CHAPTER THIRTY #2
Someone shining a light in my eyes has me turning my head away. I feel more than a twinge in my side as I move and hiss with the sharp pain. Turning back, I see that it isn’t a flashlight but sunlight between the drapes.
“Morning, sleepyhead. How are feeling now?” Cork asks from the chair by the bed. He looks so uncomfortable in that thing.
“I could use a glass of water and then maybe visit the bathroom.” I try a smile, but my dry lips don’t want to cooperate.
“Glass of water is easily remedied. Visit to the bathroom, I may have to ask Stitch. He didn’t want you up and about for a couple of days.” Cork looks all apologetic and yet ready to argue.
“The day I have to ask Stitch, or any member of the Raging Barons MC, for permission to use my own bathroom, will be the day they put me six foot under. Give me that drink and then you can help me into the bathroom. I don’t trust my legs.
” I empty the glass in one go and smack my lips as if it were champagne.
“I was ready for that. Now, get me to the bathroom before I embarrass myself.”
Back in bed, I have to admit, I feel like I’ve run a marathon. I’m sweating badly and feeling sick.
“Now that I’m bedridden again and not going anywhere, can you get me a bowl or something?
I think that the water is stale and we should get it checked out.
You can tell me who I saw running toward me, if it wasn’t you and Colt.
” Settling back I wait for the story to unfold.
Cork disappears and returns with a wastebasket from the office we created downstairs.
“The two assholes who came to the ranch looking for me…” I laugh at this, and it hurts. “Why are you laughing?” Cork asks.
“I’m laughing because that’s exactly how I thought of them. Asshole one and asshole two. When I was following Winter’s rules for picking out the most threatening target, asshole one wouldn’t shut his mouth and hadn’t raised his weapon, so asshole two had to die first. Assholes!”
“You actually took the time to work out who you were going to kill first?” Cork looks astounded by my admission.
“Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I? Isn’t that what you would have done?”
“Well, yeah, but…”
“But what, Cork? You’d rather be digging a hole right now than watching me recover?
They came to kill you, and I wasn’t going to sit back and let them do it.
They would have killed you, me and Colt and then burned the place to the ground.
Not necessarily in that order. They said they wanted to take everything from you, and that’s what they were going to do.
Well, not on my freakin’ watch they weren’t.
” I’m puffing and panting like an old steam train by the time I’ve finished chewing him out.
“Alright, calm down. You’ll pull a stitch or something.” Cork takes a breath himself and then continues with the story. “Anyway...The guys you thought were me and Colt weren’t…”
“No shit, Sherlock,” I mutter.
“Dallas! For God’s sake,” Cork mutters back.
“You remember the night that we went and blew up the still? We let three go? Well, it seems that two of them have been working themselves up all this time wanting payback. They’ve been digging into the Raging Barons' background as well as mine. They didn’t get much on me because there isn’t anything to get.
Apparently, they found out that we used to be real badasses and into all sorts of illegal shit, but then Pres drug us out of the gutter and got us clean.
They thought we’d become pussies and didn’t look past that.
Guy number three, on the other hand, saw it as an epiphany and decided he wanted to go clean too.
He began cleaning up his act without telling the others.
Don’t get me wrong, he’s not yet a model citizen and admits that he may stay in the gray area, but he isn’t killing and persecuting anymore.
When the two anti-heroes started plotting to kill me, he went along with it on the surface, but he had his own guys looking out for us, too.
They were the ones in the pickup. They were tasked with watching for any move by the assholes that guy three didn’t get told about. ”
“We were worried about the wrong guys all along?”
“Yup, apparently so. When guy three heard that the assholes were coming back to town, he got him and his number two out here pronto and kept tabs on them. They were already going to take the assholes out from the trees when you blew their plan out of the water by opening the ball game before they could. Mike, that’s guy three’s name, or the name he gave us anyway, he was mighty impressed with you.
Said you were as cool as a cucumber through the whole thing.
When he saw you go down, they were already running to make sure the assholes weren’t going to get up.
When he saw where you were hit, he fired three shots in the air and rushed you inside the house and got to work on your wound.
Had the bullet out by the time Colt and I got here.
Him and his number two dumped their weapons on the porch so everyone would know they were unarmed.
Your daddy didn’t get that memo, though.
He saw them carrying you into the house, grabbed one of the weapons off the porch and stormed in, guns blazing.
Luckily, he grabbed the weapon and didn’t know how to check it first. The safety was on, and so when he rushed in, he didn’t get to shoot anyone. ”
“Daddy tried to rescue me? Oh, my hero!” I blink back a tear as I think about that.
“You know your daddy has never fired a weapon in his life, don’t you?
He was running with a semi-automatic rifle pointed at the three of you.
If that thing hadn’t been on safety, he could’ve killed you just as quick as he could've killed them. I think we should enroll him with Target so that doesn’t happen again. ”
“So you’re saying that I got saved from the baddies by a baddie? Is that right?” I’m a little confused by all this, to be honest, and not sure I’ve followed it correctly. I feel sick and a little dizzy, too.
“You were saved by a reformed baddie from his two ex-baddie partners. Yeah. That’s it.” Cork shrugs as though it’s the most natural explanation in the world.
“Not feeling too good? Yeah, Stitch mentioned that.” Cork frowns at me with concern, and then he grins at my discomfort.
“I suppose you think it’s funny that I’m the one feeling bad and you get to play nursemaid for a change, huh? At least mine was a gunshot, a real wound. Not a sissy bottle on the head.”
“Hell, it has nothing to do with you being shot. That’ll be healed in a month. You've got another eight months or so before you’re healed of what’s making you sick. You’re pregnant, my beautiful, perfect wife. We’re going to be parents!”