by West, Dahlia
“Okay,” he groaned.
Ava drove them out of the warehouse district like a bat out of hell. She slid into the turn onto the main road and the car fishtailed slightly.
Jonah briefly considered telling her that he wasn’t actually dying but that if she didn’t slow down, he might—they all might. But part of him figured she might be doing it for fun, for “s’s and g’s” as Pop would say. They were the only people dumb enough to be out driving in this weather and he could see how having the streets to themselves would be tempting for his wild little sister.
He laid his head on Sienna’s lap and fought to stay awake. He was comfortable, though, with her stroking his hair. If she weren’t crying quietly, it would’ve been a nice moment.
He reached up with a bloodied hand and patted her wrist. Their fingers found each other’s and Jonah intertwined them, despite the pain. “It’s okay, baby,” he half-whispered. “Everything’s fine.”
The car rolled to a stop, jostling him considerably. Jonah winced.
“Um, don’t speak too soon,” Ava warned him.
“Oh, my God!” Sienna hissed, peering through the windshield. “What is that?!”
Jonah couldn’t see what they were talking about, but he could guess. The darkness of the backseat was shot through with flashing lights. Red, blue—police, no doubt. The now-familiar white from the storm. There was yellow, too. And that one puzzled him the most. He gripped the edge of the passenger seat and, with great effort, hauled himself up to a sitting position.
It was definitely a sight.
The yellow lights were hung over the Emergency Room doors of Rapid City General. Jonah had never actually been here before, had never been unlucky enough to need to come. It appeared, though, that his luck had finally run out, not in a slow trickle but in a rush like a destroyed floodgate. Like a floodgate that had been struck by lightning.
Emergency vehicles littered the drop-off lane. Ambulances were parked halfway on the curb. EMTs were throwing open rear doors, gurneys were everywhere. Anywhere a cop car could squeeze in, there was one. Lights still flashing, though sirens, thankfully, were turned off. Ava couldn’t even get to the front door of the ER, not in the car. They’d have to park and hoof it across the hospital’s lawn.
Off in the distance, another siren blasted. The three of them turned to watch as, not an ambulance or cruiser appeared, but a fire truck, hauling ass despite the torrential downpour. It passed up the hospital entirely and screamed down the street, in the opposite direction from where Jonah, Sienna, and Ava had just come.
“Jesus!” Ava muttered. “This is one hell of a storm! Like Sodom-and-Gomorrah-type shit!”
Lightning split the sky again and the blast of thunder rattled the car a little.
Sienna gasped.
Jonah put his arm around her. “I think God heard you,” he told his sister.
The car window rattled again and the girls both jumped. This time, though, it was only Emilio, who’d pulled up alongside them.
Ava rolled the Toyota’s window down and shielded her face from the rain.
Emilio looked doubtfully at the scene before them. “I don’t know what the fuck this is,” he told them, “but I don’t think any doc’ll get a look at you before dawn.” He glanced again at the doctors, nurses, and emergency crews who were scrambling outside the ER doors. “Maybe not till tomorrow night,” he added.
Sienna chewed her lip and stared at all the flashing lights. “We could drive him to Spearfish?”
Emilio shook his head. “Spearfish? That’s an hour away. Even if we ditched the bike and I rode with you.”
Ava stuck out her chin. “Not the way I drive.”
“Still,” replied Emilio. “It’s far.” He ducked down so he could see Jonah in the backseat. “I know someone. We’ll call him first. He’ll check you out.”
Jonah looked up at the sky and then down at the scene before them. He nodded. “I need to lay down, though.”
Emilio sat up and revved Jonah’s Harley’s engine. “Take him to the garage,” he told Ava. “It’s only a couple blocks from here. I’ll follow you.”
Before Ava could pull out, he tapped the window again, stopping her from raising it. “Muñeca drive for the conditions this time, okay?”
Ava gave him an indignant look as she dropped the Toyota into gear and rolled away from Rapid City General.
At Burnout, she parked as close to the side door as possible. Emilio hauled Jonah out of the backseat, passed him to Sienna, and went to unlock the door.
Inside was cool and dry, dark and calm, compared to the noise outside. Emilio flipped on the lights for the work bay and led them into the first door on the left. Another flick of a switch and an office was illuminated.
Sienna lowered Jonah down on a green leather couch tucked against the far wall and helped him get his feet up.
Emilio picked up the receiver of the phone on the desk and began dialing. “He doesn’t live far,” he assured them. “He can get here soon.” Thunder crashed outside again and he glanced out the small window. “Or as soon as he can, anyway.” He waited, checking the clock on the wall, but there must have been no answer. He slapped the phone, waited for a dial tone, and tried again.
He frowned as he listened at the other end. “Phone’s about to die,” he muttered. “All kinds of static. I got my cell, though.” He finally gave up and disconnected the call. “He’s not answering. But it’s late. Or early, I guess, depending on how you look at it. I’ll try again in a few minutes.” He turned to Sienna. “Why don’t you go to the break room, get him a bottle of water. We keep a bunch in the fridge.”
She nodded, gave Jonah a concerned look, then headed out the office door.
Emilio sighed and sank into the desk chair. “Gives her something to do,” he said quietly. He rubbed his face and then eyed Jonah. “Man, I don’t know what the fuck you were thinking.”
“Me? What about you?! You called the girls? Why would you do that? How could you put them in danger like that?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You can’t blame me! Shit had already hit the fan before I got involved. Apparently, Sienna woke up alone and went looking for you. And when she didn’t find you, she called Ava, who was sleeping at my place. Your sister asked me if I knew where you were. And I see how things are with you and Sienna, but I don’t lie to my woman.”
Jonah sighed. “You knew about the fights.”
“I knew there were fights. I’d heard some whispers around the gym. But I was hoping your dumb ass hadn’t taken so many shots to the dome that you’d get involved. So, I made a few calls and got a location. I was gonna let you fight and then kick your ass later, but when things went south… Well, Ava called in the middle of it and I couldn’t leave her hanging. She was worried about you, Jonah. And Sienna was terrified. There was nothing I could do.”
Emilio leaned forward in the chair and cast a dark look across the room. “You brought us into this, Jonah. Not me. It’s your fuck up.”
Jonah closed his eyes and leaned back against the couch. “I know. I’ll make it up to her. I’ll—”
Sienna’s scream shattered the air.
Fear shot through every one of Jonah’s nerve endings, temporarily replacing the pain. He bolted off the couch and flew out the door of the office, shoving Emilio aside as he did so. Adrenaline surged through his body and he steeled himself for yet another fight, determined to protect his girl.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Blood. That was mostly what Jonah saw when he burst through the break room door. Sienna was pressed into the corner of the room, hands covering her mouth, eyes wide in terror.
Two men Jonah recognized as Shooter Sullivan and Caleb Barnes were lifting a third, unconscious, man onto the long table. Crimson drops spilled from the edge and marred the otherwise pristine white tile floor.
Jonah rushed to Sienna and gathered her in his arms. She buried her head into his chest to avoid looking at the grisly scene.
Shoot
er glanced up at them, face pinched, jaw clenched. “What the hell are you doing here?” he yelled at all of them.
“What are we doing here?” Emilio asked. “What are you doing here?” His eyes skittered to the table, incredulous. “Holy shit,” he half-whispered. “Is that guy dead?”
Shockingly, the man opened his eyes. “Give me a minute,” he groaned. “I’m working on it.”
Sienna whimpered loudly.
Caleb gave them all a dark look as he yanked open the duffel bag at his feet. “Get out and shut that door,” he said curtly.
“Did you shoot him?” Emilio asked.
“Fuck no!” Caleb bit out. “I would’ve finished the job.” Jonah understood that they needed to get out of this room, but seemingly all at once, the adrenaline dissipated. He sagged against the wall behind him because Sienna couldn’t possibly support his weight.
She cried out, this time afraid for him.
“It’s all right,” he murmured.
Caleb passed Shooter a large pair of scissors and returned to the bag. Working quickly, fingers flying, Shooter cut open the bleeding man’s shirt, exposing a large wound on his side.
“Roll him,” Caleb demanded, snapping on a pair of blue gloves eerily similar to the ones Jonah wore at Stark Ink.
Shooter lifted the man by the shoulder and pushed on his hip. A throaty groan escaped the would-be patient’s lips.
“Through and through,” Caleb announced, though Jonah wasn’t entirely sure the man was listening. “But if it nicked your intestines…”
“Live in shit, die in shit,” the man moaned and then bizarrely shook a little with laughter.
Shooter grabbed a bottle of water off the floor that Sienna must have dropped. He twisted the cap and dumped the entire contents over the man’s wound. Caleb wasted no time threading a needle and tying it off. “Shooter,” he said, jerking his chin at Jonah. “Deal with that for now. I’ll look him over when I can.”
Shooter straightened, stalked across the room, herding Emilio with him. Each man took a side, carefully raised Jonah’s arms, and helped him out of the break room and back into the office. Ava and Sienna followed.
The two men lowered Jonah to the couch where he leaned back, collapsing into pain and exhaustion once again.
Shooter peered down at him. “I’m going to go out on a limb and say underneath all the blood and swelling, you’re Jonah Stark.”
Jonah couldn’t muster the ability to say ‘Yes, sir,’ which seemed wholly appropriate to say to the man standing in front of him, so he simply nodded.
“Do I want to know?” he asked Emilio.
Emilio glanced at Jonah, then said, “Um, probably not.”
Shooter’s eyes became slits. “You’re going to tell me anyway.”
It was a simple fact, and given what little Jonah knew about Shooter, no one could blame Emilio for giving in. The younger man put up a valiant effort to guard Jonah’s secret, though. He kicked at the floor for a moment instead of answering.
“This is not an ER, Emilio,” Shooter said in a clipped tone. “It’s a garage.”
Surprisingly, Emilio gave his boss a sarcastic look. “There’s a guy bleeding out on our break-room table.”
Shooter’s jaw twitched and his eyes narrowed. “Well, it’s my garage,” he grumbled. The large man crossed his arms in front of his chest and waited. Jonah got the impression that he could stand there all night—and would—until he got what he wanted.
“Fight club,” Emilio told him.
Shooter grunted. “First racing, now fighting.”
Emilio bristled. “I don’t do it! I want a chiseled jaw, not a shattered one. I’d heard rumors, though, at the gym.”
Shooter knelt down in front of Jonah and brought his hands up in front of him.
Jonah refused to flinch.
The older man pressed his jaw and his cheekbones gently while Jonah closed his eyes to block out the pain. “Well, I think your jaw’s fine,” Shooter told him quietly. “I’d lay money that you’ve got an orbital bone fracture, though. And a concussion.”
Sienna sniffed and Jonah felt terrible that she had to see this.
Shooter leaned back and looked at him solemnly. “So, how many guys were you fighting?”
“Just one,” Jonah mumbled.
Emilio snorted. “One guy with a plaster of Paris upgrade.”
“Jesus fucking Christ!” Shooter spat. He turned his gaze on Jonah. “You could’ve been killed!”
“W-what?” Sienna stammered. “Plaster? What?” Her eyes bounced back and forth between everyone in the room.
Ava scowled and ground her heel into the floor.
“What happened?!” Sienna finally demanded.
“He cheated,” Ava said, breaking the awkward silence. “The other guy cheated. He made his gloves heavier. Like being hit with a brick.”
Sienna’s hands flew to her own face. “Oh, my God! Oh, my God!”
Emilio cleared his throat and reached into his front pocket. He held out the wad of bills to Jonah. “Guess you really earned this,” he said quietly.
Shooter cursed under his breath.
Jonah finally drummed up the ability to speak again. “I needed a lot of money in a short amount of time,” he offered by way of explanation.
Shooter shook his head wearily. “Son, there’s nothing in the world worth a beating like this.”
Despite the pain, Jonah lifted his chin and threw a dark look at the man before passing over him and settling his gaze on Sienna. “There’s one thing,” he half-whispered.
Sienna gasped. “Oh, my God,” she repeated. “The dress, the car—all of it. This is how you got the money? Goddammit!” Sienna rushed at him, face twisted in rage. She stopped short, though. “I… I want to slap the shit out of you! But you’re all broken and bruised! How could you do this? How could you think this was okay?!”
Jonah was tired and really didn’t feel like talking about it, but she deserved an answer. He’d put her through a lot tonight, after all. “At first, I just wanted a bike. It was just a few fights. But I kept going back, not really thinking about why. And after a while, I had all this money saved and I realized why I was really doing it. I did it for us,” he told her. “To start our life together.”
She collapsed onto the couch beside him, tears streaming down her face. With great effort, Jonah lifted his arm, wincing a little as he did. He settled it around her shoulders and held her to him.
“I’m not a great guy, Sienna. I may never be. But I love you. You and your happiness are all that matter to me. I’d take a thousand punches, suffer a thousand broken bones, just to see you smile.”
Shooter moved to the door but turned back before he left. “I guess I don’t need to give you a bunch of shit,” he said, nodding at Sienna. “I think she’ll do my job for me just fine. And I don’t think it needs to be said—”
“You keep my secret, we’ll keep yours,” Jonah promised.
Sienna looked up at Shooter. “Is that man going to die?”
Shooter frowned and shrugged. “I couldn’t say. But if it makes you feel better, he’s a bad man, honey. And sooner or later, the devil always takes his due.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Caleb Barnes, who had apparently been a field medic in the Army, prodded and poked and probed Jonah until he felt like an alien abductee.
Sienna stood off to the side, vacillating between fear and anger as she watched the impromptu physical.
Jonah would rather be holding her now, comforting her. He closed his good eye and willed Barnes to hurry the hell up.
“You’ve got a concussion,” the man told him. “Your pupil’s not entirely blown, but it’s not a good idea to sleep too much for the next few days. A few hours at a time only.”
He pinched Jonah’s gashed eyebrow and applied a butterfly closure with the same skill and dexterity Jonah used in the shop to pierce people. He was impressed, to say the least.
“Your ribs are broken. At le
ast one, maybe two.”
Sienna whimpered and Jonah grimaced.
“Your breath sounds are good. Your heartbeat is strong. I’m not that worried about it. Don’t wrap it,” Barnes said firmly. “And don’t let anyone else tell you to wrap it. The risk of pneumonia isn’t worth it. Just deal with it the best you can and restrict your mobility.” He leaned back and studied Jonah for a moment. “I’m guessing you’re okay with pain.”
“I guess you’d be right,” Jonah replied quietly.
Barnes frowned at him. “Don’t be a hero. Take pills if you’ve gotʼem .” And then, as if he knew Dalton and his issues, Barnes added, “You won’t be able to hide this from Adam. He’ll keep you straight.” He stood up, re-packed his bag and left the room, presumably to go back to the man who really needed his attention.
Jonah groaned as he levered himself off the couch. Sienna rushed to him and tucked herself under his arm, holding him up. “Let’s go home,” he told her and let her help him out the door.
Back at the apartment, climbing the stairs was more of a challenge than he would’ve liked. He forced Sienna to go up first and wait for him, so that if he fell he wouldn’t take her down with him. The irony was not lost on him as he struggled up the steps alone.
She closed the door behind him and appeared to have opened the door to her emotions in the process. She sobbed, face buried in her hands.
“Sienna.”
“What the fuck is happening to my life?” she cried.
“Sienna.”
She didn’t appear to have heard him, though, or maybe she just didn’t care. “I mean, I don’t even know what to do! I barely know what’s going on! God knows where my mom is right now and my boyfriend’s a train wreck. I don’t know why I’m crying right now. You’re the one who’s hurt.”
She started to turn away, but Jonah caught her in his arms and pulled her back to him. “Wait a minute. Your mom? What about your mom?”
Sienna sniffed and wiped her cheek. “That’s why I woke up. She called me for a ride. She spent all her cash and had nothing left for a cab. Her date left her stranded.”