51. Indie
Chapter 51
Indie
I hear the gunshot, see it even. Everything around me grinds to a halt, and though it’s cliché as hell, time literally slows. There’s this moment where I register that the muzzle of Lennox’s gun is pointed right at me, that the bullet he fires will hit me. I’ve been shot at before. Hell, I’ve been shot before. But I’m not fast enough to dodge a bullet. I’m going to die here.
Because of my dad.
Above all, that’s the thought that registers loudest. He brought this man here. My dad is the reason this man knows anything about me. He’d promised my help to a crime boss despite knowing how I’d feel about it all. Despite the way I’d looked him in the eye in court and admitted I didn’t know who my father was anymore because it certainly isn’t this man. All of that flickers through my mind in the split second between the gun firing and the moment I know I’m going to die.
I’m shoved sideways brutally, so hard, I go sprawling across the concrete, scraping up my arms. Confusion fills me as I look up at the man now standing in my place, at the way he presses his hand to his stomach while he throws a knife that hits Lennox in the hand, forcing him to drop his gun. I stare up at him, watch him, as he turns towards me.
Beau grins despite the way blood wells between his fingers. “Couldn’t let my Indie bird get hurt,” he wheezes, and then collapses right in front of me.
I gasp, realizing what had happened, and scramble across the concrete to him, rolling him over so I can put pressure on the bullet wound as quickly as possible. I’ve done this before. I’ve done it in war. But I don’t want to be doing it right now.
I’m not fast enough to dodge a bullet. But Beau Rogers is fast enough. He’s fast enough to shove me out of the way and take the bullet meant for me. He’s fast enough to take the bullet and throw a knife before he collapses.
“No, no, no, no, no,” I mumble as I press my hand to the bullet wound, trying to stop the blood flow like I’d seen the soldiers do in the field over and over again, like I’ve done. I try not to think about how many of those soldiers still died.
“Indie!” I hear my dad shout, but I don’t bother looking up, not until Lennox responds to him.
“Move one more step toward her and I’ll shoot you next,” Lennox threatens him. I glance up and see him stop, see his face crumbling as he steps back in line.
I was right. I don’t know who that man is. He’s certainly not my dad.
At the same time as this happens, I realize that I’m not alone here. I may be the one putting pressure on Beau’s bullet wound, but Ram and Tripp are still at my side. Ram pulls a gun from who knows where and holds it in front of him, his eyes hard.
“You don’t pull a gun unless you intend to use it,” Lennox says, his hand held against his chest while he uses his left hand to hold a gun one of his backup gives him.
“Who says I don’t intend to use it?” Ram growls and gives no other warning. He pulls the trigger and fires at the nearest man in a suit.
Darla screams and takes off running to the barn without a look back. Fuck everyone else, I guess.
Tripp grabs me from behind and starts to drag me away.
“He needs pressure!” I scream. “He’s bleeding out!”
“Get her out of here,” Beau gasps from where he lies on the concrete.
“I’m not leaving him,” Tripp grunts as I fight him. “Get out of the line of fire, scribbler, so I can get him without worrying you’ll get shot, too.”
He shoves me behind his truck wheel, making sure I’m concealed from the gunfire happening on the other side, before he dives back out for Beau. Ram fires slowly, prolonging his bullets while Tripp focuses on getting Beau to safety. He grabs Beau’s arms and with a heave, drags him around the truck. Beau’s shout of pain goes right through me and panic really sets in.
I pull out my phone and dial 911. How far is the nearest emergency room capable of handling a bullet wound to the stomach? It can’t be close. Fuck!
It rings and someone picks up on the other end. “911. What’s your?—”
“Shoot out involving the Crows at Fairview Acres! Bullet wound to stomach that needs immediate attention. We need an airlift,” I shout down the line before dropping the phone. I don’t hang up. I leave it listening as I put pressure on Beau’s wound again, trying to staunch the flow of blood.
“Did that look cool?” Beau rasps, his voice rough with pain. “Was it hot?
“So cool,” I reassure him. “So hot. Now, hold on for me. I need you to hold on.”
He smiles up at me, his eyes bright despite the pain he’s in. “Til death do us part, huh?” he asks. “I’d make those vows to you if you’d let me.”
“You’re not getting out of this that easily,” I growl, my eyes welling. I can’t stop the tears as they start to fall, my panic taking over. Ram still fires at them and bullets still ping against Tripp’s truck and the ground, and all the while, I’m desperately crying over a rodeo clown who flirted too close to death this time.
Beau reaches up and wipes at my cheeks. “Don’t cry for me, Indie bird,” he coos. His face hardens with his next words. “I’ll find you in every lifetime.”
Not a promise. A threat.
His arm goes limp.
“No!” I growl. “You wake up! Beau, wake up!”
“We’ve gotta move!” Tripp growls. “We’re sittin’ ducks if we stay here!”
“We can’t move!” Ram growls back as he dips behind the truck to reload. “If we move, they’ll pick us off!”
How fast are the police out here? I don’t know. I don’t know anything. In the city, things would be different. Cops would be blazing at breakneck speed at the sound of a shootout. No one would even have to call. Here though, things are different.
For a second, I think our luck has run out, that we’re still going to all die out here, or at least Beau will if we don’t get him to the hospital fast enough. Our luck doesn’t change because of some miracle, or some great intervention from above.
No. It comes in the form of a senile old man who doesn’t remember his own son.
“Who the hell are you people?” Fred Jr. shouts as he steps out onto the porch of the big house. “Get off my property!”
And then he fires what sounds like a goddamn cannon at the bastards behind us.
Tripp swears. “He’s gonna get himself killed.” And then he pauses, as if that thought doesn’t exactly bother him. I see the moment he debates it, see him hesitate, before his eyes flick to mine. “Fuck!” he snarls, before he grabs Ram’s gun and leaps up, firing at the Crows instead. Someone shouts in pain, and I hear their body hit the ground. “Goddamned old man is firing a fucking shotgun. Be careful of the spray. He don’t exactly think we should belong here either,” he tells us.
I hear Lennox swear. “I’m getting sick of you city girls coming out here and messing up my plans,” he snarls.
Anger fills me as Ram takes over putting pressure on Beau’s wound. I leap to my feet, my hands dripping with blood that isn’t mine, fury splitting me in half. This all could have been avoided. None of this had to happen. I grab the gun from Tripp and level it on Lennox, my arms steady.
“Yeah, well, this city girl is equally sick of you city assholes fucking things up for the rest of us,” I snarl. “You’re outnumbered now. I suggest you leave before I add another body to the pile.”
Lennox’s face twists. “You can’t hit?—”
I fire, hitting the concrete right beside his toe, making him leap into the air in surprise. Respect flashes in his gaze as he narrows them on me.
“Next time, I won’t miss,” I warn.
The three men who’d gotten out of the cars are lying on the concrete, not moving. Only Lennox and my dad still stand, both of them pressed against the car to avoid Tripp’s dad where he still waves his shotgun around and shouts at the fucking sky. So far, he hasn’t noticed me standing here with the gun pointed. If he does, we may be in trouble again.
“Fine,” Lennox spits. “I’m man enough to know when I’ve been had.” He tips up his chin. “Clearly, I should have brought more men with me for this little expedition.”
“You should take them with you and get out of the Green River Basin,” Tripp growls. “We don’t need you here.”
Lennox smiles and it makes me uneasy as he laughs. He cradles one hand against his chest, has a gun pointed at him, and he still smiles. “Oh, you cowboys are all the same,” he says, shaking his head. “You don’t know when you’ve already lost.”
“Seems to me we’re winning,” I point out, gesturing to his car. “Get in and drive away. If you’d like to stay, I’m sure the cops will relish getting their hands on you.”
Lennox snorts. “They have before. It didn’t stop me.” He looks me up and down. “Something tells me you and I aren’t finished yet, Indie Chen. I’ll be seeing you around.”
He turns and moves over to the driver’s side door of the first car. He opens it and looks over at my dad.
My dad hesitates, his eyes locked on me.
“ Bá ba ?” I say, and I know I’m asking him to choose with that one word. Me, or the world you found yourself in? The little girl you used to dress up like a superhero for, or the man who holds your leash now?
Choose me , my eyes say, begging him. Please, let him choose me. Let him be the man he once was, the man I miss with my whole heart.
“Come on, Hao,” Lennox snarls. “We don’t have time for a heart to heart.”
“You people have three seconds to get off my property!” Fred Jr. shouts, his gun waving wildly in the air. “One!”
Dad takes a step back, away from me, and my heart shatters.
“I’m sorry,” he rasps, turning to the car. “I really am.”
“Two!” Fred Jr. shouts.
“Yeah,” I rasp. “Me, too.”
And then he climbs into the passenger seat. Lennox smirks at me and climbs in himself. The car starts and they head down the driveway at a speed that shouldn’t be safe, but Lennox clearly knows how to drive. He makes it to the highway so fast, I wonder how he does it.
I have no time to mourn the loss of my dad. I can’t focus on that. Instead, I drop to my knees beside Beau again.
“An ambulance should be on the way,” I say, reaching for my phone where I’d dropped it. The call is still connected so I press it to my ear.
“No time!” Ram growls. “He’s going to bleed out unless we get him somewhere fast. Tripp, help me get him in the truck.”
“Are there emergency vehicles en route?” I ask on the phone as I hold the door open and watch them left Beau into the back seat. I leap up into the back seat with him and press my hand to the wound.
“Air lift is fifteen minutes out,” the operator answers.
“Good. We’ll meet them halfway.” I toss the phone to Ram when he climbs into the passenger seat. “Tell them the road we’re taking.”
Tripp rushes around the front of the truck, but before he can get around the nose, another loud crack explodes and we all duck on instinct.
Tripp turns toward his dad with a snarl. “Cut it out, old man! You tryin’ to kill your own son?”
“I ain’t got no sons!” Fred Jr. shouts. “This is my land! You don’t belong on it and you ain’t no son of mine!” He opens the barrel and pops in two more rounds. “Ain’t no son of mine! No sons!”
Tripp stares at him for two long seconds before he tips his head. “Really look at me,” he says. “You don’t know who I am?”
“I don’t know Jack from Jill of any you assholes! Get off my property before I send you off it in a body bag!”
Tripp nods. “My mistake, sir. Have a good day.”
He climbs into the truck and fires it up, not looking at anyone else.
“It’s okay,” Ram says, his eyes on the man still on the porch. “Let your dad die. It’s what he did to his dad. It’s what he would do for you.” He looks over at Tripp before turning back to look at me. “Both of you.”
Nobody’s son. Nobody’s daughter. Tripp Savage and I have more in common than I ever thought we could.
“Go,” I croak. “Go fast.”
Tripp pushes the pedal to the floor and his diesel truck roars as we lurch forward.