“Vice. How serious are your injuries?” he asked when Dom remained silent. He had a pretty good idea given the wetness of her clothing and hair that she had been through hell, but hoped to God they hadn’t done damage that wouldn’t heal. She rested her head on his shoulder, folding in to the safety only he could provide.
“I’m fine now.” Her simple answer punched Dom in the gut. Did she have any idea what she had just said? And the impact of its meaning? Fuck. After this, how was he ever going to let her go again? In an attempt to distract himself from overthinking things, he pulled her an arm’s length away and began giving her a thorough once over, checking each cut and bruise. “What all happened, Vice?”
“Eh, you know the usual. A body massage, spa bath, and some skin tightening exercises. Nothing I can’t handle.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, but they both knew her well enough to know even her snarkiness was weak. They got there just in time. Any longer, and she may have not been alive.
“Besides the water boarding and obvious, did they do anything else?” Maverick asked, praying they hadn’t.
“Fuck no. You would be holding my dead corpse before I let those disgusting bastards take me. Although, I doubt one of them will ever be able to piss straight again.” Even through her exhaustion, anger still seeped from her pores. Both men smirked at one another with pride. They knew a lot of men that wouldn’t hold up as well as she had.
“You are one hell of a soldier, sweetheart. Let’s get you out of here.” Dom lifted her up and carried her behind Maverick who cleared the way. They walked out into the middle of a gunfight at the O.K. Corral, but with Pop sitting on his perch, no one got close as they made their way through the gate and to the safety of the brush.
The team quickly illuminated the enemy, giving the few remaining poor saps a bang they would never forget. Romeo was the last to leave the area, tossing grenades like a pitching machine. As they walked away, the fire blasts exploded one after another in a chain reaction, blazing at their backs to give a picture perfect scene any action movie would be envious of. They were badasses through and through, and would move hell and the heavens to save one of their own. With the capture of Vice behind them, the next targets that were yet to come had no idea what they were in for or the revenge that would be reaped by this group of pissed off soldiers.
When the troops were safely over the border, a group of quads pulled up to ease their journey back to the trucks. One of the lower enlisted was nice enough to hop off and give his to Dom and Vice, who he sat snugly in front of him where he could keep her wrapped in his arms. There was no way he would let her go. Not now. Not ever.
With her sitting facing him, and her arms wrapped around his neck, he felt her doze off to the hum of the vibrations. He tucked her in tighter, slowing his speed to prolong the journey. “I’m never gonna let you out of my sight again, baby.” He wove his fingers through her hair, feeling the dirt and caked blood. His temper roared, making the little slaughter not enough. No. There would be more to fall for this. Hopefully with the documents and computer hard drives the team recovered, along with the tiny fragments they beat out of the few terrorists that talked. This mission just gained even more incentive.
Chapter Five
A truck came tearing up the driveway, skidding to a stop in front of the house. It was too dark to tell what color it was or get a license plate number, but the make was unmistakable. An older model Chevy extended cab that had a dark paint job was visible through the dirt cloud. Michael grabbed Betsy off the mantle and ran out to investigate, not knowing what to expect. Before he could get off the steps, a body was thrown out and the truck flipped a doughnut, peeling out and hauling ass the way it had come. When the dust cleared, Michael stared down at an unconscious Vince, laying helpless in the dirt. “Girls! Call the doc!” He sat the gun down and hoisted him up over his shoulder, carrying him in the house. Mrs. Sanders, Alaina, and Violet all came rushing into the room. Alaina dialed her cell, rattling ninety miles a minute to the good ol’ doc who still thankfully made house calls after thirty years. As she hung up, she helped get him situated on the couch, and headed out to retrieve the abandoned weapon.
“What’s going on?” Mrs. Sanders had already started checking Vince’s vitals and stripping his shirt off. Cuts and scrapes marred his handsome features, following down the length of his body. Bold purple and blue bruises had already begun to pop up, outlining his ribs and blotching over his torso. “Oh, baby boy. What did they do to you?” She continued her exam, checking his pupils and watching the shallow raise and fall of his chest.
“Is he going to be all right, Maggie?” Michael asked concerned.
“I’m not sure. Someone really did a number on him. Alaina, sweetheart, can you get me a warm bowl of water and a washcloth? Let’s get some of this dirt off him.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She rushed to the kitchen.
Michael’s temper flared. Whoever did this would have hell to pay. He walked into the other room to make a few phone calls before the doc arrived. He may be old, but no one got away with hurting one in his family.
Alaina rushed back with the warm water and began wiping the dirt off Vince’s face and arms. Violet took his shoes off, grabbed the afghan off the recliner, and tucked it under his chin. “He looks horrible. How could anyone do this to our Vincie? He wouldn’t hurt a fly! I’ve never known anyone who didn’t just absolutely adore him when they met him.” She sat on the floor beside him and held his hand, gently caressing in a soothing pattern.
“I don’t know. This just doesn’t make sense. Either he was knocked out, or someone gave him a Mickey Finn because there is no way he would get drunk enough to pass out at a bar. He has always been the responsible one and insisted whoever he was with to stay in control at all times. If we wanted to get shitfaced, we waited until we were safely at home.” Alaina walked over to the window, watching for the doctor’s headlights.
“Well, whatever happened doesn’t matter right now. We need to get this boy healthy before we worry about anything else. Where’d Michael go?” She looked around, noticing for the first time he had disappeared.
“I’m not sure. He seemed pretty upset,” Violet said.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Mrs. Sanders rubbed her hand down his cheek, clucking her tongue.
The hum of a car came up the drive, and Alaina rushed out to meet the elderly doc. He was getting up in age, and she always went out of her way to help him carry his bags or assist him on the stairs every time he had visited. With three kids on the farm, he had become a regular, especially during the winter months. He had been a family friend for over forty years, and despite being well into his sixties, he was the best damn doctor in the state of Montana.
Violet stayed by Vince’s side with Mrs. Sanders anxiously as Dr. Mars proceeded through the door with Alaina right behind him.
“Thank you so much for coming on such short notice, Wally.” Mrs. Sanders stepped aside, leading Violet out of the way. Dr. Mars took the chair Alaina had fetched and sat beside Vince.
“No problem at all, Maggie. Now, what are we looking at?” His voice was soft and calming, matching the kind features of a kindred soul. The doc was once a looker in his younger years, being the catch of the town. Now, even with the weathering of time, he was still quite handsome.
“This is our Vince. He went out tonight over to Ropin’ Joes to try to find him a date. A few minutes ago, a truck came speeding up and dumped him on the ground and left. He is pretty beat up, and unconscious,” Mrs. Sanders briefed him, wringing her hands in worry.
“I see. Let’s get a look at him.” Dr. Mars went straight to work, checking his vitals and listening to his heart and lungs. He checked his pupils with a flashlight, going over his limp body with a fine tooth comb. After all bumps and scrapes had a thorough investigation, he went to his bag. The silence was deafening, but the girls waited until he was finished. “He has been more than likely given Rohypnol, and from the looks of it, roughed up pretty g
ood. I don’t see any broken bones, but we may need to get an X-ray of these ribs after he wakes up in the morning. For now, give him a tablespoon of this every hour for four hours, then once every four hours until his body can burn off the drugs. You might want to keep a pail handy. Some people get sick from the drugs, others just feel it.”
“Rohypnol? As in, the date rape drug? Why on earth would they drug a man who is out looking for some action, only to beat the tar out of him and dump him out of a vehicle? That doesn’t make sense.” Mrs. Sanders features narrowed. What the assholes who did this didn’t realize, was that they were lucky Mrs. Sanders didn’t get her hands on them. As sweet and sugary as the woman was, she could do some major damage. And may God bless your soul if she got ahold of a weapon. Every new gun the team got, she wanted to shoot. If it weren’t for her age, she would have been recruited and given a sniper rifle to join Vice and Pop her aim was so precise. The woman knew her steel, and had no resolve using it to protect her loved ones.
“Maggie, the world doesn’t make sense. If I had to bet, I’d say this is just another narrow minded bunch targeting the innocent in a hate crime. The sheriff has been fighting more and more lately. Seems they are migrating into the area from Crawford County.”
“Wow. That’s too bad. People ‘round here won’t take kindly to their type. Most ranchers won’t bother the Sheriff, but will rely on their own tactics of ridding Adair County of their trouble. I know once word gets out, the group that did this will have a mighty fine bounty on their head. The stupid bastards are lucky. If the boys would have been here, they wouldn’t have made it out of the driveway unless they were zipped in a body bag.” Michael’s voice made them all turn, unaware of his presence. He stood, leaning against the doorframe loading a Colt 1911. The pistol was an heirloom, handed down from his father when he became a father. He would pass it down to Leland when he became one.
“Mmm. I don’t doubt that. Michael, if you run into problems, give my boys a call. They would be glad to come over and lend a hand.” His boys, Nathan and Dave, had been childhood buddies of Leland’s, and were anything but boys. Now grown, both stood over six foot six and weighed in at a good two eighty. Giants would have been a better description. His wife, Gale, was a tall slender woman who looked ten years younger than her age. She and Leland’s mom had been the best of friends since Kindergarten.
“Thanks, Wally. I may just do that. I phoned a few of the neighbors and told them to be on the lookout. Word spreads like wildfire here. They won’t get far.”
“That it does. I’ll be back tomorrow to check on the boy again. If anything changes in the night, just give me a ring. He should wake up in the next hour or so if you give him the meds like I instructed.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you so much,” Violet said sweetly. Both Alaina and she hugged him, thankful once again that he came to the rescue. The last scare had been with Lizzy when she fell sick with whooping cough last winter. He was an amazing man.
“I’ll walk you out, Wally.” Michael started toward the door, helping with his bags and gear.
“Thanks, Michael. Listen, if you want, I can see about getting a few tests back here to scan for the exact drugs in his system to use if you all are going to be pressing charges. We have a few hours and can get it to the lab first thing in the morning.”
“Nah, thanks, Wally. I don’t think our justice system can handle this situation as good as we can. I called Sheriff Brown and asked what our options were. He gave me the green light to take things into our own hands. He offered his services if needed. This is something that we can manage on a community level to insure the safety of our town. If things get out of hand, chances are this stuff is going to end up in our schools. We can’t have our kids being objected to this stuff, or this type of people, ya know.” Michael’s wink spoke volumes. The good old doc grinned. Michael caught a glimpse of younger days and meaner ways flash across his crystal blue youthful eyes. Back in the day, he had been the root of mischief and a bad son of a bitch. Even now, if Michael called him in a squeeze, the old coot would jump in to the rescue. Granted, now most of his force came down the barrel of a gun, but the threat was the same.
“No, no. We can’t. If you get in a crunch, I got a new toy I’d love to test out. The little lady got me Smith and Wesson MP 10 for our anniversary. Still ain’t got to break her in.”
“Will do. I’d like to see that little beaut. Bring the wife with you in the morning when you come. I’ll set up a target, and start breaking that little filly.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Doc got in his car and left, waving.
He hadn’t even made it out of the drive when the reinforcements showed up. A convoy of jacked up pick-up trucks came pulling in front of the house, all stocked with country grown, boots and hats wearing country boys all ready for a rumble. The gun racks were loaded with guns of all shapes and sizes, and the hounds all tied in the beds. There was one thing this town didn’t stand for, and it was hurting their own. Michael walked down the steps to greet them and left in a blaze of dust to get justice of his own.
Alaina sat by Vince’s side, washing his face down with cool water. All three women were stationed firmly at his side, unwilling to move until they knew he was awake and safe. The minutes drew into hours, wearing on their nerves. “Do you think he is going to be okay?” Violet asked with fear wavering her voice.
“He is going to be fine, sweetheart. That nasty stuff just needs time to burn out of his system. Go get you a piece of pie and a glass of milk. It will help settle your nerves, dear,” said Mrs. Sanders.
Violet looked at Vince and nodded. “Maybe you are right. Can I bring you something?”
“No, thank you, sugar. Alaina, you go with her now. I’ll holler if anything changes.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The girls sulked into the kitchen and focused their worries on the pecan pie Maggie had made for dessert. Somehow, after the first bite, they did feel the anxiety melt away. Maggie’s cooking had a way of soothing the nerves and easing the tension. Every bite was a bit of magic that could cure just about anything.
Around three in the morning, he began to stir. His groaning woke a sleeping Violet from her huddled ball in the recliner. She jumped up and rushed to squat beside him on the floor.
“Vince! Vince, are you okay?” She grabbed his hand, hoping he was pulling out of the drugged haze.
“Uhghh. My head,” he moaned, the dryness in his mouth evident. She reached over and grabbed the glass of water that had been set in preparation on the small side table and held it to his lips.
“Here, sweetie, take a drink. I’ll get you something for your head.”
He sipped the liquid, wincing at the pain as it trickled down his scratchy throat. What the hell had happened? Everything was a blur.
Violet held two pills to his lips, which he took, and folded his arm over his eyes. “What happened? I feel like a herd of cattle tap danced on my head.”
“We don’t know, sweetheart. We were hoping you could fill us in. A truck came speeding up the drive and tossed you out into the dirt before peeling out slinging rocks all over you. You have bruises all over you.” Her hand traced the visible ones lightly with the tip of her finger. Her eyes welled up with tears.
Vince reached down and took her hand in his, caressing her fingers lightly. “Aw, don’t cry, baby. I’ll be all right. A few scrapes and bruises can’t keep me down.”
“Vince, it was more than a little brawl. They drugged you. Who knows what else they did. What if they…you know...” Her words trailed off, unable to say the words.
“Honey, my honor is still intact. That’s one thing I’d know…and probably remember from lack of action.” He grinned, wincing when his smile reached his black eye and bruised cheeks.
She brushed a kiss on his cheek and sat beside him. “I’m just glad you are okay. I got so scared when you didn’t wake up. We all did.”
“Aw now, I’m tougher than that. Get up here and give me some love.” He pulled her
beside him, biting his lip at the pain that shot through his body. She rested her head on the pillow beside his and fell asleep almost instantly. There was no way the girls could find out about what had really happened. He may not remember much, but the tiny fragments he did and the pain running through his dick, balls, and ass were enough to piece it together. From the feel of things, it wasn’t something he enjoyed. Never in his life had he ever imagined he would be the victim of date rape. And yet, here he was proving that it didn’t matter how big or small you were, if the prowlers had their eyes set on you, you wouldn’t see it coming. He snuggled down beside her and faded off to sleep, feeling the still lasting effects coursing through his body. Hopefully by morning he would be back to normal and could make some sense to all of the hallabaloo.
The men drove most of the day, doing a little field work of their own and finally got lucky. Nick, a bar owner at the edge of town, had seen the assholes an hour before their drive by body dump. He identified them as Chester Dover and Hector Rodriguez. After a call to the Sheriff, he found that both were from the big city, and had been in and out of jail since their youth. It was time to give those two a ruling that would set them on the straight and narrow for good and not just a slap on the wrist. This country version of the A-Team fit the job perfectly. “Let’s go hunting, boys.” Michael’s voice was low and gruff, representing the hardened cowboy he had always been. There was a thin line between revenge and justice, and he was willing to keep it blurred to get the job done. They had come across some solid leads, and had no doubt they would find what they were looking for in due time.
Mission: Compromised Submissive Page 5