No.
My nose stung, my eyes filled with wet.
“No,” I bit out. “You’re with me. Stay with me.”
“Ambulance, immediately. Man down at ninety-seven Ponderosa Road. Get them here now,” Chace bit out.
“Do it at your side, gypsy,” Deke said softly, his voice fading.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, honey. Yes. Wither to dust. At my side.”
“Yeah,” he breathed out.
His eyes closed.
“Deke,” I called.
“Jussy, roll off, let us get in,” Chace said, hand on my shoulder.
I ignored Chace, shook Deke’s head, called out, “Baby.”
“Jussy, need you to roll off, sweetheart.”
I shook Deke’s head again.
His eyes stayed closed.
“Deke!” I shrieked.
His eyes stayed closed.
Chace pulled me off, up, into his arms.
I struggled and screamed.
But fucking fuck, he was stronger than me.
Two officers went in and worked on him.
I kept struggling.
The ambulance came.
I got my shit together so they wouldn’t think I’d lost it and they’d let me ride with him.
It didn’t matter. Chace made them let me ride with him.
So, rushing out behind the gurney still pulling on my boots, I rode with him.
They took him from me at the hospital.
The whole time going there, they worked, they did it urgently, the words they said to each other and in their radios I blocked out because I could feel it.
I could feel it.
And Deke didn’t open his eyes.
* * * * *
Tate
Tate heard the woman screaming the minute he hit the doors of the emergency room.
It sounded nothing like her.
He still knew it was Justice.
His stomach dropped for the second time that night, the first one happening when he got the call from Chace.
Pulling his wife with him, feeling Jonas at his heels, with fast strides, he moved to the noise and stopped dead, his woman at his side, when he saw Justice, covered in blood, cornered, eyes wild, mouth a snarl, squaring off against three members of the hospital staff.
“Sir, please move away,” one of them said, catching Lauren, Jonas and Tate there.
“We’re friends of hers,” Tate told him.
“Tell them to get away,” Justice snapped. “Tate, tell them to leave me alone.”
Tate looked to Justice.
“They want to clean my hands,” she bit at him. “They want to take him from me. They don’t get him. I’m keeping him.” She wrapped her arms around her middle. “I’m keeping him until they give him back to me.”
He heard Laurie make a noise, felt her make a move but he looked down at her and shook his head.
“She needs to get cleaned up, sir, and she needs a sedative. She was there when—” one of the staffers started.
“Leave me with her,” Tate ordered.
“She’s exhibited signs she might get violent,” the man went on.
Tate spared him a glance and clipped, “Leave her with me.”
Tate felt the man’s gaze. He hesitated, but backed off, though only a couple of steps, the other two following.
Tate went to a standing gurney not close to Justice but closer than he’d been.
He hauled his ass up on it, opened his thighs, doing all this eyes locked on Justice.
When he got there, he said gently, “C’mere, Jussy.”
“Don’t make me wash him away, Tate,” she snapped.
“Honey, come here.”
“I’m keeping him with me,” she shot back.
“Jussy, right now, where would Deke want you to be?” he asked. “Who would he want minding you? Tell me.”
She did a shuffle step away from him, turning her shoulder, keeping eye contact over it.
Fuck, she was fucked up, in shock, way beyond tweaked.
“Deke was here right now, Jussy, who would he want taking care of you?” Tate asked quietly.
She hesitated, looked around, took in the staffers, Lauren, Jonas, then back to him when she answered, “You.”
“Yeah. Me. Now c’mere.”
Another shuffle step, this one toward him. And another.
Then she turned fully to him. Ducking her head, her long hair falling down either side, she hit him head first, right at his collarbone, and drove in.
He wrapped his arms around her.
Lauren got close behind Justice, lifted her hand, hesitated, looked at her man and Tate gave her a short nod. Jonas just got near, and when Tate glanced at him, he saw his boy’s eyes locked to his old man.
Laurie moved in closer and started stroking Justice’s hair.
Her touch set Justice to talking.
“I don’t know if I did wrong. He told me to run. But I heard gunshots. I called Chace. But Deke was in there. Unarmed. They had guns. And I wanted him to have his gun.”
“You didn’t do wrong,” Tate said, not knowing what went down, if what he said was a lie, or the truth.
What it was was what she needed to hear right then.
Though calling Chace was the right thing.
“Then I saw it was Rudy. My cousin. I thought I could talk him down. We’re Lonesomes. He wouldn’t hurt me. No matter how fucked up he was, he wouldn’t hurt me.”
“I can see you thinkin’ that.”
“He…he…didn’t mind hurting me.”
Tate knew that to be true but he didn’t say anything.
“I got Deke the gun,” she whispered.
“Right, honey.”
“But I’m worried I did wrong.”
“Got lots of worries right now, Jussy. Why don’t you let that one go for now?”
“He tackled me.”
“Who? Your cousin?”
“He tackled me,” she repeated.
“Jussy—”
She burrowed in, fuck, so strong, she almost took his back to the gurney.
Tate braced, wrapped her tight and shifted his gaze to his wife’s anguished eyes.
“He didn’t tackle me,” Justice whispered, her voice fracturing. “He shielded me.”
That was when she went down, knees failing.
Tate caught her as she fell, pulled her up, swung her out and settled her in his lap.
She cried in his neck, holding on tight.
She was limp, almost lifeless when she’d cried herself out.
He coaxed her to take the sedative. As she got drowsy, he and Laurie helped her wash her hands. As she’d been crying, Lauren made the calls, got through to Twyla who hadn’t left yet. When she arrived, they got Jussy’s jacket off, her bloody shirt, and changed her into one of Twyla’s sweaters.
She didn’t lapse into sleep until they were in the waiting room and she did this collapsed into Tate’s side, holding the bundle of her bloody clothes tight to her chest like a child would a teddy bear.
He moved her head to his thigh, Krys shifting in to lift her legs, curl her up on the seat beside him. And Lexie covered her with Ty’s jacket.
Everyone showed, including Chace.
He reported the two men who invaded Justice’s home were both DOA.
Eventually, a lot of the folks who showed left. They had little kids. They had to get home.
It was the early hours of the morning when the surgeon came out.
Deke pulled through. But he’d lost a tremendous amount of blood, took four bullets, the damage was extensive, and he was in critical condition.
As he spoke carefully, uncomfortably, words he didn’t have to say because his manner screamed it, the surgeon shared they could not make any guarantees. If he lasted twenty-four hours, something left unspoken but it was clear the doctor did not think that would happen, then there might be hope.
“But, think it’s best, if he’s of that religion, that you call for
Last Rites,” the man finished solemnly.
This made Nadine, Cindy and Lauren all lose it, Twyla, Jim-Billy and Jonas moving in to give them comfort.
They all did that quietly.
Tate couldn’t offer his wife that comfort.
He just felt his stomach squeeze, the intensity of the pain forcing sick to surge up his throat.
But he swallowed it back and did what his brother would want him to do.
He sat immobile, Jussy’s head still on his thigh, his fingers shifting through her hair soothingly even though she was still fast asleep.
At least she’d missed that.
At least.
* * * * *
Tate woke with a start, his body’s movement bringing Laurie’s head up from his shoulder.
He stared into the room, not knowing where the fuck he was for a moment before he saw Jim-Billy, head bowed down, baseball cap pulled over his eyes, asleep in a chair in the hospital waiting room across from Tate, Nadine tucked to his side. And down from them, Jonas stretched out on chairs, arm over his head to block out the light, asleep.
He looked right and saw Krys walking in, her movements agitated, Bubba following her, Breanne strapped in swaddling to the big man’s chest.
For a second, Tate stared at Krys, thrown. He knew where he was. He knew why he was there. He hated it like fuck.
But he’d never in his life seen Krys without makeup, her hair straggling down straight, looking just washed, dried, but untouched.
He got over that, turned his head left and saw Twyla standing at the end of the row of seats, eyes aimed out the window, Cindy in a seat, eyes open, on Krys, but she was leaning into her woman.
“Word?” Krys rapped out.
Fuck, he was going to have to tell her.
Fuck.
She’d been gone, home with Bubba and their new baby, when the surgeon came.
Tate started to get up but felt Lauren’s hand curl on his thigh.
He looked to his wife.
“Where’s Jussy?” she asked.
His head shot around to the row of seats behind him.
Ty’s jacket laid there, the bundle of bloody clothes there too.
No Jussy.
He looked to Twyla.
“You see her leave?” he asked sharply.
Twyla’s face shifted, mouth opened, but it was Cindy who answered.
“We both woke up a couple of minutes ago. Didn’t think, Tate, except maybe she had to go to the bathroom or something.”
Jim-Billy was stirring, pushing his ball cap back, Nadine lifting from his side sleepily, Jonas hearing the conversation, pushing up into a hand, and Tate rose from his chair.
He headed to the hall, knowing from the sound of footfalls there was a parade behind him.
He hit the nurse’s station outside the Critical Care Unit.
“Can I help you?” the nurse there asked.
“Jussy—” he bit out, stopped abruptly and started again. “Deke Hightower, a friend of mine, he’s here.”
“I know, sir, he’s still—”
Tate interrupted her. “His woman was sedated when the doctor told us his condition. We’ve been in the waiting room, woke up, she’s not with us. Have you seen her?”
Her expression altered to understanding as she said quietly, “Ms. Lonesome has been informed of his condition and she’s in with him.”
“Dammit,” Tate muttered under his breath.
It was him who should have told her.
It was him Deke would have wanted to tell her.
Fuck.
“Take us to him,” Krys demanded. “Take us all to them.”
The nurse shook her head. “Only one visitor at a time in this unit, sorry.”
Laurie pushed closer to the station. “You need to take us all to him.”
“It’s policy that—”
“He needs his friends around him,” Laurie whispered, a hitch in her voice, and Tate rounded her belly with an arm, pulling her back to him.
“It’s not—” the nurse began.
“Please,” Lauren begged.
The nurse took them all in and Tate was grateful at the same time agonized at what it meant when she slowly nodded her head.
“I’ll need you to be as quiet as you can. I’ll also need you all to wash your hands and put booties on. And I’m sorry, sir, no babies.”
“You all go. I’ll take Breanne,” Cindy said hurriedly, already coming forward, helping Bubba unwrap the swaddling.
The handoff happened. The nurse took them to the sterilization station. They washed their hands and put on booties.
Tate was holding Lauren steady as she put hers on when the nurse murmured, “What’s that?”
But he heard it.
And Tate knew what it was.
He moved swiftly toward the sound, followed by Laurie, Jonas, Krys, Twyla, Jim-Billy, Nadine and Bubba.
He stopped just in the door.
They pressed in behind him.
The nurse got there before him, was deeper in the room, and she opened her mouth to speak.
Tate darted out a hand, curled it on her shoulder and her eyes came to him.
He shook his head and mouthed, “Please.”
She didn’t look like she liked it but she said nothing and turned her eyes to the bed.
Tate did too.
Deke was in it, the bulk of his body, his hair and his eyes the only way Tate knew that it was his brother in that bed. His face was mostly obscured by the apparatus at his mouth, a tube down his throat, more leading to it, more in his arms, the back of the bed slightly elevated. He had no hospital gown, sheet and blanket around his waist, his upper body naked but there wasn’t much you could see since all of it was wrapped in bandages.
Jussy was seated in a chair at his side.
She was leaned into him and she was singing.
He’d never heard the song and would only know what it was and who sang it days later, when Laurie would find it, play it for him, and they would listen to it, his wife weeping in his arms.
The Goo Goo Dolls, “Come to Me.”
Lauren couldn’t watch. Tate knew it when she curled into his front, shoving her face in his chest, and it didn’t take long for the wet of her silent tears to soak his Henley.
But Tate didn’t tear his gaze off Jussy, a woman so in love with her man, in this situation it was so difficult to witness it actually made his eyes hurt, keeping them on her. Listening to her beautiful voice wrapping around words, each one full of love and hope and belief, each one spearing right through his fucking heart in a way it was a wonder the wet of his life blood didn’t mix with the salt of his wife’s tears.
He curled a hand around the back of Laurie’s head, his other arm around her waist, pulling her closer right before Jussy reached out and picked up Deke’s hand.
She brought it to her mouth and she started singing in husky, broken whispers when the lyrics became about getting to the church on time.
Tate watched her open his hand, curling it on her face, singing into his palm like her song could keep the pulse beating at its base.
Suddenly, she slumped forward, forcing Deke’s hand to sift into the hair at the back of her head. Her forehead hit the side of his bed and she finished the song, the lilt of desperate hope gone in her voice, nothing but sorrow remaining, as she sang the final words, all this clenching Deke’s fingers with hers in the back of her hair.
Something struck him.
Tate tore his gaze off Jussy and took it to Deke.
His friend had his eyes open and there was no missing the question in them.
Tate nodded his head slowly, sharing that yes, he was taking care of Deke’s woman.
Deke nodded back more slowly, only once, then his eyes shifted down to the woman he called his gypsy.
He must have done something, moved his fingers in her hair, because Jussy’s head shot back so fast, all that hair went flying.
Tate let out a tortured breath.
The one he pulled in felt a lot fucking better.
And then he smiled.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I Know
Wood
“The small town of Carnal, Colorado is back in the news today with a fatal shooting happening at the home of critically acclaimed singer-songwriter, Justice Lonesome, daughter of rock legend, the late Johnny Lonesome,” the newscaster said.
Looking into the camera, pictures on the screen to the right side of her head shifting from Jus, to Johnny, the newscaster for the Denver station kept speaking as the picture again switched to one of a wiry guy who could have been good-looking, if he wasn’t so gaunt, being led somewhere by a cop with his hands back in cuffs.
“Rudy Lonesome Smith, the estranged son of Justice’s aunt, Tammy Lonesome, allegedly broke into Justice Lonesome’s home in order to steal the fabled collection of Johnny and his father, Jerry’s guitars. Rudy Smith has become well-known in the media the last decade through a variety of run-ins with the law, all of them drug related. It’s been confirmed that he was killed at the scene, along with a partner, currently unidentified, after firing on Justice Lonesome and her live-in boyfriend, Deke Hightower, Mr. Hightower reportedly firing back in self-defense.”
The screen flashed to footage from down Jussy’s lane, only the front of her drive visible, her house hidden by trees, as uniformed officers stood sentry at the mouth of the lane, keeping the reporters and cameramen back. In the distance, cops milled around in the drive.
The newscaster’s voice kept coming.
“A statement from the hospital reports that Mr. Hightower was shot four times during the clash. He’s survived surgery but is currently listed in critical condition. A statement from Carnal Police notes Justice Lonesome called the report in, squad cars were instantly dispatched but the two intruders were dead on arrival of the police. Carnal authorities also report that preliminary findings indicate that Mr. Hightower shielded Ms. Lonesome while the shots were being fired in her home, which was why he sustained so many injuries, however Ms. Lonesome is said to have been unharmed.”
The screen went back to the newscaster as she kept reporting, a picture now of Jussy’s aunt next to her head.
“Tammy Lonesome’s people have released a statement on her behalf, sharing her deep sadness at this heartbreaking end to her son’s life, a man who has been riddled with troubles due to drug addiction, these starting after a failed attempt to find success in the family business. She and her husband are now on their way to Colorado to claim the remains of their troubled son and join her brother Jimmy there so they can also be with their niece during this terrible time.”
Bounty Page 54
