by Tinnean
“I don’t wanna get shot again. It really sucks.”
“I know. Can you sit up?”
“Gimme a hand.”
Deuce slid an arm around his waist and helped him sit up. “Doc, you got something Trip can wear? It’s a little cold for him to go outside like this.”
“Yeah. Just give me a minute. Here. Take this.” He shoved a cardboard box at Ace.
“What’s in here?”
“Bandages, antiseptic cream, an IV kit, and a bag of normal saline for the fluid that has to be replaced. Supplies you’ll need for your friend.”
“Thanks, Doc. You’re a good man,” Deuce called after him.
“Make sure your employer is aware of that.” Dr. Cadogan returned with a button-down shirt and a sweater. He got Trip’s left arm into the sleeve and over his shoulders, then draped the sweater over him and buttoned it up. “I don’t want him using his right arm for a few days. He’s lucky that bullet didn’t break his shoulder blade. Are you ready?”
“Ace, get his other side.”
“Got him, Boss.”
“Okay now,” the doc said, “come this way.” He led them out of the room, down a corridor, and to a door. He opened it. “Take care of yourselves, and I hope I never see you again.”
“We feel the same way, Doc.”
Stan had the Malibu idling near the door, with the headlights off. When he saw them, he hopped out of the car, ran around to the passenger side, and opened the rear door. With that done, he took the box from Ace, put it in the trunk, and then got himself back behind the wheel and waited for them to get Trip settled.
There wasn’t much room for a grown man to lie down in the backseat, but Trip would have to make the best of it.
“Uh, Deuce?”
“Yeah, Ace?”
“It’s gonna be a little tight up here.”
“Goddammit.” The Malibu could only fit the driver and a passenger in the front, which contained two bucket seats. No way could the three of them sit there, even if Ace sat on his lap. Not only would it be uncomfortable, but it would draw unwanted attention to them.
“How come we didn’t have this problem when we drove to the doc’s?” Ace muttered.
“Because Deuce was in the backseat with me, keeping me propped up. By the way, thanks, Boss.”
“Don’t mention it. Okay, change of plans. Ace, lower the front seat as far back as it can go. Trip, you’re taking that seat. Come on, Butch.”
With the seat all the way down, Deuce and Ace maneuvered Trip onto it, then got him buckled up.
“You okay?”
“I’ll… I’ll live.” Trip smiled at him the best he could.
“Okay.” Deuce shut the door. Ace was already in the backseat, and he slid in next to him.
“Where to, Boss?” Stan asked.
“Get us onto 95 North, then take it to 26 West.”
“Got it. We’re heading for Columbia?”
“Right.” The capital of South Carolina had a population that was almost five times less than DC, and it should be quiet enough for Trip to recuperate in peace.
Stan put the car in gear and let it roll out onto the street. Once there, he flipped on the headlights and steered the Malibu out of Walterboro.
Deuce leaned forward and touched Trip’s shoulder lightly. Trip turned his head and smiled at him.
“It’ll be okay, Boss.”
“Damn straight it will.”
But he couldn’t help wondering—would it?
Chapter 8
JANUARY 11 was a gorgeous Friday, and even though Josh left work early, he wasn’t surprised to see all the cars and pickup trucks parked in the ranch’s drive and lined up and down the street. Tom and Jackson were having another barbecue, although it wasn’t warm enough to open the pool.
Jackson’s crew were over at the horseshoe pit, and the sound of horseshoes hitting the stakes vied with the shouts at the volleyball net where boys and girls were whacking the ball back and forth.
Josh and Tom sat and watched in appreciation, although Josh made sure not to stare too long at Mopp.
Jackson joined them, bearing two beers and a Coke. “I’ve been thinking.” He handed Josh a beer and Tom the soda, then leaned down to brush his lips over Tom’s.
Josh knew Tom loved his partner, but he’d always felt Jackson wasn’t the right man for him. He didn’t want to hurt his friend, however, so most of the time he kept his mouth shut.
“What’s up, buddy?” Tom asked as he popped the top of his soda.
“With Miz Babe and Denny staying with us, I think I want to build another extension on the ranch.”
“Are you sure? We could give her and her little boy Rush’s room, since he’s moved in with Tad.”
“Nah, I want them to have two bedrooms, a kitchenette, and their own bathroom.” He set his beer down, grabbed a napkin, and pulled a pencil from his shirt pocket. He wasn’t an architect, but he’d been in construction since he’d graduated from college, and he knew his way around a diagram. With a few quick lines, he produced a suite that contained everything he’d mentioned. “What do you think?”
Tom grinned at him. “Have I ever said no to you?”
Jackson grinned smugly. “I’ve already measured out what I think we’ll need. I’ll head over to Home Depot as soon as the party breaks up.”
Denny had joined them, and he leaned against Jackson.
“You’re really gonna build us a room, Mr. Jack?” he asked.
“That I am, son. You and your momma are going to have your own little apartment.” He showed the little boy the floorplan.
“I can’t ask that of you, Mr. Jackson,” Miz Babe said.
“Sure you can.” He gave her a broad grin. “I haven’t added anything to the ranch in a while.”
“Don’t argue, Miz Babe,” Tom said. “When Jack gets that look, he’s got the bit between his teeth, so you may as well give in. It’s what I do.”
She worried her lower lip, and Tom reached over and touched her hand.
“I understand your concerns, but it will be okay,” he assured her. “This is a gated community, and you’ve got four adult men available in the main house. Six if we count Josh and Billy Bob.”
“I hope you will count us.” Josh smiled at her. “I don’t live here, but I’m just a phone call and a fast motorcycle ride away.”
“And I’m in the bunkhouse.” Mopp had wandered up and now he chimed in. Josh allowed himself one appreciative glance, then turned back to Miz Babe.
“All right,” she conceded. “We’ll give it a try.”
“Yes!” Denny jumped up and did a fist pump. “Can I go with you?”
“I don’t see why not, if your momma says it’s okay.”
“Ma?”
She looked uncertain. Josh had never met a woman who was so cautious. It wasn’t because she didn’t know them, because by now, she did. He wished he knew what had gone on with her before Tim and Cris, the owners of the Always Reddy Pub, had called Tom and asked for his help.
“You can come with us as well,” Jackson suggested.
“Okay. Thank you.”
Josh opened his mouth to say he’d go also, but Mopp beat him to it.
“I’d like to come too, if that’s okay with you, Mr. Jackson?”
“Sure, Mopp. I could use an extra pair of hands.”
They were laughing and joking as they headed out. Miss January gave a huff and stalked into the house, slamming the door behind her.
Tom sighed and shook his head. “She hasn’t been herself since Billy Bob turned down her proposal.”
“No.”
“Billy Bob was a real gentleman about it—”
“I know.”
“—and afterward, he told her if she’d wait until he graduated, he’d be more tha
n happy to walk down the aisle with her—”
Josh would have been willing to wait forever for Mopp… “Wait, what? I hadn’t heard about that!” Why hadn’t he heard about that?
“You weren’t here. You’d been called in to work.”
“It sounds like I missed some really interesting things.”
“Oh, yeah. January flat out refused, which is like cutting off her nose to spite her face. The problem is, now she isn’t dealing well with it.”
Josh could understand that. If he were dating Mopp and had reached the point he wanted to marry him, he wouldn’t take it well either if Mopp said no.
“Come on. The party’s breaking up. Want to give me a hand cleaning up?”
“Sure, buddy.” Josh finished his beer, then rose and pulled his friend to his feet. “Let’s get cracking.”
***
TWO HOURS LATER, Tom sat before the piano in the alcove off the living room, playing a medley of Beatles’ songs, while Josh and Tad accompanied him on acoustic guitars and Rush and Miss Becca sang.
From the kitchen they could hear Miss January slamming cabinets.
And then there was another sound—a car horn blaring up the drive.
“What the…?”
Tom was the first man out of the room, but Josh was right behind him, and he knew the rest of the family was hard at his heels.
They burst into the side yard just as Miz Babe got her son out of the backseat of Jackson’s pickup truck.
Wait a second. Had Denny been huddled on the floor?
Miz Babe had her son in her arms. She was pale, but her mouth was determined and the expression in her eyes fierce.
“Jack’s been shot, and it doesn’t look good.”
“Oh God.” Tom staggered, and Josh reached for him. “No, I’m okay. We’ve got to get to him.”
“Where’s my boyfriend?” Miss January shrilled.
Miz Babe grew even paler. “He’s in St. Mark’s.”
“The hospital? What did you do to him?”
“Shut up, Jan,” Miss Becca snapped.
Miss January’s eyes narrowed, and then she flounced back into the house.
“The paramedics said that’s where they were taking him. He was shot too. I don’t know how bad—I didn’t see what happened…”
“We’ll go to the hospital. Miz Babe, will you and Denny be all right here?”
“We’ll be fine, but make sure you have your house keys. I’m buttoning this place up tight.” She tossed Tom the keys to the truck as she shouldered past them, muttering under her breath.
Denny clung to her. He should have looked scared, but his expression was stoic.
“Josh, will you drive?” Tom held out his hands, which shook so hard he nearly dropped the keys.
“Sure thing, Tom.” Josh caught the keys with ease. He had never seen his unflappable friend so distressed, although it made sense, when Josh thought about it. As tough as Tom was, the man he loved more than anything in this world had been shot. “Okay. Everyone into the truck.”
Chapter 9
BABE HUSTLED DENNY into the room they shared. It only had a twin bed, but Tad and Rush had been kind enough to set up a trundle bed for the little boy.
“Ma?”
Babe looked around. In spite of herself, she was shaken. She’d faced a lot of shit, first in the foster system and then afterward, after she’d gotten Denny out of the Institute, but she’d never seen anyone get shot in front of her. There had been so much blood. And then Mopp had tossed Denny to her and shoved them both into the big store before going back to do what he could for Mr. Jackson, only to get shot himself.
“Are we going to leave?” Denny was only seven, but he was more self-possessed than most adults Babe knew.
“Yeah, kiddo, I think we are.” She pulled out the suitcase that had traveled with her from the time she left the last foster home when she’d turned eighteen and swung it up onto the bed. She’d never stayed in any one place for so long, but these people were so… so kind.
Well, except for that bitch January Stephens. For some reason, she thought Babe was interested in Mopp. Really? The guy was cute enough, but he was young. For a short time, Babe had had a man who’d been willing to do whatever he had to for her and the boy, and there was no way she’d ever settle for anything less.
Denny sat cross-legged on the trundle bed, hugging his teddy bear. “Where are we gonna go?”
“I think we’ll go back to DC and see Aunt Del.” She was pretty sure the men who’d tried to take Denny wouldn’t expect her to go right back into the dragon lady’s lair.
Denny nodded solemnly. “She’ll know what we should do.”
“Yes, she always—” Pounding on the bedroom door interrupted her. “Denny.”
She didn’t look around. She knew he’d have ducked into the closet and hidden himself in the far corner under some blankets Babe had placed there, just in case.
She got the suitcase out of sight under the bed and tucked the switchblade she was never without into her pocket, then went to the door. She’d learned a long time ago to be careful. There was no way she was going to open it just yet.
“Yes?” She was pleased at how steady her voice was.
“Open the damn door!” January screeched.
There was no getting around this. Babe opened the door. “What did you want, January?”
“I want you to get out of this house,” she spat. It was easy to see how distraught she was. Her hair was disheveled and her eyes were red from crying, “Everything was fine before you came here. Now Mr. Jack and Billy Bob have been shot.”
“Are you blaming me for what happened earlier?”
“Yes, I am. We don’t want you here!”
Babe didn’t flinch. She’d heard that all too often when she’d been in the foster system. “I’ll leave when Mr. Jackson and JT tell me to, and not before.”
January screeched again and launched herself at Babe, her fingers curled like claws. She and Babe were about the same height, but where January had graduated college and worked behind a desk, Babe’s life had been more rough and tumble, especially once Denny had come into her life. Babe grabbed January’s wrists and squeezed, and the screech turned into a cry and then a whimper as slender wrist bones grated together.
“Let me go! Let me go!”
“Listen to me, woman.” Babe’s voice was deadly serious as she gave January a shake. “You don’t want to screw with me. I’ve been around the block a time or two, and I know how to take care of myself.” She gave her a final shake and shoved her away.
“You… you witch!” January massaged her wrists, her eyes flooded with tears. “I’ll make you sorry!”
“You make me tired, woman. Get the fuck out of here.”
January gasped.
Really? She’d never heard that word before?
January ran out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.
Babe sighed. “You can come out now, Denny.”
He eased out of the closet cautiously, and then threw himself into her arms.
“It’s okay, kiddo.”
“I know.”
Dammit, he was so young to have to be so controlled. She stroked his curly brown hair. “Suppose you put your things in your backpack.”
Denny held on to her for a minute longer, then stepped back and put the teddy bear on the trundle bed. He opened the dresser drawer and took out his clothes.
“Ma?” His arms were filled to overflowing. He had more now than when they’d first arrived in Savannah.
“Pick out your newest clothes.” They’d fit him better and last longer.
“Okay.”
And she’d pack whatever didn’t fit in his backpack into her suitcase.
HALF AN HOUR later, another door slammed, and then there was the sou
nd of a car starting and gravel peppering the side of the house.
Babe shook her head. She’d miss the people who lived here, but that didn’t include January Stephens.
Chapter 10
THE DEMANDING CRY of a two-year-old woke Mary Margaret Burdett from a sound sleep.
She’d needed that nap. Eight months pregnant with their third child, she felt gross. Her belly was huge, her ankles were swollen, she was always tired, and she still suffered from morning sickness.
“Nicholas? Dear, can you see to Junior? He’s going to start Little Mary off—”
Sure enough, their daughter began to wail.
Mary Margaret sighed and remembered she’d asked her husband to go grocery shopping for her. She eased off the bed, then shuffled into the nursery. Junior needed a diaper change, and Little Marry needed a bottle, and why had she ever thought being married was a good idea?
Her back gave a twinge of discomfort, and she groaned as she swung Junior up onto the changing table. She had to deal with the soiled diaper, because she knew if she didn’t, the toddler was likely to smear poop all over the wall next to his crib.
And yes, she knew why she was in this situation. If her extremely religious parents ever discovered she’d suddenly found herself looking with lust in her heart at the young woman who played the organ at church, they’d have thrown her out of the house without even a change of clothes. And that wasn’t an exaggeration: they’d done it to her baby brother.
Certain it was a temporary aberration, Mary Margaret had been dismayed to realize it wasn’t. That was why she had agreed to go to lover’s lane with Nicholas Burdett, even though he was dating January Stephens at the time. She’d had a crush on him since she was a freshman in high school and he was a senior who, as everyone in town knew, had gotten a full football scholarship to Pulaski and Jasper, the local university.
She still had no idea why he’d asked her—she wasn’t certain if he knew himself—but after he’d parked beneath the lush trees that surrounded the area, he’d slid his fingers under the hem of her dress and walked them up her thigh. She knew, as a good girl, she should stop him, but she didn’t want to be a lesbian, so she didn’t put her hand on his and tell him no. And then he’d stroked a long finger over the crotch of her sensible white panties, and it felt so good, she spread her legs wider.
