Badges (Black Gulch Ranch #5)

1. Welcome to the shit show

Welcome to the shit show

Wade

What kind of shit show am I rolling up on?

Blue and Libby are laid out in the dirt, and there’s a Jeep tits deep into a concrete barricade.

“Paige, check that rig. I’m keying in on Blue. Holler if you need me.” I barely slam my truck into park before I’m hustling towards my fallen buddy.

Libby’s kneeling over him, tears busting down her face like she’s trying to refill a lake.

“Wade, call an ambulance,” she cries, clutching at his chest.

Before I even get a closer look, I can see Blue’s pale skin, and he’s out colder than a December morning.

Fuck.

I radio in to dispatch, then trot back to fetch my first aid kit.

“Paige? What’s with that one?” I call across the hood to my deputy.

She pops her head away from the window of the vehicle. “Unconscious female. Looks like a good knot on her forehead.”

Well, double damn it.

“Ambulance is on their way.” I might just go ahead and rush Blue down myself.

When I catch a glimpse of the dusty trail tear-assing down the road of another squad car, I know that’s the best option.

“I’m taking Blue in. You good?” I shout over my shoulder as I run back to my friend.

“Yep. She’s out cold but breathing steady. I’ll cuff her to the steering wheel if she starts to wake up.” Paige leans against the open door, and I can hear her voice crackle over the radio checking on the EMT’s time frame.

“Libby? What happened?” I squat next to Blue, tugging out a wad of gauze and tape to start wrapping his wound.

“That—that asshole blew up one of my tanks. So when they were trying to get away, I pulled my pistol—” Her voice quiets as she gently strokes Blue’s hair away from his face. “He came out of nowhere.” She bites her trembling lower lip.

“Hey, he’s gonna be okay. Let’s get him loaded in my truck. Grab his feet.” Geez he’s heavy.

For as lean and lanky as he is, I didn’t expect him to weigh this much.

All those gym days are paying off.

“Libby,” Blue groans, his eyes fluttering before he fades back out.

“I’m here.” She crawls into the backseat with him, talking in low tones the entire high speed drive.

I call in to the hospital and give them a head’s up, so the nurses meet us at the front entrance to the emergency room with a gurney with a familiar giant of man standing behind them.

“Dixon, so glad you’re on tonight.” I rush to the back of my Dodge and fling it open, then help drag Blue’s limp body onto the stretcher.

Dixon’s dark brows are furrowed as he takes the handle and begins to tug Blue quickly in through the automatic doors.

“Can I go?” Libby follows hesitantly.

“You should get checked out, too. He’s in good hands.” I take her elbow, steering her inside the air conditioned lobby.

She’s caked with dirt, with pebbles still bedded into her blond hair. One falls out as she nods.

I call over one of the nurses who ushers Libby into one of the side rooms, leaving me standing alone in the empty entry.

It’s always a flurry of activity, then a dead stop.

I should be used to it by now, but the sudden halt always makes me wary that something else will drop.

My dad said this crap runs in threes.

Taking a deep breath, I fold myself into one of the waiting room seats until the ambulance shows up.

Occasionally, my radio squawks giving me an update on their arrival.

Nearly two years of wondering about the bull puckey going on with the ranch attacks, and this is the first survivor. Floods of questions rattle around in my head, so I busy myself with jotting them down as I impatiently sit.

The longer I’m crammed in this chair, the more irritable I get.

Pain, trauma, and not to mention, the money lost. It adds up until the anger is boiling inside of me.

Kidnappings, rape, assault, theft, sabotage.

So many fucking crimes, and this miscreant will finally give me some answers.

Ambulance lights flicker across my chest when they pull in, refracted from the windows overlooking the bay.

I know better than to rush right in. Dixon would kick my ass out before I could get a single sentence out.

Paige saunters through the door a few moments later, then slumps into the chair next to me.

“Did she wake up?” I don’t glance up from my notebook. I keep thinking of new things to ask the perp.

“Yea, but didn’t say a damn thing. Just glared at me while they loaded her up. Rattled her cuffs a couple of times,” she snickers. “I bet she knows she’s screwed.”

“Did you get a chance to run her prints?” An ID would be handy before walking in there.

But Paige shakes her head. “Didn’t have a signal. I’ll go try again.” She pushes herself up and adjusts her gun belt when she stands. “Wanna join me in the parking lot?” Her smirk betrays the innuendo behind her words.

This on again, off again affair behind her husband’s back gets exhausting.

“I have to finish this.” I wave my pen over the half-filled page. “Rain check,” I grumble, looking back down to my notes.

As tempting as a good nut is to relieve some of this prickly tension that makes the little hairs on the back of my neck stand, I don’t want to look like I’m at her beck and call.

She shrugs, turning on her heel.

I wonder how many times I can turn her down before she starts getting pissed?

Something to worry about later. I got bigger fish to fry.

“Wade?” Dixon’s deep voice calls from the door to the ER.

I hop up, tilting my broad brimmed hat back. “Yup. Ready?”

He drops his chin before turning away. “She’s conscious and lucid. Waiting on the x-rays to come back, but if they’re clear, she’s all yours.”

Stopping short, I almost run into his broad back. He’s taller than me, although not by much.

“You gotta find out what’s going on,” he growls. “Because it’s hard wanting to treat her if she’s the one behind all of this—” His palm waves through the air. “—chaos.”

“I get it. I’ll find out.” I have to find out who she is first.

When I push open the door to the room, it takes me a moment to lock onto the thin form beneath the blankets.

But when the woman’s obsidian eyes lock on me, a shard of ice races down my spine.

Footsteps behind me are short warning of Paige approaching.

Those dark pools narrow as the ghost of my past resurrects itself from the hidden box I’ve fought to keep locked tight.

Paige clears her throat. “Her name is—”

“Maria—” I exhale.

“—Elena Evans.” Paige finishes from next to me.

Fucking Christ.

It’s her daughter.