No Good Dead (Bad to Be Good #1)

by Dana Volney

  Rife was bracing Samson, who had pants soaked in blood and a tourniquet wrapped high on his thigh, and Milo was marching Rodney over, Claire a step behind. The smug sonuvabitch was laughing. Able quick-stepped over to Rodney and decked him, knocking him unconscious.

  Able wrenched open Teagan’s door. His eyes were drawn to the red on her arm before landing on her blue eyes.

  “How bad?” He was down to her level.

  “I don’t know.” She tried to touch it but winced in pain. Her entire body was tense and tightened even further when he ripped the sleeve of her shirt to get a look at the wound.

  He gingerly touched the entry point and moved her arm out from her side. There was an exit wound, too. Thank God.

  “The bullet got a piece of you, but it went through.” He tore off the rest of her sleeve and tied it around her arm to stop the bleeding. He’d get a better look and clean it up later. “Sit tight.”

  He stood, a tightness in his chest. “Everyone get the fuck in the vehicle.”

  They’d killed everyone they’d come for and now they had Rodney. Overall a successful mission.

  Somehow, he didn’t feel like it was a win.

  Chapter Twelve

  Teagan didn’t want to be overly dramatic, but she felt lightheaded. Just how much blood had she lost? How much could a person lose before it was an issue?

  Able unknotted the part of her shirt he’d wrapped around her injury back at the scene of the crime. She closed her eyes for a moment. So much blood.

  “Ah.” She quickly sucked in breath between her teeth. Fuck, that hurt.

  “I have to take this off and get you fixed up.” Able was being pragmatic; she heard it in his tone. He was focused on the problem at hand, which was the through-and-through wound she now sported on her upper right arm. But the pop in his jaw and the fire in his gaze was all emotion. Rodney, who’d been bound and set in one of the rooms off the living room, was in trouble and would probably bear the brunt of Able’s anger.

  “Shouldn’t I go to a hospital?” She peeked at her arm, expecting to see a lot of missing flesh but instead just witnessed pooling blood.

  “For so many reasons, no.” A smile started to cross his lips, but he clipped it off. “It’s a pretty small entry wound.” He moved his head to look at the back of her arm without moving her flesh. “The back is a little worse.” He met her gaze. “But not by much. You’re going to live.”

  She raised her brows at him. She didn’t want to die of some weird infection or flesh-eating bacteria because she was afraid of being wrongfully convicted of murdering an FBI agent. Her lungs deflated. There was no good way to think of her life at the moment.

  “You’re a wanted fugitive and we don’t know that we got everyone at the hotel.” Apparently he felt she still needed the reasons listed for her. “We still need to verify the identities. And, legally, hospital staff have to report all gunshot wounds. They will know what this is.” A lock of his brown hair fell from its place behind his ear, the strands sticking to his high cheekbone and making a soft line to his thinly outlined goatee. His fingers were gentle, not too much pressure, as he wiped a wet cloth over the blood around her flesh while she watched. This wasn’t happening; this wasn’t her arm.

  “It’s going to be okay.” His soft whisper nearly brought tears to her eyes. Not from the rolling pain, but from the way he was caring for her, the worry and anger that had engulfed him when she’d found his gaze after the initial shock of the bullet. He’d looked wild and crazy and, without hesitation, had killed the man who had shot her.

  Wake up. It wasn’t you specifically. He would’ve done that if anyone had been hurt.

  Her gaze shifted to Samson, who was being sewn up by Claire. The bullet that got him had clipped the side of his thigh and taken a good chunk of flesh with it.

  She’d not been inside the hotel and didn’t know how Able had reacted when Samson was shot, but she had heard him call out over the comm system and Able hadn’t sounded panicked.

  She studied the sharp slope of his nose and then his lips—indulgent lips that gave her everything she needed when they were on her. When they were hers.

  He met her gaze, and she thought he was going to lean in and kiss her. “I have to clean it before we get it bandaged up. It’s going to sting.”

  “Bandage and not stitches?”

  “No. No stitches needed.”

  Her adrenaline was starting to wear off, and she slouched against the kitchen chair. There was one thing to be thankful for. She was probably going to have scars forever now to commemorate this lovely point in her life. And Able. Fuck, now she had permanent reminders of this shit show.

  He poured saline solution directly onto her arm then antiseptic on a new cloth that wasn’t soaked with her blood and started dabbing the wounded area. She gasped as the stinging pain sprang outward in throbbing spurts. She wasn’t ready for that. Each step of being shot sucked. It was better when the initial shock had practically numbed her for the entire drive back to the office.

  “I have something for the pain.” Sabene was digging in her bag across the room.

  “Oh, well, I shouldn’t.” Teagan bit into her bottom lip and clenched her other fist to deal with the intense pain. Just breathe. It wasn’t the sterile solution and her need for wound treatment per se but the actual hole through her arm that was freaking her the fuck out. She wasn’t exactly the toughest person on the face of the planet.

  “It’s nothing too strong.” Sabene handed her two white pills.

  “It’s not that, I just have a low tolerance for medicine.” Teagan looked up at the blonde woman whose brown roots were showing in a chic and stylish way. “I don’t usually take anything because of that.”

  “She really only needs aspirin.” Able opened his kit farther and pulled out a white wrap.

  “That’s basically what this is.” Sabene produced a bottle of water.

  Teagan grabbed the pills with her good hand and then the water. “Why the hell not?” She smiled and prayed that she didn’t just take some illegal drug. She should’ve asked.

  Able wrapped her arm with the white gauze.

  Everything felt slow. And nice. “Well, that was fast.” Her words were a little slurred as she blinked in slow motion.

  His brown eyes met hers and his brows pulled together.

  “Meds.” She giggled. “I told you.” She tried to sit up straight in her chair but wasn’t sure she even moved. “I’m suss-ptable.” Her last word was a jumbled mouthful. “Susceptible.” She made an effort to enunciate correctly. “I don’t even take aspirin unless completely necessary.”

  A smile glided across his face until it was full and his eyes danced with laughter. Her eyes hazed at the sight.

  “You weren’t kidding about your tolerance.”

  “Nope.”

  “Sabene, what the hell did you give her?”

  “Something to take the edge off.” Sabene shrugged and went back to whatever she was doing at her workstation.

  “I feel drunk.”

  “Can you feel this?” Able did something to her arm.

  “Nope.”

  “Okay then. Why don’t you just close your eyes and lean your head back, and I’ll be done soon.”

  She did as he requested, and the only thing she had an inkling about was him next to her, a gentle pressure as he finished the wrap and warmth rolling through her entire body. A thickness to the air pushed away all her fears.

  She roused as arms surrounded her and then she didn’t feel the hard chair anymore. Instead, she felt hard flesh. When her gaze focused, she was looking at Able’s neck. She shifted her head up. She took in a deep breath and his spicy lavender scent caused her eyes to close momentarily again. He always smelled so damn good. She wrapped her arms around his neck the best she could. Being in his arms was nice. She liked it. She was going to miss it. This new and crazy world she’d been thrust into was hard to grasp sometimes, but she liked the people. She liked Able. For the
first time in a long time she felt settled. Which was silly. His jaw flexed and she moved her palm down, more clumsily than she’d intended, and ran her fingers over his jawline.

  Her throat tightened and her belly warmed. She wanted justice. She wanted to shut down Hume Corp., but she didn’t want to have to figure out what was next for her. Because whatever was next was somewhere far away. And that was sad. A tear pinched at the side of her eye. She let her head fall against his hard chest and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. To stop the tears. To take in his scent. To never forget. To find the strength to keep going, because she was definitely at a point. Of what, she wasn’t sure. When she woke up, when the drugs wore off, she was going to refocus.

  She had one goal. That was the only thing permanent about this situation.

  I’m going to miss you.

  “What?” Able shifted under her.

  “Hmm?” She opened her eyes and clasped her fingers together tighter to hold on.

  “You just said—”

  She squinted at him. What had she said? She didn’t remember speaking. She was going to have to grab a couple more of whatever those pills were—maybe they’d wipe her memory after this was all over so she wouldn’t remember. So she wouldn’t miss anyone.

  * * *

  He’d understood her mumble. And she’d used the word you. He wanted to get this interrogation over with so that he could get Teagan home and make her comfortable. He should’ve never let her takes random meds.

  “Are you caught up with this chick?” Samson paused at the door to the room where they were keeping Rodney.

  “No.” Teagan wasn’t getting in the way of the real mission, either, if that’s where Samson was going. He was still focused on making sure they were all safe from future attacks.

  “I see it, bro. No use in denying it. Take it from someone who knows what it’s like to get caught up with someone you work with.”

  “We don’t work together. I don’t work with Teagan or anyone else.” Able motioned to the door. He was not having this conversation. He didn’t have to explain himself to anyone. Even his brother.

  “For the time being. And you know what I meant.” Samson turned the handle and Able followed him into the room.

  “You really think this was your best play?” Able kicked the metal chair Rodney was tied to.

  This cock-sucking shit brains of a man was going to fucking die for making Teagan bleed. The guy who pulled the trigger was dead, sure, but Rodney was the one who’d started down this path. And after he was six-fucking-feet under, Hugh Hume was going to find out why you didn’t mess with people like Able. Or Able himself.

  He clutched the cool metal grip of his HK and circled the white-haired bastard. If Able didn’t need more information out of his asshole, he’d already be in the process of dying a slow and painful death.

  “Go ahead.” Rodney spat blood on the floor. “My lips are sealed.”

  “The funny thing about you, Rodney, is that working alone can suck.” Able glanced at Samson. “But working with a team has its benefits.”

  “Name one,” Rodney snarled. “Those stupid novice bastards kept getting themselves killed. I should’ve done it all myself from the start. You never would’ve made it off that roof.

  Able pulled a printout that Sabene had slipped him from his back jeans pocket. “For instance,” he ignored the rant, “try as you might, you did not hide your family as well as you thought.”

  The older man’s gray-blue eyes widened before zeroing in on Able. “I have no family.”

  “That’s what I thought. In every sense. Turns out, I was very mistaken. You know, I’m surprised really. Never took you for the type to latch on to anything. I’m not even sure you like the money as much as you like the killing.”

  “And we all know how much you like money.” Samson crossed his arms and leaned his back against the wall.

  “Miranda Smith.” Able glanced up from the sheet. “Her real last name, or just trying to blend in?”

  Rodney stayed stoic.

  “And then we have little Rodney Smith. Would that be a junior then?”

  “Fuck you.” Rodney violently pulled at his restraints, but they were too tight and all that happened was the legs of the chair scratched the cement surface of the unfinished floor.

  “What’s this? Miranda is expecting? Wow, didn’t think a man your age would want another kid.” Able pictured the blood running down Teagan’s arm. Shit, he couldn’t wait to beat Rodney’s face in, but he needed information first.

  “If it’s even his kid. How long you been away, Rodney?” Samson asked.

  “I have the drive.” Rodney’s stare was cold even when he was trying to deal for his family’s life.

  “Drive?” Samson asked, but Able knew what Rodney meant and his entire body tensed.

  Getting his hands on that drive would answer a lot of questions. There was definitely sensitive information Hume wanted back—a ledger of illegal activity was never good to have floating around—but Able suspected there was more to it. More to all of this.

  “I’m supposed to believe you held something back from your employer?” Able stuck his gun back into his waistline.

  “I know insurance when I see it. Isn’t that what all of this is about?”

  “Why would you need insurance?” Able already knew: this had been a bad contract from the start. Picking off your fellow cohorts had to be stressful on many levels.

  “I’m not stupid. Look at who he was going after.”

  “Who you were going after,” Able interrupted.

  “Who I was paid to go after.” Rodney tried to straighten himself in the chair but couldn’t move. “It was a good payday. And why the hell not? But that guy is a lowlife in a suit. I wasn’t sticking my head in the sand waiting for a double cross.”

  “Where is it now?” Samson asked.

  “In a safe space.”

  “You’re going to need a safe space of your own if you don’t tell me where,” Able said.

  Rodney took a deep breath, defeat in is stare. “It’s in a secured box in the locker at the gym on the corner by the courthouse. Leave the woman and kids alone.”

  “How long have you had your phone on you?” It was a burner, so there was no room for assumption.

  “Since this whole thing started. That’s the one he contacts me on.”

  “Have Sabene check the locations of his phone to validate he was at that location after the alley,” Able directed Samson. “Then take Rife and go check it out. Get it to Sabene to verify.” Able lowered himself to look his former mentor in the eyes. “If this is a double cross, if you’re lying, if my team gets hurt authenticating this intel, you’re going to spend the rest of your years dying and watching those you love suffer.” Able wasn’t one for torture, quick and easy was how he liked to get the job done, but make no mistake, he was up to the task when provoked. And Rodney was one big ball of provocation.

  Samson left and Able waited until the door was shut to take his gun back into his palm and rack it. He couldn’t kill Rodney here though—that would leave too much of a mess behind and Samson hadn’t put plastic down under Rodney’s chair.

  “Why are you still on this? You got the team I hired. You have me,” Rodney asked.

  “Because I get the feeling this isn’t over yet.”

  “Nah, it is. We both know that.”

  “That bastard doesn’t seem to be letting anything go. So, no, I’m not stopping until it’s all over.”

  Rodney’s laugh bounced off the walls and filled the room. “Why haven’t you put a bullet between Hume’s eyes yet, Able? I think it’s because of that woman.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he spat.

  “It’s not like you to get involved in a case. This isn’t how you solve your problems.”

  “It is now.” Now he didn’t just want to be a hit man. Doing what he’d been paid to do didn’t satisfy him any longer. He wanted the full picture, more than
his recon on a job. He wanted to know who the good and bad guys were.

  Rodney was pardoned for now but not for long. Able ran his hand through his hair as he closed the door to the office. His gaze shifted to Teagan, who was still curled on the couch, asleep. The bandage on her arm had pinkened in spots.

  He ran a hand down his jaw. This week had really fucked with his life.

  He didn’t know who he was anymore.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Dinner was delicious.” Teagan picked out a tank top from the rack. She blinked a couple of times, but nothing was helping. She was still sluggish and exhausted. The only thing that was going to help was more sleep.

  “Are you feeling better?” Able called out from the bedroom.

  She glanced at her bandaged arm. Just peachy. There was no need to look at her face. She knew it was ragged from a day of bullets and pills. She slid open the bathroom door. “I’m just really tired. I’d like to go to sleep.”

  “Yeah, it’s been a long day.”

  She sat on the bed, scraping her toes on the fluffy rug as she folded one leg under her. Able sat on the corner next to her, his thigh pressing against her knee. Damn his jeans. Although she had no energy for any other activities, skin-to-skin contact wouldn’t be unwelcome.

  His fingers ran the line of her white bandage. “You need a new one. The blood keeps seeping through.”

  “I think it’s okay.” The pain was minimal, and there was no way she wanted to be roused with a surge of adrenaline again.

  “We need to put more ointment on there so the skin doesn’t adhere to the bandage.” He retrieved a tube of cream from a drawer by his bedside.

  “I see I don’t have much of a choice.”

  “Not really.” He laid out cream and a new bandage on his lap. “You have to keep up on these things. The bleeding will stop soon. It was a small round.”

  He unwrapped the strip. She’d always remember what the hole in her arm looked like.

  She winced as he pulled off the final piece of bloodied wrap.

  “Sorry. It’s off now.”