Cher to him.
Garrett closed his eyes tight as pain spiked through his brain.
Then he opened them and scanned the streets again.
* * * * *
Cher
“I need to go to him.”
“You fuckin’ do shit I don’t tell you to do, you’ll be lyin’ beside him.”
I stared at Ryker’s big, powerful, scary biker-dude body prone on the floor.
Wet hit my eyes.
Blood had pooled around him on the linoleum.
A lot of it.
Too much.
Too much of Ryker leaking all over my goddamned kitchen floor.
* * * * *
Garrett
He took the call from Colt.
“Got Nowakowski,” Colt stated. “Walter Jones was a profiler for the FBI. Now he’s freelance. He’s also right now pissed as shit that Nowakowski called and interrupted his vacation golf game on some course in Arizona to make him pissed as fuck by telling him some guy is impersonating him in Indiana.”
“Fuck,” Garrett whispered.
He should have checked. He should have looked into that shit.
Then again, the man who had Cher had done his homework. Preliminarily, how far would anyone dig before they let him get his foot in the door?
Still.
Fuck.
“Only two rental car agencies around Indianapolis International got burgundy Ford Tauruses in their fleets. Got folks checkin’ those that are out and who’s got ’em. They got LoJack, we’ll get positions of the vehicles that are out. Still checking other agencies not at the airport. I’ll report back on that,” Colt continued.
“Right,” Garrett muttered.
“Jake went through the footage of Bobbie’s parking lot cameras. They got an image of this guy. Isolated him. Jake’s doin’ what he can to give us somethin’ we can use. He’ll send what he’s got to your phone. Let us know if this is the guy who visited Cher, sayin’ he was Jones.”
“Gotcha.”
“And Feb wants you to know she, Jackie, Vi, and Dusty are with Rocky at Grace’s. Rocky decided it’s best that she took Ethan out of school. Since Jackie is on the list with the school to pick him up, she helped with that. She says they’re all hangin’ in there,” he finished.
Garrett thought of Ethan.
He thought of Grace.
Another spike of pain in his head.
“Thanks, Colt,” he forced out.
“More when we got it. Later.”
Colt hung up.
“They’re sending an image of the guy,” Garrett told Mike as they drove.
“Good,” Mike murmured.
A minute later, Jake emailed him an image.
It was the man who’d told them he was Walter Jones.
He confirmed that to Jake. Connie in dispatch confirmed it to everyone on the hunt. Jake sent out department-wide emails with the image.
Now they knew he was not the man he’d said he was.
And they had to hope he didn’t know about LoJack in rentals or how to disable it. Though, if he did his homework on the ex-FBI agent he was impersonating, he’d know LoJack.
So, other than knowing he was not who he’d said he was, they didn’t know dick.
Primary to that being where the fuck he was.
Which was where Cher was.
And where Garrett needed to be to take care of his brown-eyed girl.
* * * * *
Cher
“What’s wrong with him?”
“Shut up.”
“He’s bleeding a lot. What’s wrong with him?”
Walter Jones stopped frantically opening and closing my kitchen cupboards and turned, shaking his gun at me.
“Shut up.”
“He’s my friend,” I chanced the whisper.
“He’s an asshole,” Jones returned. “You don’t want me in your town, you ask nice. You don’t come and get up in my shit. You get up in my shit, I get up in yours.” He pointed the gun at Ryker’s body on the floor before returning it to me. “What’s wrong with him is I got up in his shit. And that means he’s got three bullets in him.”
Oh fuck.
Oh no.
Ryker.
Lissa.
Alexis.
Fuck!
“Let me go to him, please,” I begged, doing it not knowing what I would do even if he let me.
I just needed to be with Ryker.
I just needed to do that for Ryker.
And I needed to find out if he was still alive.
Jones resumed opening and closing cupboards. “Just shut up.”
I shut up and looked from the chair at my kitchen table that Jones had planted my ass into to Ryker.
I was too far away. I couldn’t see if he was breathing.
I jumped when something crashed.
Jones was shoving all my stuff from my shelves to the ground. Bowls, plates, pitchers, everything crashing on the floor, breaking, the shards flying everywhere, hitting Ryker.
Years of yard sale finds, estate sale finds, garage sale finds, antique shop finds, my kid’s cereal bowls, the plates Merry always chose for when he made us waffles or pancakes.
My life crashing to the floor, the jagged shards hitting my brother Ryker.
Fucking motherfucker.
“What are you looking for?” I snapped.
“Cameras,” he grunted.
What the fuck?
“Cameras?” I asked.
He turned on me. “That little weasel plant cameras?”
“What are you talking about?”
“That weasel. No, not a weasel. A rat. Did he plant cameras?”
It hit me.
“Ryan?” I asked hesitantly.
“Yeah,” Jones bit out. “The rat. The rat who led them to Denny. Him. He likes to watch. He’d like to watch you. Did he plant cameras?”
I stared at him, breathing hard. “Is Ryan okay?”
“He’s as okay as that guy there.” He jerked his head to Ryker.
Oh fuck.
Oh no.
Ryan.
My eyes got wet.
“You shot him?” I whispered.
“Dead.”
Dead.
Ryan.
I stared at Walter Jones.
The tear fell.
I should have known.
I should have known, with my life.
I should have known there would always be room for tears.
* * * * *
Garrett
His phone rang.
He looked to it.
It was Rocky.
He drew in breath and took the call. “Honey, unless this is about Ethan, now’s not a—”
“Merry?” Ethan interrupted.
The pain spiked, scoring into his brain.
“Hey, buddy.”
“Rocky doesn’t know I’m usin’ her phone. I swiped it. But I had to…I had to…” He drew in an audible breath. “Can I go to the station? Maybe Tanner can come and get me. I just…I just wanna…sit at the station.”
Fuck, he sounded scared.
His boy sounded scared.
Pain skewered Garrett’s brain as he beat back the fury.
“Prefer you where you are right now, kid,” Garrett told him.
“I know, but—”
“Ethan, bud, I gotta be doin’ what I’m doin’. Tanner’s helpin’. Mike. Cal. Colt. Sul. My dad. Everyone. So I got no one to look after your gramma except you. Need you to look after Grace. Can you do that for me now? Look after your gramma?”
“Yea—” His voice broke and Garrett’s vision blurred. He listened to Ethan clear his throat before he said, “Yeah. I can do that. I can look after Gramma.”
“Good, bud. See you soon, yeah? I’m gonna see you soon, buddy. You hear me?”
It was weak and nearly inaudible when Ethan replied, “I hear you, Merry.”
“Suck it up, Ethan,” Garrett ordered gently. “Need you strong, okay? Before you
go back to your gramma, suck it up for me. Go back to her strong. She’s probably scared. You need to take care of her, yeah?”
Ethan didn’t reply.
“You with me?” Garrett prompted.
He heard Ethan clear his throat again and his voice was a lot stronger when he said, “I hear you, Merry. Gotta get back to Gram.”
“Yeah you do. See you soon. See you both soon.”
“’Kay, Merry.”
“Love you, son.”
A sniff, then, “I love you too.”
“Right. Later.”
“Later, Merry.”
They disconnected.
Garrett drew a sharp breath in through his nose and kept scanning.
“You did right, Garrett,” Mike said softly. “Gave him strength, direction. Something like this happened when Jonas was Ethan’s age, a time he’s just beginnin’ to figure out what kinda man he wants to be, he wouldn’t wanna look back and remember himself fallin’ apart.”
“Right,” Garrett bit out.
“He needed a mission.”
“Right,” Garrett repeated.
“You did right.”
Garrett said nothing.
Mike drove.
Garrett’s phone rang again.
He looked to the screen.
It was Cal.
If Cal had something to say that wasn’t important, he’d text.
He was phoning.
Garrett took the call.
He didn’t say a word before Cal spoke.
“Burgundy Taurus, man, right in your woman’s goddamned driveway.”
The pain spiked.
He looked to Mike. “They’re at Cher’s.”
Mike turned on his blinker.
“You got eyes?” he asked Cal.
“Walked by. Sheers closed but movement in the kitchen,” Cal answered. “Otherwise, made no approach.”
“Distinct movement?”
“Yeah. One person. Couldn’t tell much. But it wasn’t Cher.”
It wasn’t Cher.
“Stay clear,” Merry ordered. “We’re on our way.”
“Got it.”
Garrett disconnected and ran his thumb over the screen.
“He took her to her own fuckin’ house?” Mike asked.
“Cal says car’s in the driveway and there’s movement in the kitchen, not Cher,” Garrett answered as he made his call and put the phone to his ear.
“Yo,” Colt answered.
“Cal reports burgundy Taurus in Cher’s drive. You and Sully. Mike and me. And I’m calling Tanner. We go in soft with no one else there to fuck this shit up.”
“You’re too close to this, brother. Let me call Drew and Sean there. Adam and Ellen,” Colt replied. “We’ll take care of her.”
“If I’m too close, you’re too close,” Garrett gave him the truth.
There was a pause, then, “Fuck.”
Colt knew the truth.
“You call cap,” Garrett ordered. “Tell him what we’re doin’, but do not let him throw everything we got at this so fifteen squads from all over the county roll in hot and tweak this guy to do somethin’ even stupider than abducting my woman. We don’t know what we’re dealin’ with here. We go in easy.”
“You got it. I’m on it. Meet you there.”
“Our ETA, five.”
“Ours, seven. But we’ll shave off two.”
They disconnected.
Her own fucking house.
He called her number. It was the fourth time he’d called since he’d heard.
She didn’t answer.
Then he called Tanner and gave him the news.
“Okay, keep your shit, man, but if this is about Lowe, her bein’ Lowe’s and now you bein’ hers, this could be about you. Goin’ to her place, he could be drawin’ you there,” Tanner warned.
“That thought crossed my mind,” Garrett replied.
“We’ll get her, brother,” Tanner assured.
They would.
They had to.
Because he definitely could survive losing Mia.
He could even survive losing his mom.
But he wasn’t sure he was capable of waking up and not seeing Cher’s pretty.
* * * * *
Cher
“You’re breaking all my shit,” I bit out.
He was also near to dislocating my shoulder, jerking me around while he shoved the gun in my shelves in my media center and knocked shit off, not to mention tore pictures off the wall.
“Ratted on him. Got him caught. Weasel fucker,” he muttered.
Things had turned.
He had turned.
It was like I wasn’t there. He was so focused on finding cameras that didn’t exist, I was an afterthought.
And I was fucked.
There was nothing I could do. My hands were still zip-tied behind my back.
I couldn’t run and get shot dead, making my son fatherless and motherless.
I couldn’t fight to try and get the gun away from him.
I couldn’t think of Ryker on my floor, hopefully still breathing.
I couldn’t think of Ryan at all.
I couldn’t do anything but get extremely pissed off that my life sucked so fucking bad.
I should have known.
Never hope.
Never want.
Certainly never dream.
Never.
If this guy made me dead, he’d set my kid on a path where he could learn that.
And I wouldn’t be there to set him straight.
Fucker.
Fucking fucker.
“Please let me go,” I whispered.
He didn’t let me go.
His head came up and he jerked me around so quickly, my head snapped on my neck.
I saw him stare at the door.
My eyes shot to the door.
Was someone there?
Should I cry out?
“You ratted too.”
His words in that weird whisper made me look to him.
He was looking at me.
“I wanted to make a video for them. A nice video they’d like. A video of you on his camera. A video of me cleaning up Denny’s business.”
Oh God.
Please let someone be out there.
“You,” he kept whispering, “the slut-stripper whore and the weasel. You got him caught.”
“He was murdering people,” I replied.
“In the name of love.”
I stared at him.
Fucking fuck this guy was whacked.
And there it was. Just my luck. Just the suckage of my life.
I missed it.
Again.
“It’s time,” he said.
Oh no.
Shit.
Fuck.
“Time for what?” I asked.
“Time for it to end.”
He jerked me to the door. He opened the door. He kicked the storm and the glass shattered.
He put the gun to my head and walked me out, our feet crunching on glass.
He held me in front of him like a shield.
I could feel the cold metal against my temple.
But all I could see was Merry standing in my yard.
His gun was up, his eyes on me.
He was there.
Of course he was there.
He took care of me.
“Lower your weapon!” I heard Mike shout.
It was just a flicker of movement, but I knew Merry’s eyes were now on Jones.
“Lower your weapon and step away from Ms. Rivers!” I heard Sully yell.
“Her first,” Jones shouted to Merry. “Then you.”
Gun still up, Merry’s eyes stayed locked to Jones.
“You got a bead?” I heard Tanner ask.
I swallowed.
He’d take care of me. He was there. Right there. In my yard.
He loved me.
We’d finally found happy.
He’d take care of me.<
br />
I had to believe.
He was Merry, my Merry.
I had to believe.
I stayed focused on Merry.
Merry stayed focused on Jones.
His head barely moved, but it did.
In an affirmative.
I braced.
“Hold on,” Merry said.
That was for me.
And I did what I was told.
I held on and believed.
Jones shifted minutely.
“Take the shot!” Colt roared.
Merry’s gun exploded.
I screamed when the blood spatter hit my face.
Jones fell.
Chapter Twenty-Six
People Like Us
Cher
Marksmanship trophies.
Oh yeah, my man was badass.
“I love you,” I called, standing on my stoop, a dead man at my feet.
Merry lowered his gun.
“No shit?”
I pressed my lips together because that was the least romantic thing a man could say in this situation (or any situation), just as it had been the last time he’d said it.
But still, I was this close to crying.
Because I was alive to hear him say it.
(Not to mention, he’d just shot a man in the head for me.)
I controlled the tears.
Then I turned and raced into the house.
“Cher!” Colt called.
“Ryker! He’s been shot!” I shouted back while I sprinted through my living room.
I hit my knees on a slide right through a puddle of blood toward Ryker in my kitchen. When I stopped, I twisted, doing it awkwardly to get my hands, which still were tied behind me, on Ryker to see if I could find a pulse.
“Please have a pulse. Please, badass motherfucker, have a goddamned pulse,” I begged, searching for it.
“Man down. Send paramedics to our position. GSW,” Merry said.
I looked to him to see him moving swiftly into my kitchen, his phone to his ear.
“Three,” I told him. “Three of them.”
Merry’s eyes flared.
“He’s been hit three times,” he said into his phone. “Unconscious. Significant loss of blood.”
I lost sight of Merry behind me. Then my wrists were lifted, I heard the snap of a knife cutting through plastic, and my wrists were freed.
I turned, going back for Ryker’s pulse as Merry shifted, crouching across from me, shoving my hand aside and reaching in himself.
Colt, Mike, Tanner, Cal, and Sully came into my kitchen.
“Shit,” Sully whispered, eyes to Ryker.
Colt got close and crouched.
Hold On (The 'Burg Series Book 6) Page 57