She gave him a watery smile, her eyes the softest baby-blue. “Anything?”
“You know it.”
Trish lifted herself up onto her tip-toes. “Say it again, Keegan,” she whispered against his lips. “Say the second thing again.”
Keegan laughed, feeling unbelievably light and carefree despite all the utter crap that was currently surrounding them. “What – the ‘I love you’ thing?”
“That’s the thing.”
“I love you.” He kissed her over and over again, totally uncaring that they had a rapt audience of badasses. “I love you. I love you.”
“I love you too,” she said, breathless and happy as anything to be that way. “And thank you for promising to have my back.”
“No problem, baby.”
“OK, so,” Trish said to Dalton. “So yes… take him and pass judgement and carry it out. Dragon’s all yours.”
Before Dragon could manage yet another howl of hypocritical protest about being unfairly treated by someone, Jack pinned him to the floor, grinding his face into the wood. Dragon babbled incoherently and Trish saw that he was crying – actually weeping – at the realization that he’d lived his last day breathing free air and walking under an open sky. His freedoms were about to be taken away as easy as he’d trampled over and denied the rights and peace-of-mind of so many others, and Trish felt savagely glad that he finally knew how it felt to be utterly helpless.
“Always amazin’ how bullies fall to goddamn pieces when the bill comes due on their bullshit,” Keegan said, watching with satisfaction as Decker bawled like a giant baby, and then he grimaced as his shoulder gave a throb. Suddenly he felt sweaty and cold at the same time, his core a block of ice but his skin flaming and burning hot.
Aw, shit. I need to get to some help now.
Trish saw his face and she immediately stepped back and away from him; he was left with nothing but her sweet scent and a longing for more of her, for all of her, every goddamn inch. He gave her a regretful smile and a nod and she swung into efficient-slash-sexy nurse mode in a millisecond.
She turned to King. “You said something about having a doctor or someone medical on your team?”
“Yeah,” King said and pulled out his phone as he took in Keegan’s ashen face. “She’s on speed-dial.”
“I’ll take Keegan to her now,” she said. “Where do I go?”
King was already listening to the call ring, Jack was pulling a barely-conscious Dragon to his feet, and Dalton was looking somehow even more menacing than he had been up to this point as he approached his new farm guest. Keegan wanted more than anything on earth to hold Trish close and tight again, but he was able to feel nothing but the gun-shot and its effects now: he was lightheaded and nauseated and his whole left side hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. The adrenalin was wearing off, shock wasn’t setting in, and he was losing blood at an alarming rate.
Yeah, maybe it was time to get this piece of metal pulled out of his shoulder, get sewn back up, get some good drugs, get some sleep. Then hold her close and talk to her about anything and everything – because they had time to talk together. Hopefully the rest of their lives.
“You go with Dalton and this piece of human refuse,” King snapped to Jack as he disconnected the call. “I’ve got these two.”
“Wait!” Trish said looking at the blood and glass everywhere. “What about my friend’s house? They’re going to be back in a few days…”
“We got it,” King said.
“You – you do?”
“This ain’t our first rodeo, doll,” King said drily. “Believe me, me and my people know how to leave a space looking like nobody has set foot in it for years, let alone trashed it five minutes before. We’ll sort out Doreen’s house tomorrow, and we’ll also rip the tracker out of Decker’s rental car and then dump it where it’ll never be found.”
“Oh.” Trish stared at him, wondering just who the hell this guy really was, decided that all that mattered was that he was on her side. “Well… I’ll pay for all the repairs.”
“Nope,” King told her. “We’ll get paid in other ways.”
“How?”
“You don’t need to know.” He smiled at her. “In fact, it’s better if you don’t know.”
“Ah. Well… agreed.”
“Val is ready for you?” Jack said, changing the subject abruptly. “She knows you’re coming with a guy who needs surgery?”
“She’s ready and able to remove one bullet from one shoulder.” King came over and supported Keegan’s massive weight as if it was nothing at all. “Come on. I’m driving. Give Jack your car keys, Trish.”
“She’s a real doctor?” Trish fumbled with her purse, found her keys and handed them to Jack, not taking her eyes off Keegan for one second. “She can do this kind of surgery?”
“Valentina can pull slugs out of flesh as easy as you and me pull out a splinter.”
“Not totally comforting,” Trish muttered as she followed King and Keegan down the hall to the back door. “I can barely handle tweezers, let alone a scalpel.”
“It’s OK,” King told her in what was probably the most soothing tone of that terrifying voice. “Really. Val’s trained and professional and she’s got a surgical room in her house that’s totally stocked up with supplies and completely sterile. Keegan’s going to be fine, I promise you that.”
“And this asshole won’t be fine,” Dalton called from the other end of the hallway. “I can promise you that.”
“Good,” Trish said and pulled on her jacket as she walked out into the night. “Good to both things.”
Chapter 20
David ‘Shadow’ Jennings heard the approaching vehicle long before he actually saw it. He knew that it was probably Dalton with their newest low-life guest, but strict protocols were in place for a reason, so out he went to take a look anyway. His gun was snug and tight against his lower back, a reminder that it was there if needed. He’d never needed it before – not in the whole three years that he’d been working with Dalton – but hell. There was a first time for everything and nothing truly awful was truly impossible, Shadow knew that damn good and well and first-hand.
He narrowed his ocean-blue eyes as the vehicle appeared between the trees and he tensed: he didn’t recognize it at all. That was definitely not the black SUV that Dalton always used to deliver the new prisoners – Dalton referred to them as ‘packages’ – to the farm. This was a small, crappy red car that looked like it was on its last wheels. Shadow watched it drive closer, his hand on his lower back, then he saw Dalton’s dark head stick out of the passenger side window.
“Don’t shoot!” Dalton shouted. “It’s me and a guy from King’s outfit.”
Shadow relaxed now. He walked out to the top of the drive and watched as Dalton and a man with sandy-blond hair hauled their massive bodies out of the small vehicle; they made it look like a toy car and Shadow grinned to himself at the sight.
“Nice ride,” he commented in his guttural voice, the one that he had thanks to his destroyed vocal cords. “Where the hell did you pick this car up? And is it being held together by string or elastic bands?”
“It was a very weird package pick-up,” Dalton said. “The weirdest so far for sure. We had to make do with what was on hand.”
“Oh yeah?” Shadow said and looked at the unknown driver. He was definitely ex-military and if he worked for Matt Kingston, then he’d seen the worst of the goddamn worst. “Well… if one of King’s Men got involved, I can only imagine what went down.” He extended his hand. “Shadow Jennings.”
The man shook his hand, looking slightly taken aback at Shadow’s wrecked voice. “Jackson Taylor, but everyone just calls me Jack. And yeah, we King’s Men do tend to get ourselves in some tight spots. I think it’s part of the job description.”
“Good to meet you and I sure as hell hope that you all get sky-high danger pay. Now.” Shadow looked around, looked in the back seat of the car. “Where’s the guy whose company I�
�ll be graced with for – what?” He looked at Dalton. “How long?”
“This guy’s a fucking peach, man,” Dalton said. “You’ll be enjoying his presence for years.”
“Ah,” Shadow said. “So he’s jammed in the trunk?”
“And lucky to be there.” Dalton shook his head. “I was tempted to drag him behind the car but you know – witnesses and questions.”
“Gotcha.”
“Are you a doctor?” Jack asked him. “Dalton said that you can take care of medical emergencies?”
“I’m not,” Shadow said. “But we have a guy who’s always on call, named Zack. Has his own practice but he comes out here all stealthy-like whenever we need him. Is he needed with our new guest?”
“Sure as hell is,” Dalton said as he popped the trunk and yanked a man out bodily. Shadow looked at him as he lay in a crumpled heap on the ground, his legs tied with rope, and he zeroed in right away on the bloody towel wrapped around the man’s right hand.
“Aha, yes,” he commented casually, the same way that he’d observe that it was a nice day. “Hand injury.”
“Injury?” the guy howled. “Injury like hell! That fucking crazy bitch shot my hand off!”
"Did she?” Shadow said. “By any chance, did you deserve to have your hand shot off?”
“Fuck off, prick,” the guy growled.
“He’s utterly charming,” Shadow said to Dalton. “I’m guessing that he’s lucky that he didn’t get his dick shot off. Am I right?”
“You’re right,” Dalton said, tossing Dragon’s wallet to Shadow. “Meet Callum ‘Dragon’ Decker from Los Angeles: rapist, drugger and abuser of women, pornographer, blackmailer, extortionist and all-round scumbag, and that’s just the shit that I know about. Earlier this evening, he had a gun pointed at the young lady that he’d filmed getting drugged, beaten up and raped by himself and another asshole. Oh… and then he used that video to blackmail her for almost two years before posting it online anyway. Just to completely fuck up her life some more.”
“Seriously?” Shadow looked up from perusing the wallet’s contents.
“You know it. She shot his hand to get him to drop a gun that he had pointed at her boyfriend.”
“And she didn’t shoot him in the face or the dick,” Shadow mused. “The woman is one small step down from sainthood.”
“Well,” Jack said. “She did consider it but in the end, she decided to give him to Dalton. And you too, I guess.”
“Yep. I’m the day shift here. Have been for a few years.”
“Speaking of years.” Dalton hauled Dragon to his feet and cocked his head at him. “Hmmm. Lemme think what you deserve.”
“You can’t –” Dragon began.
“I sure as hell can,” Dalton retorted. “So let’s consider the legal maximum for each charge… for drugging, beating up and raping Trish, I sentence you to fifteen years. For blackmail and extortion, another five; for holding her and Keegan at gunpoint and threatening them, two more. And for posting that pornographic video online without Trish’s consent, another three. So that’s, what? Twenty-five, right?”
“Twenty-five years,” Shadow confirmed. “Feels a bit low though, doesn’t it? Sometimes the legal maximum is disappointing, especially for crimes like rape.”
“It’ll do,” Jack said. “And I guess unlike the prison system, there’s no time off for good behavior? He serves every second?”
“Damn right,” Dalton said. “No shortcuts here and no easy-outs. Here, people pay their debts to society and to their victims in full.”
“What the fuck?” Dragon said, clutching what remained of his hand. “You can’t –”
Once again Dalton cut him off: “I can and I have, with Trish Montgomery’s blessing. It’s done.” He glanced down at his watch and nodded. “Enjoy your twenty-five years, starting from this very minute on this very day.”
“No!” Dragon started to scream. “No!”
“Yes,” Dalton said simply. He nodded at Shadow who came and started dragging a resisting, screaming Dragon away to the huge barn. Dalton raised his voice a bit so that his words could be heard over Dragon’s bellowing:
“Callum Decker, welcome to ‘V’.” He glanced at Jack who was grinning. “Huh. Maybe I do need a welcome sign over the door. What do you think?”
“It’d be a nice, homey touch,” Jack agreed pulling out his cell. “I’ll call King now, get him up to speed.”
“Good. And let me know how Keegan’s doing, OK?”
“I will.” Jack paused, looked at Dalton closely. “And based on the fact that you and King had a long private talk in the parking lot before all hell broke loose tonight, I get the feeling that we’ll be all working together quite a bit in the future.”
“Yeah,” Dalton said. “We definitely will.”
**
The surgery room door opened and Trish looked up, her heart in her throat. She was sure that Valentina was a capable person to remove the bullet from Keegan’s shoulder – the woman was utterly terrifying in a sexy Russian spy sort of way, complete with razor-sharp cheekbones and full lips and zero-nonsense icy demeanor – but that didn’t mean that Trish wasn’t going to worry. Despite Keegan being all casual on the drive over and la-la-la about being shot, and despite him having gone through far worse injuries before, the fact was that the man had been shot. Like shot with a gun.
It’s not like that was a totally normal, day-to-day occurrence. At least not in Trish’s world. So, she was going to go ahead and worry if she wanted to.
Trish and King got to their feet and waited for Valentina to come over to them. She lowered her white face mask and then removed the cap that she was wearing: her lustrous black hair fell over her slim shoulders in a shiny waterfall and Trish wanted to sigh. Damn the woman was stunning.
“How is he, Val?” King asked in his rough voice. “You got the whole slug out?”
“He’s really fine and yes,” Valentina replied, her words made extra musical by her accent and odd placement of stresses on her words. “It wasn’t deep at all and it hit nothing of any importance. He’ll be sore for a few weeks as he heals, but there will no lasting damage.”
“Oh, thank God.” Trish sighed. “Is he awake now?”
Valentina looked at Trish, her eyes a deeper, richer purple than Trish’s own, eyes that could bring men to their knees and slay with a single glance. “No. He’s resting. If you want to sit with him, of course you can.”
“Thank you. Thank you for everything.”
Trish contemplated shaking Val’s hand, but decided that this Slavic goddess would probably freeze her where she stood with her icy perfection. Trish settled for giving her a bright, shining smile of sheer gratitude and wasn’t surprised that all she got in return was a chilly nod. With a mental shrug, Trish went into the small room that Val had set up in her home as a sterile medical space, complete with surgical table and instruments, medicines and equipment that Trish was sure would comfortably grace any top-quality ER in the country.
She paused a few feet into the room, stared at Keegan. She’d never seen him as a small man and never thought of him as frail, but he looked somehow diminished lying on that pristine white bed, surrounded by stainless steel implements and tools. A wave of affection just washed over her and Trish realized that she could have lost him that night. She could have lost him forever.
She must have made some kind of noise – or maybe he just sensed her silent presence – because he opened his eyes and gazed over at her. Right away, Trish was transfixed by that silver stare, like being caught in a cascading river of moonlight.
Keegan smiled and reached out his hand. Without even a second of thought, Trish rushed across the room and grasped it.
“Hey, baby,” he said in a slur that made her think that he had to be on some damn good drugs. “How you doin’?”
“Better now that I’ve seen you.” With her free hand she reached over and pushed his hair off his forehead. “How do you feel? Are you in a
ny pain?”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “Whatever Val gave me, it’s good shit. Don’t feel nothin’ right now and I don’t mind at all.” He stopped suddenly and gave her a long, searching stare. “You’re so pretty.”
Trish giggled and perched on the edge of the bed. “I kind of love stoned Keegan.”
“You do, huh?”
“Yeah. He’s sweet and funny.”
“Is not.” He scowled and looked like he was having trouble focusing on her. “He’s badass and dark.”
“Oh, sure.” She shook her head at him in an affectionate gesture. “Sure he is.”
On impulse, Trish he leaned over to give him a small, teasing kiss on the nose… but he suddenly snapped out of his dopey, laid-back vibe. Before she quite knew where she was, she was locked in his strong embrace, pressed against that broad chest, his lips on hers. It escalated quickly – from hot kissing to fever pitch squirming to get as close as possible – in seconds. His kisses were the most perfect little miracles that she could imagine, and all she could think about as he traced her lips with his tongue was how the hell did I live without this, even just for a few days?
He surprised her again now and flipped her over and under him. Even as her whole traitorous body melted and moulded to his, Trish made a sound of protest that was pretty damn feeble even to her own ears.
“Keegan.” She forced her mouth away from his and he promptly grazed her throat with his teeth. She shuddered as he softly nipped at her delicate skin, then summoned her sanity before it went plummeting all the way off the cliff. “Keegan. Wait, OK? Just – hold on.”
He propped his head in his hand. “What’s up, baby? Besides the obvious, I mean.”
Trish felt desire just pour through her as she felt his thick hardness against her thigh. God, what it felt like to have this man inside her – her body would never, ever forget the wild sweetness of it.
Keegan (Wounded Hero Book 1) Page 32