
She blinked.
Then she whispered, “What?”
Mike shifted so he was sitting with a hip pressed light to hers and her hand at his jaw dropped. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring.
Then he lifted her left hand and slid the diamond on her ring finger.
When he looked at her face, her eyes were on the ring and they were bright.
“You get fightin’ fit, this shit goes into overdrive. Married by end of summer, you pregnant by fall. You with me?”
Her eyes moved from the ring to him.
Then she nodded as one tear slid down her cheek.
Then she asked what he thought, considering the moment, was bizarrely, “Will Ryker be off house arrest by then?”
“I don’t know,” Mike answered.
“If he isn’t, we have to do it in his front yard so at least he can watch from the windows.”
Mike’s lips twitched and his hand moved to curl around the one of Dusty’s bearing his ring.
But he did this denying her. “We’re not gettin’ married in Ryker’s front yard. This is your first and only wedding. We’re doin’ it up big. You got your girl here, use her wisely. Sort that shit out. It’ll give you somethin’ to do other than bitch.”
She looked contrite and used her free hand to dash away the wetness caused by her single tear.
Then she muttered, “Sorry I’ve been bitching.”
“You’re active. Now you’re forced to be inactive. If it was me laid up, I’d probably be a pain in the ass too.”
She grinned and fuck, fuck, he loved it when she grinned.
Then her grin died and she whispered, “Sorry me being stupid scared the shit outta you.”
“You’re forgiven if you don’t it again.”
“I’ll act like I’m crystal.”
“I’d be obliged.”
She grinned again.
Then her hand squeezed his, her eyes got bright again and she breathed, “We’re getting married.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m marrying Jonathan Michael Haines, the first boy I ever loved.”
Mike’s lips twitched and he repeated, “Yeah.”
She held his eyes and she whispered, “I’m marrying you, Mike Haines.”
Mike leaned in and, his lips against hers, he whispered another, “Yeah.”
Then he kissed her gentle and he took his time before he lifted his head.
She pulled in a quiet breath.
Then she said softly, “Can you ask Jerra to come in? I have a wedding to plan. She has to go out and buy bride’s magazines. I’m all over this but she’s gotta be my legs and wheels.”
Mike smiled at her and yet again said, “Yeah.”
Then he leaned in, touched his mouth to hers and carefully got off the bed.
Layla woofed.
He paused to give her a head rub and when he was done she shifted so she was pressed down the side of Dusty’s leg and then Dusty’s fingers were gliding through the fur on her head and she got a head rub from Dusty too.
Mike walked to the doors but turned and looked at his woman in his bed.
She was alive, breathing, recuperating and they’d been assured if she took it easy that she’d have a full recovery.
That weight was no longer in his gut.
In a few weeks, Dusty healed, life would be good.
All good.
Finally.
Finally he’d be happy with not one thing fucking it up.
“Love you, Angel,” he called and her eyes went from Layla to Mike.
“Love you too, babe,” she replied.
He grinned.
She grinned back.
Mike took in her grin then he left the room.
* * * * *
Mike stared at the basket that was delivered to his door two minutes ago that he put on his kitchen counter.
It was from Audrey. Through the crunchy yellow-tinted cellophane that spiked out of the top and a big, shiny yellow bow, Mike could see inside different bottles of nail polish, lotion, something called “scrub” and other shit.
Mike had read the note with no remorse. No way he was walking some shit he didn’t know who it was from up to Dusty. It could be from Debbie.
It simply said in Audrey’s fine, tight, cursive, Dusty, I hope you get well soon. –Audrey
It was a nice thing to do. Thoughtful. Not over the top. Clearly the two times she’d been around Dusty she noticed Dusty took care of her nails.
And since his ex was still on track and that track might lead them to decent thing, a life as a non-nuclear family that got along, he had decided he’d give the basket to his woman.
He was about to do that when his cell rang and he pulled it out of his back pocket.
It said, “Merry Calling”.
He hit the button and put it to his ear.
“Hey, Merry.”
“Yo, brother. Want some good news?” Merry asked.
“Always,” Mike answered.
“Judge decided. They’re tryin’ Troy Piggott as an adult.”
Mike’s eyes went unfocused on the basket.
But his lips smiled.
* * * * *
“Soooo,” Rees, sitting in front of him on Blaise, drew it out but said no more.
“So what?” Fin asked, walking the horse carefully between the rows of corn on his way to take them to the watering hole.
“How do you feel about Dad and Dusty gettin’ married?”
Mr. Haines had told Reesee and No before she came over to Fin’s house.
Reesee had told Fin right away when she got there.
And Fin thought it was the shit.
“It’s the shit,” he answered and heard her soft giggle even as he felt it.
“I think so too,” she agreed. “And Dusty already asked me to be a bridesmaid.”
Reesee would look good in a bridesmaid dress.
Then again, she looked good in anything.
He didn’t tell her that.
Instead, he muttered, “Cool.”
She fell silent as they slowly made their way through the low growth of corn.
Then she announced, “I got my learner’s permit.”
“Know that, babe,” he replied.
She twisted in the saddle and looked up at him, grinning.
Fin looked down at her, not grinning just taking her in.
Serious to God, she was beautiful.
“Wanna teach me to drive?” she asked and, at that, Fin grinned back.
Then he said, “Yeah.”
“Cool,” she muttered and twisted to face forward again.
Fin’s hold around her belly
tightened. Then the cornfield opened up into the dirt road that led to the watering hole. So he pressed his chest into her, held even tighter and touched his heels to Blaise.
They took off, the wind in their faces, Reesee’s hair drifting against his neck and jaw, the Indiana sunshine burning hot and muggy on them.
A perfect day. Nothing could be more perfect. Nothing. Not anywhere.
Not London. Not Paris. Not Shangri La.
Not anywhere.
But there.
On his farm.
In Indiana.
* * * * *
Clarisse was concentrating and she wasn’t sure she should do it but she figured if she was going to do it, now was a good time.
She could hide behind concentrating.
So as she brushed the kickass deep, dark burgundy fingernail polish her Mom gave Dusty on Dusty’s toenails, she muttered, “Love you, Dusty.”
She kept her eyes on Dusty’s toes and kept brushing.
Then she heard in Dusty’s sweet, musical voice a soft, “I love you too, Reesee.”
She loved it when Dusty called her Reesee.
She loved it that Dusty loved her.
She loved it bunches.
She smiled at Dusty’s toes and kept brushing.
And since she did, she missed Fin, who was lying stretched out beside his aunt, his arms up, elbows bent, head on his hands, ankles crossed, turn his head on his hands in the pillow and smile at Dusty.
And she also missed Dusty smiling in return.
And she further missed No, who was sitting cross-legged at the end of the bed opposite Clarisse with his guitar in his lap that he was strumming absentmindedly, look at Fin and roll his eyes. But he did it being a dork because he too was smiling.
And last, she missed her Dad walking in and stopping dead in the door.
But even if she saw him, she could have no clue as he took in the bed that he was thinking for the first time that that big, ridiculously expensive bed was worth every fucking penny.
Games of the Heart Page 58
