by Ann Simko
Dakota ignored him as he grunted and sweated with the efforts of pumping stagnant blood through a lifeless heart.
Montana grabbed his hands. "Stop it. He's gone."
Dakota tore his hands away. "No!" He glared at Montana, and then at the man on the floor. Pink froth had bubbled up and leaked from his mouth. His skin had taken on a bluish cast, and his eyes were dull and lifeless. Dakota knew Montana was right, and slumped back on his heels in defeat. "What the hell just happened?"
Montana motioned to Ito. "We need to get this kid out of here, now."
Ito nodded. "Give me a minute." He took out his phone.
Ivey came to Dakota's side and gave him a hand up. "The Sheriff's on the way, and the supervisor notified the State Police. They should have someone here shortly."
Dakota nodded absently. Death was a frequent visitor in this place, but not like this. When Ivey stepped around the dead man on the floor, he just stared at her.
"I still have a patient to take care of," she told him. She sounded all tough and in control, but Dakota saw her hands shake as she tried to reset the blood pressure cuff on the monitor. She pushed a wrong button and a screen she didn't want came up. When she went to cancel it, she hit another wrong button. "Shit!" she swore under her breath and jumped when Dakota came up behind her, gently pushed her hand down and reprogrammed the monitor.
"It's ok." He gave her a sideways glance. "I won't tell anyone, promise."
Ivey sniffed and wiped at her face before putting the professional mask back in place. "Thanks."
Though all this, Ricco had lain in a state of drug-induced bliss, wonderfully unaware that his life had once again been in the balance.
"We need to move now. Unhook him." Montana motioned to the IV tubing and other equipment attached to Ricco.
"What?" Dakota snapped out of his stupor. "No, you can't just take him."
Ito began unhooking Ricco from the monitor.
"What do you think you're doing?" Ivey regained her composure and reached across the bed. She slapped Ito's hands away and started hooking up what Ito had just unhooked. She glared at him as she worked. "I told you not to touch anything. I wasn't kidding." She pointed a finger at his face. "I might be little, but trust me, you do not want to mess with me."
Ito met her threat with a smile and calmly pushed her hands out of the way. "My dear, lady, if this were not a matter of great urgency, I assure I would be unduly terrified, but believe me, we both want the same thing, to protect Private Ricco." Once again he began unhooking Ricco.
Ivey turned to Dakota and held her hands out as if to say, Well, don't just stand there, do something!
"Montana?" Dakota wasn't sure whose side to take.
Montana ignored him and handed Ito the keys to his Jeep. "I parked next to you. Bring it to the front entrance and keep your eyes open. Guys like that never come alone. He had a partner. I don't have to tell you what to do if you find him. Try to keep it quiet, but make noise if you have to."
Dakota grabbed Montana's sleeve and whipped him around. "What are you doing Montana?"
Montana gave him one seething glance, and continued giving orders. "Just do it, Ito. We'll meet you at the entrance in five."
Ito gave him a nod, winked at Ivey then turned and jogged out.
Ivey's brow creased. "You can't really be thinking about letting them just take him?"
"Montana, Cal will be here any minute, I think—"
"Enough." Montana didn't need to raise his voice. His tone demanded instant attention and unquestioned obedience. "There is no time for this. Some very bad people sent this man in here to kill your patient. It was luck we were here to stop it. If they'd known about Ito they wouldn't have tried the soft approach. Trust me when I tell you that next time—and there will be a next time—they will not be so subtle."
"Cal can put guards on the door, or maybe the State Troopers..."
"The next time, Dakota, they will come in and take out anyone who gets in their way. That includes Cal's guards, State Troopers—" He glanced at Ivey. "—or any nurses who try to stop them. If Ricco stays here, people are going to die.
"You saw that bunker and those bodies. These people are well organized, well financed, and obviously have no problems killing a cop."
Montana motioned toward the dead man on the floor. "He was willing to kill himself instead of being taken. Failure is not an option for them, and that makes them more dangerous than you want to think about. Take a look around," he said to Ivey. "None of you will alive by morning if he stays."
Ivey paled a bit, but kept up a tough front. "He's kidding, right?" she asked Dakota.
"I don't think he knows how to kid."
Ivey blinked several times and then whirled around and started pulling the last of the monitor leads off Ricco's chest.
Dakota stepped over the dead man. "I'll finish this. Get me a wheelchair, his meds, something for pain, and some dressing supplies for later."
He shut the monitor off and capped Ricco's IV. Now his hands were shaking. "I'm going to lose my license over this."
When Ricco was free from all the equipment, Montana put the side rail down, wrapped him in a blanket and then, gently picked him up. Ricco looked incredibly fragile in contrast.
While Montana waited for the wheelchair, he locked eyes with his brother. "He could lose his life."
"I hate it when you're right."
"Yeah, I know."
Ivey came back and positioned the wheelchair. Montana gently lowered Ricco into it. The boy's eyes fluttered but didn't open. Ivey took a bag of supplies hanging from the back of the chair and placed it in Ricco's lap. She bent down and placed Ricco's feet in the foot rests and tucked the blanket around his shoulders. "Where are you taking him?" she asked Dakota.
He looked to Montana, who just raised his eyebrows. "I haven't a clue. It's probably best if you don't know." He blew out a breath. "Look, just keep everyone clear of this room and let Cal handle it."
"Handle it? He's going to have a coronary over it."
Montana's phone rang. He listened, nodded and didn't look happy. He ended the call. "We're moving." When he unlocked the chair's wheels, Dakota stayed where he was. Montana looked over his shoulder as he pushed Ricco out of the room. "Now, Dakota. Ito's in place and Cal's on the way."
Dakota jogged a few steps to catch up and then hesitated. He scribbled his cell phone number on a scrap of paper and gave it to Ivey. "If Cal gives you any grief, let me know and I'll take care of it."
"If he gives me any grief?" Ivey shook her head.
Dakota shrugged. "Hey, take care of yourself, okay?" He gave her a wave and ran to catch up with Montana, who was waiting at the service elevator. As they pushed Ricco inside and the doors closed, they could hear Cal already screaming as he got out of the public elevator around the corner. "Thomas, get your ass out here boy."
Montana stared at the descending numbers. "And you wanted to stay."
"Momentary insanity."
Montana pushed the stop button and the car jerked to a sudden stop. "You good with this?"
"No." They had been back together for less than twenty-four hours, and they were where they always seemed to end up. In trouble.
Montana gave him one of his half-cocked smiles. "Good. Just wanted to make sure. Hey?"
Dakota saw the smile change to concern. "What?"
"I won't let anything happen to the kid, or you for that matter. You know that." It wasn't a question but a simple statement of fact.
Dakota sighed. "Yeah. I do know that."
"You brought me into this. If you want out, just say so. You can still walk back up there and face Cal and the State troopers. But if you come with us, know this—it's for the long haul. You can't decide you want out because things are getting uncomfortable."
Dakota looked from his brother to Michael Ricco.
"Somebody wants him dead," Montana said. "If these people find out you are helping him, they will take you down without a moment's hesita
tion. Understand that now."
Dakota swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and put his hand on the red stop button. He paused for a moment. How did it suddenly come to this? His entire future decided in one moment. He knew what he had to do. He wondered how the hell he was going to pay off his student loans without a job. He pushed the button and sent the elevator on its way.
"You sure?" Montana said.
"Hell no, I'm not sure. I'm not sure about any of this," Dakota ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath.
The elevator doors opened, and Montana pushed Ricco out. Dakota paused, and then he made his decision. He couldn't leave Michael Ricco anymore than he could leave his brother.
Chapter 8
Dakota helped settle Ricco into the back seat of Montana's Jeep and took the seat next to him. "Exactly where are we going?"
"Someplace safe," Montana said.
"That's so comforting." Dakota buckled Ricco's seat belt. The boy opened his eyes, but was groggy and more than a little out of it. "I don't suppose you would care to be more specific?"
Montana turned to face him. "From time to time, it's necessary to keep a client out of sight for a day or two. Ito has a friend who helps me out. It's an unregistered address, a place where they can't find us. At least not right away."
"He'll be safe there?"
Montana and Ito exchanged glances. "Yeah, for a little while, but the kid's got to talk to me, Dakota. I can't help him if I don't know what the hell is going on. Right now, all I know for sure is some heavy-weight paramilitary group has been holding him against his will, and they want him back, or they want him dead. Neither of those options works for me." He waited for that to sink in before continuing. "When he wakes up, he'll tell me everything. I may not be gentle about getting the answers, and I need you to be okay with that."
Dakota knew his brother's gift for understatement, and a sudden image of when they were kids slammed into his head. Their mother was at work, which gave nine-year-old Dakota and ten-year-old Montana plenty of time to get into trouble.
Montana had convinced him that the gently sloping roof of their single level adobe house wasn't that far off the ground, and if he took his skateboard down at just the right angle it should be a cool ride. Dakota was doubtful, but didn't want to receive the look from his brother. Twenty minutes later he found himself climbing out his bedroom window and up the slope to the peak of the roof. It sure as hell looked plenty high to him.
When the fall broke his leg, Montana refused to accept any blame, saying it was all Dakota's fault for not landing right.
"What exactly is 'not gentle'? I won't let you hurt him. I can't."
In Montana's world, anything was possible and not gentle could range from a slap in the face to some serious blood-letting.
"Not my style. I won't touch him. He might not like what I'm asking him, but he's going to tell me what he knows. Do you understand?" Ito made a sharp turn, and Ricco moaned as his injured shoulder pressed against the door.
Montana eyed him, and then turned away from Dakota without waiting for an answer.
Dakota spent the rest of the hour-long car ride lost in his thoughts and wondering exactly what Montana meant.
He understood his brother better than anyone. At least, he used to. Montana had tried to run away from who he was for most of his life, trying to exorcise the demons of his past, only to find that the demons were an inescapable part of what made him who he was. Their father had never been a part of their lives and their mother had never seen fit to tell them about the man, even when Montana demanded the answers from her. Lilly Thomas was the one person who could stand up to Montana's anger.
Montana had reacted in typical fashion, for Montana. He cut their mother out of his life and searched for a father he never knew. What he found was that some truths are better left unknown, and some secrets and best never revealed.
Dakota had watched Montana suffer for a truth that never existed, and he'd watched him make peace with that reality. It had not been an easy time in either of their lives. But it was that unspoken bond between them that gave Dakota the courage to trust his brother now, when every fiber of his being told him this was wrong.
He turned his attention to his patient and couldn't help but wonder what twisted turn of fate had brought Michael Ricco into their lives. He looked so peaceful and innocent, with his head slumped on his chest and his eyes closed. His blond hair was cropped high and tight, and there was a dusting of freckles over the bridge of his nose.
The innocence he conveyed in sleep was in stark contrast to the fear Dakota saw in his eyes last night in the ER. He looked like a farm boy. That's how Dakota thought of him. A farm boy in one hell of a lot trouble. He didn't think Ricco knew just how fortunate he was that Montana had decided to own him.
The Jeep turned onto a single-lane dirt road. Dakota had tried to keep track of where they were going, but the last few turns lost him completely. The rear view was nothing but a cloud of dust, and all he saw through the front windshield was empty desert. He was about to ask if they knew where they were going, when Ito drove the Jeep off a slight rise in the rock-strewn excuse for a road and a house came into view. It sat in a shallow ravine, hidden from sight by the natural rock formations that surrounded it.
Dakota could not imagine what would possess someone to build a house this far away from anything. The headlights revealed faded, peeling paint that clung stubbornly to the exterior and gave evidence that no one had lived there in a long time. Yucca and sagebrush had taken over the path that led to the front porch, which had a noticeable lean to one side. He had serious doubts about whether it was sturdy enough to withstand their weight. He groaned under his breath. "Great, the five-star accommodations."
Ito drove up to the front of the house and turned off the engine, but left the headlights on. With the sudden stop, Ricco opened his eyes and blinked. He wiped his good hand over his face and squinted as if the dome light hurt his eyes.
Montana turned. "Welcome home, Private Ricco." He got out and circled the Jeep to open Ricco's door.
Ricco looked at Montana and blinked like an owl in the sunlight.
Ito stood just behind Montana, while Dakota helped Ricco out. For one moment, just before Montana touched him, Ricco turned his head to look at Dakota. Ricco's face paled, his eyes widened. It was the same look Dakota had seen on his face as he hid behind a storage bin in the ER, clutching scissors as a weapon.
"Hey, Michael—" Dakota was about to tell Ricco that it was all right, that he was safe, but he never got the chance.
Ricco lunged for the gun holstered at Montana's shoulder and pulled the weapon free.
Dakota witnessed an amazing thing—Montana taken by surprise.
Ricco stood barefoot in the dirt on wobbly legs, with his hospital gown flapping in the gentle evening breeze. His gaze shifted from one face to another. His hands shook as he stepped back, training the weapon first on Montana, then Ito and finally settling it on the closest target—Dakota.
"You won't take me back!" His eyes were wide, unfocused, and blinking rapidly. He brought one hand up to wipe them.
That was all the distraction Montana needed. He threw himself at the boy.
Ricco grunted and the gun fell from his grip as Montana slammed into his injured shoulder. Montana wrapped one arm around his neck and drove him to the ground.
Ricco probably would have screamed in pain if the breath hadn't been knocked from his lungs when he hit the dirt.
Ito quickly drew his weapon and stood over them with it aimed at Ricco's head. He sidestepped and kicked Montana's gun out of Ricco's reach. "You good?"
Montana eased up when he saw Ricco's face pinched with pain and streaked with tears, but he growled, "Yeah, I'm good." He pushed Ricco off and stood up. "Where's my gun?"
Dakota had learned long ago to avoid his brother when he had that look on his face. When Montana got pissed, people usually ended up getting hurt.
Ito pointed under the
Jeep.
Dakota knelt down next to Ricco. In the moonlight, he could see blood seeping through the thin hospital gown. "Shit." He pulled the gown's shoulder down and lifted the bandage. "son of a bitch." The stitches had ripped apart. He twisted around and glared at Montana. "Hey, so much for not touching him."
Montana was on his stomach in the dirt, stretching his arm under the Jeep to reach his gun. He grunted as he retrieved the weapon, and then pushed himself to his knees. "Next time I'll just let him shoot you."
Ito holstered his weapon and knelt next to Dakota. "It's the drugs, Doc. Kid woke up confused."
Dakota raised a sarcastic eyebrow. "Gee, you think?" He sat in the dirt next to Ricco, put his head in his hands, and quickly scrubbed his fingers through his hair in frustration. Keeping Ricco safe was one thing; he had no problem with that. But guns being pointed in his direction, isolated houses in the middle of the desert, and mysterious bad guys who, for reasons he couldn't comprehend, wanted him dead, was way more than he signed on for. "If this is what you guys do for a living, I would love to tag along on a fun night with you."
Montana ignored the sarcasm and knelt next to Ricco. He had yet to holster his weapon, and held it against one thigh.
"So, what are you going to do now? Shoot him?"
"Shut up." Montana leaned over and gently slapped Ricco's face. "Private Ricco."
Ricco opened his eyes. He appeared lost and confused as he stared back and forth at the three men. "Where am I?"
Montana's entire demeanor changed as his tone softened. "You're somewhere safe, Michael."
Maybe it was hearing his name again, but Ricco focused on Montana. "I'm sorry, Major. For a minute...I thought you were—"
Montana took Ricco by his good arm and helped him to his feet. "If I thought you meant it, you wouldn't be breathing right now."
Ricco swayed and fell into Montana. "I'm sorry," he said again, and then his eyes rolled back and he lost consciousness. Montana caught him before he hit the ground and scooped him up. He carried the boy up the rickety porch steps and waited for Ito to unlock the door.