by Lowe, Aden
Fabio nodded and she didn't miss the wheels turning in his head. "Okay. He'll be around soon, don't worry. Probably planning some big romantic thing for you." He laughed a little. "Don't you dare tell him I said that."
"I won't." She forced the worry out of her mind and thanked him again and moved away to retrieve her drink tray. Now if only closing time would hurry up and come. No. If only Dix would show up. She pushed back the worry that kept trying to reassert itself.
Chapter Twelve
Fuck. Dix came around slowly. His head felt like Comfort done took her axe to it, and his ribs weren't much better. For that matter, nothing else was good either. Grass under his fingers and crickets singing like mad warned him they'd left him outside and night must have fallen. He stayed still, assessing things, careful not to give any signs of regaining consciousness, just in case they watched.
Dampness seeped through his clothes, suggesting dew had already settled. Other than the bugs and an occasional frog or whippoorwill, no noise gave away his location. Finally he took a chance and let his eyelids lift a little. He made out a few blades of grass right in front of his face, but everything else stayed invisible from his prone position. He listened a bit longer, but when no sounds of traffic or other people came, he took a chance and raised his head.
Nothing but darkness met his gaze. An owl hooted nearby and the frogs fell silent for a moment, but no human sounds interrupted the night. Head banging and threatening to fall off his shoulders, he pushed himself up to a sitting position to attempt to figure out where he was.
Moonlight made the dew on knee-high grass sparkle like some kind of rare gem, and in the distance, the darker hulk of a wooded area stood silhouetted against the sky. From the looks of things, they'd dumped him in the middle of nowhere.
Dix had no way of knowing for certain who they were, but figured it was safe to assume Strafer and his crew were behind his current situation. He took part in plenty of similar events in the past, and knew Belial's favorite techniques for instilling fear in an enemy. An ambush and dump in the middle of nowhere topped the list.
He fished his cellphone from the inside pocket of his cut. Fuck. No service. Georgie was probably furious with him for not showing up like he'd promised. Maybe she wouldn't hate him too much when she learned why. No one could blame her if she figured he regretted his words, though, after he disappeared without a word.
A fresh wave of anger toward Belial and his whole Church assaulted Dix. It fucking figured. The very moment he started to get shit together and make some headway with the woman of his dreams, his fucking past would rear its ugly head to ruin everything.
At the first opportunity, he would gladly put a bullet between Belial's eyes. Delusions of his own innocence never entered his mind. Dix accepted full responsibility for the idiotic choices he made. That lesson took time to learn, but he aced it. Still, without Belial's influence, his youthful rebellion against parental authority and bad shit happening to him would have been fairly benign. Someday, he would make the opportunity and blow the fucker out of this world.
The more immediate issue needed handling first, though. He would have to get out of there under his own steam, and the way his head felt, he might make a mile in a week or so. Numerous smaller injuries paled in comparison. The head and ribs presented real obstacles to getting his ass back home. Just sitting turned his stomach and made his vision waver. And his ribs fucking hurt.
Trying to be careful, he probed gently at the area, not shocked when his fingers came away wet. He shrugged his cut off the left side so he could drag his shirt up to try and see the damage. Blood trickled from a shallow furrow just under his pec but he couldn't tell how much damage there was, or what created it. At least the blood seemed to be clotting. The wound needed to be cleaned and dressed, but he had no way to take care of that at the moment. All he could do was lower his shirt and hope for the best until he reached civilization.
And his head. No mystery there. He'd walked straight into a fucking ball bat. At least that's what it felt like. The attack came with no warning as he entered the bay at the garage. He hit the floor with a busted head right off, and didn't even feel whatever they did to his ribs.
Those seemed to be his only serious injuries though, to his surprise. What did they hope to gain by just knocking him out and dumping him? It would have made more sense to work him over good before they left.
Whatever. Sitting there in the dark wouldn't get him anywhere. He took as much of a deep breath as his ribs would allow and pushed himself to stand. It was touch and go whether he would make to his feet or not, but after about five hours, he stood there shaking like a leaf and wobbly as hell, but upright.
Now what? He didn't even know which direction to stumble. He turned a slow circle, searching for a recognizable detail. Finally, he spotted what might be a ditch line and possibly a lane or road. It seemed as good a direction to head as any, so he started off.
Clumps of thick grass reached to tangle his feet every couple of steps. If that wasn't enough of an obstacle, gopher holes waited to grab him, too. It took some work, but he managed to avoid falling or breaking a leg and finally he stepped across a narrow ditch and onto a dirt lane.
The same decision faced him all over again. He had to choose a direction. Just his luck, no buildings, signs, or anything else to indicate where he might find people. He walked a few steps each way, trying to decide, and found the road followed a very slight incline. In that case, downhill seemed the best option. The way the muscles in his legs trembled, he doubted if uphill was even possible.
He walked what seemed like forever until the lane intersected with a paved road. A nice little rest sounded like the best idea of the year, but Dix had no doubt if he sat down, he wouldn't get up again on his own. Only sheer determination kept him upright anyway. If he gave that up, even for a moment, it would be all over.
Studying the landscape, and the creek that flowed parallel, he thought he finally knew where he was. Iron Wood Road lay west of Stags Leap in a sparsely populated area. Unless he missed his guess, the town waited just over a small rise. Too bad the rise was so far away.
He started walking again, ready to roll into the ditch at the first sign of Strafer and the others. The likelihood of someone waiting to ambush him again just as safety seemed within reach was very high. Unarmed and banged up, he couldn't put up much fight if he ran into them. Better to just avoid it and take the fight to them once he got patched up and had some reinforcements along.
Ferocious growls and splashing from the stream drew his attention. Visions of some huge wild animal stalking him, or something even worse, raced through his head to send cold sweat down his spine. Unwilling to speculate further, he crossed to the bank to see what caused the disturbance.
In the shallows by a broad gravel bar, a pair of raccoons squared off, teeth bared and fur standing on end. If his head hadn't hurt so damn bad, it might have been comical enough to stay and watch. Especially since he'd half worried a mountain lion or bear lay in wait, or one of the demons Belial claimed the ability to summon. Instead, he turned away and went back to the road as the creek erupted with screeches, growls and trills interspersed with heavy splashes.
Back in the day, at first he questioned all the supernatural shit Belial and the others talked about. Even when he started the initiation process, it seemed like theatrics more than anything else. But once he was brought inside the closed circle, he knew for a fact. What looked like smoke and mirrors from outside was all too real and truly terrifying. And running away would only provoke it, so he stayed until he couldn't take the rest any longer.
The shit that came into that circle invaded everything they did on the outside. Dix tried to hold himself above it sometimes, mostly out of fear. But other times, he joined right the fuck in. Like the time they beat down the preacher on the bus. Killed the poor bastard for trying to tell them about Jesus and heaven. After a while, Dix felt suffocated with the evil and tried to move away, until Belial r
aped Sophie for a ritual in retribution.
He took a deep breath, trying to clear the memory of acrid incense from his lungs. A nice cold beer would go down really good. Unfortunately, the nearest beer was probably another five miles away. And the lunch he missed out on would taste pretty nice too, if he ever made it back to the Rattlesnake. Would Georgie forgive him for standing her up? He couldn't blame her if she didn't, since he hadn't called or anything.
Reminded of his phone once more, he fished it out and checked, but still no service. Maybe at the top of the rise he might manage enough to get a text out. The steep hills surrounding Iron Wood Road effectively kept the signal strength at zero everywhere else along its length. He pushed on.
Walking long distances in boots designed to withstand the heat of a bike and stand up to friction on asphalt left a great deal to be desired. The damn things weighed a good twenty pounds apiece. First thing when he got back to town he was trading them in for some sneakers.
In an effort to keep his mind off the weight of his boots and the ache in his shins, and all the other pains, he turned to trying to figure out why Strafer and the others left him alive. A bump on the head hardly fit with Belial's established patterns for vengeance. That bastard never hesitated to order someone's tongue cut out, or a hand chopped off for far lesser offenses than Dix committed against him. He could easily envision the cult leader telling his followers to carve Dix's still-beating heart from his chest.
That left fear as the motive. Belial and/or Lilith wanted Dix to fear them, to know they could reach him anywhere. Or his family. The sexual remarks about his mother struck a nerve and Strafer knew it. A brick of guilt settled into his gut. He still hadn't mustered up the courage to call home and see if they were okay. Instead, he allowed Georgie to divert his fears. Occupied with her, he let it all hide in the back of his mind.
Now… well, now he'd have to deal with it all. So much for keeping the details from Kellen and the Hell Raiders. One hint about being busted on the head and dumped, and Kellen would demand full disclosure. Dix hated the thought of bringing the Raiders into his mess. Maybe Kellen would agree to stand down for a few days and let Dix handle it himself.
Finally, he crested the small hill and Stags Leap lay spread out before him, lit by only a few street lights and the occasional security light for a business. The vast majority of the town lay in complete darkness. Hell, even the Rattlesnake was mostly dark, with just the parking lot lights on.
His phone chirped multiple times, signaling delivery of texts which had to wait for him to gain a signal. Anxious to hear from Georgie, he pulled his phone out to check. Only one came from her, though, and one from Fabio. The other four were from an unsaved number. He checked Georgie's first.
Guess Ur done playing house. Staying home 2nite. Don't bother coming over.
Shit. He didn't even bother looking at the others. She'd sent that a bit over an hour ago, probably as she closed up the Rattlesnake for the night. Frantic to explain, he called her, but only dead air came in response. Not enough signal to call. He barely managed to stop himself from slamming the phone to the pavement.
Instinct demanded he race to her, explain and beg forgiveness. Too bad his body refused to cooperate. Instead he settled for replying to her text, promising he'd meant nothing of the sort and was on his way to her. As soon as he pressed send, he started walking again, fully aware he wouldn't have a signal again until just before he reached the Rattlesnake.
The twenty minutes he took to walk the rest of the way lasted about a million years, but he made it at last. He took the stairs up the back of the bar two at a time, despite the pain in his every cell, and pounded on her door. The booming sound reverberated through his head and brought the darkness piling down on him.
Chapter Thirteen
Georgie stalked back and forth, too pissed to settle down. Rita's apartment seemed smaller with each pass, while her anger grew. She should have known Dix wasn't serious. It figured, just as soon as she started to let her guard down, he showed his true colors. He and the Hell Raiders probably had a bet on whether he could get in her pants or something idiotic like that. Probably broke some kind of record, too.
Well, she'd had enough. He better stay the hell away from her or she'd nail his hide to the wall. She was done having men treat her like shit. From here on out, any man would have to walk through fire to get to her.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Something heavy pounded against her door.
Alarmed, she froze for a second, waiting. No one had a reason to be there. Especially since the Rattlesnake closed over an hour ago.
A muffled thump on the landing sent a chill down the back of her neck.
The .40 sat atop the small table a few feet from the door, ready for emergencies, so Georgie grabbed it, chambered a round, and listened carefully. When no further sounds came after a moment, she flipped the locks and opened the door, gun at the ready.
A body tumbled in and landed in a heap at her feet, a familiar jaw line visible in the dim light. "Dix! Oh my God, what happened?"
He didn't answer.
Torn between taking care of him first and making sure nothing bad waited to follow him inside, she stared for a few seconds, then stepped over him to the door. The lower half of his body still lay outside, so she'd have to figure out how to get him all the way in the apartment.
Out on the landing, she looked everywhere, paying careful attention to the shadows. Nothing moved except the stray dog trotting across the lot, taking a short cut on his rounds. The girls in the kitchen usually left a few scraps for him and the half dozen cats that hung around.
Satisfied no one waited out there, she tucked the .40 into her waistband and turned to get Dix the rest of the way inside. He was way too heavy for her to actually move him, but she couldn't leave him there, half outside. Starting with one foot, after a lot of lifting, tugging and straining, she finally managed to drag and turn him enough to close and lock the door.
She turned the light on and knelt beside him. Dried blood crusted a big lump on the side of his head and mud covered his clothing. She managed to roll him to his back so she could get a better look.
"Oh my God!" The involuntary words came on a gasp as she saw him more clearly. Blood soaked the front of his T-shirt and even the top of his jeans. Other than that and the head injury, he looked undamaged. But the source of all that blood had to be pretty serious. She sat back for a second to think and decide what to do.
Obviously she couldn't move him by herself, and all the Rattlesnake staff were gone for the night. She couldn't call emergency services without knowing the nature of his injuries, since a gunshot wound meant cops and explanations. About the only thing left was to call Kellen or one of the other Hell Raiders to help.
She grabbed her phone where Kellen's number waited in contacts, and at the same time rushed for a pillow and blankets. Dix had to be in shock at the very least and most likely had a concussion. And heaven only knew what kind of injury his shirt hid.
It took an eternity, but Kellen finally answered his phone. "Yeah?" He sounded pissed and sleepy.
She fought the urge to just hang up. Dix needed more help than she could give. "Uh, Kellen, this is Georgie. Dix has been hurt."
"What? Where is he?"
"My apartment over the Rattlesnake. He just showed up at my door, passed out."
"How bad?"
"I don't know yet." She went on to explain what she could see of Dix's injuries, and that she needed help with him. Hopefully Kellen didn't think she was some kind of idiot for calling him.
"Okay, I'll have someone there in five minutes or less. Don't open the door unless they say I sent them, understand?"
"Okay. Thank you. I didn't know what to do." Relief made her knees sag.
"You did the right thing, Georgie. Now, let me make some calls and I'll see you in a few minutes."
The line went dead, leaving her to stand there and listen to her heart pound in her ears. Water. She would need hot water to get
him cleaned up.
And a first aid kit. Shit. She didn't have so much as a damn bandaid in the house. Thankfully Rita never compromised on safety and kept a top of the line kit in the kitchen downstairs. Better go ahead and grab it before help arrived. Every second saved could mean a vast difference for Dix. She tossed the blanket over him and took a moment to slip the pillow under his head, then grabbed her keys.
The first impulse to leave the door standing open seemed like a bad idea, since she had no idea who might have followed him just to wait for another chance. She pulled the door closed behind her and hurried down the stairs to the back door. With luck she'd be back well before whoever Kellen sent arrived. If not, they could wait.
The damn lock on the back door stuck and gave her grief, but finally clicked over and let her in. She raced past the food prep and clean up areas to the wash sink and snatched the big red metal case from the wall bracket. Damn thing weighed more than she expected, forcing her to adjust her grip and slow down. It took a moment longer than she wanted, but she made it to the door finally, and out. She set the box between her feet to find the right key and re-lock the door.
Sudden pressure on her hair jerked her head back and down, bringing her to her knees. She grabbed the first aid kit and swung it at her assailant. The weight made her shoulder grind with pain and she dropped it.
A blade pricked at the side of her neck. "Don't fucking move, bitch."
The sharp edges of limestone gravel dug painfully into her knees as she froze. Searching for some advantage, she decided to play along for the moment. "Don't hurt me, please. I'll do whatever you want."
Footsteps approached and another male joined in. "Stupid cunt. Don't try to play me." Where had she heard that voice before?
Dammit, she had to do something fast. Real tears rolled down her cheeks from the pain of the pressure on her scalp. The gun she'd tucked into her waistband earlier dug into her belly, reminding her of its presence.