Chapter 18 Cut Loose #3
Fuck. I didn't need an ambulance. Didn't need the police reports or the insurance claims or any official record of what had just happened. Because if this was sabotage, if someone had deliberately cut my brakes, then getting the authorities involved would just complicate everything.
Troy and his people operated outside the normal channels for a reason. Adding the police to the mix would only slow them down.
I heard an engine roar. Tires squealing. Then Dmitri's black SUV came around the corner going too fast and pulled up onto the sidewalk near my wrecked truck.
Troy was out before the vehicle fully stopped. He pushed through the crowd without apologizing, his eyes locked on me with an intensity that made my chest feel tight.
“Declan.” He grabbed my face and turned my head to check the cut on my forehead. His hands were shaking. “Are you okay?”
“I'm fine. Just shaken up.”
“You're bleeding.”
“Head wounds always bleed more than they should. I'm fine.” I caught his wrists and held on. “Troy, my brakes were completely gone.”
His expression went hard. “Someone cut the lines.”
“Yeah.”
Dmitri appeared beside us. He took one look at my truck and swore in Russian. Then he turned to the crowd. “Everyone back up. Give him some space. The show is over.”
“We need to get you out of here before the ambulance arrives,” Dmitri said to me. “And before the police show up asking questions.”
“The truck needs to be towed,” I said.
“I'll handle the truck. You go with Troy.” Dmitri was already pulling out his phone. “I know a guy who does discreet towing. No questions. No paperwork. He takes the truck to a shop I trust, and we figure out exactly what was done to it.”
“What about these people?” I gestured at the crowd still watching. “They saw the crash. Someone called 911.”
“Let me worry about that.” Dmitri moved toward the nearest bystander and started talking in that charming way he had that made people cooperate without realizing they were being managed.
Troy grabbed my arm. “Can you walk?”
“Yeah.” I took a step. My ribs screamed in protest. My head swam. But I stayed upright. “I need to get my things from the truck.”
“I'll get them. Just sit in the car.”
“Troy—”
“Sit. In. The. Car.” His voice left no room for argument.
I made my way to Dmitri's SUV and climbed into the passenger seat slowly because every movement hurt. My whole body felt like one giant bruise layered on top of the existing bruises.
Through the windshield I watched Troy move around my destroyed truck. He grabbed my gym bag from the back seat. My jacket from the passenger side. The first aid kit from under the seat.
Then he paused. Reached for the discreet bag sitting on the floorboard, the one from the lingerie shop.
I saw him freeze. Saw him look inside. Saw his expression shift into awareness before he grabbed it and everything else and headed back to the SUV.
He put everything in the back seat and climbed into the driver's seat. Didn't look at me.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
He started the engine and pulled away from the scene while Dmitri stayed behind talking to the crowd. Convincing them the situation was handled. That no ambulance was needed. That everything was under control.
We drove in silence for two blocks. Troy's hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel. His jaw was clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping.
“Say it,” I said finally.
“Say what?”
“Whatever you're thinking so hard about that you're about to break the steering wheel.”
His hands loosened slightly. “I'm thinking about how you almost died. Again. Less than twenty-four hours after someone shot at us.”
“I'm okay.”
“You're not okay. You're bleeding and bruised, and you just crashed your truck because someone sabotaged it.” He took a sharp turn. “This is escalating, Declan. First the shooting. Now this. They're getting bolder.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” He glanced at me. “Because when I got that call, when you said you crashed, I thought—” His voice broke. “I thought I was going to lose you.”
The raw fear in his voice made my chest tight.
“You didn't,” I said quietly.
“Not this time.” His jaw clenched. “But what about the next time? What if they rig the brakes differently instead of just cutting a line? What if they don't miss with the next shot?”
“Then we make sure there isn't a next time.” I reached over and put my hand on his thigh. “We find them first.”
“And until then?”
“Until then we keep breathing. Keep moving. Keep fighting.” I squeezed his leg. “I'm not going to live scared, Troy. That's not who I am.”
“I know.” He pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. Turned to face me. “I know that's not who you are. But fuck, Declan. I just got you. I just got this. And I'm not ready to lose it because some asshole wants me dead.”
“You're not going to lose me.”
“You can't promise that.”
“No. But I can promise I'm going to do everything I can to make sure it doesn't happen.” I touched the cut on my forehead and winced. “Starting with being more careful about checking my truck before I drive it.”
He reached over and touched the cut gently. “Let's get you inside. Get you cleaned up before Dmitri gets back and starts lecturing both of us.”
“He's going to have a field day with this.”
“Yeah. He is.” Troy got out of the truck and came around to my side. Opened my door. “Come on.”
We went into the house. Inside was quiet and empty except for the two of us.
Troy led me to the bathroom and made me sit on the closed toilet while he grabbed the first aid kit. He started cleaning the cut on my forehead with the antiseptic that stung like hell.
“This needs stitches,” he said.
“It's fine.”
“It's not fine.” He applied the pressure with gauze. “Hold this.”
I held it while he rummaged through the kit for the butterfly bandages.
“You're good at this,” I said.
“Had a lot of practice.” He pulled my hand away and applied the butterfly bandages carefully. “There. Should hold until we can get someone to look at it properly.”
“I'm fine, Troy.”
“Stop saying that.” He stepped back. “This whole situation is completely fucked and getting worse by the hour.”
I stood up and moved toward him. “Then we figure it out. Together. Like we said we would.”
“How? How do we figure this out when we don't even know who we're fighting?” His voice cracked. “They could be anyone. Could hit us anywhere. Could already be planning the next attack while we're standing here.”
I grabbed his face and made him look at me. “We stay alert. We trust Dmitri and Luka. We don't give up. And we don't let the fear control us.”
“Fear is keeping us alive right now.”
“Maybe. But it's not going to solve this.” I kissed him. Quick and hard. “We're going to be okay.”
“You don't know that.”
“No. But I'm choosing to believe it anyway.” I let him go and headed toward the bedroom. “I need to change. Get out of these clothes.”
“Declan.” His voice stopped me at the doorway. “I saw what you bought.”
I turned. He was holding the bag from the lingerie shop. He'd opened it at some point and was looking at the tissue-wrapped contents with an expression I couldn't quite read.
“Yeah,” I said. “I saw the shop on the way home. Made an impulse purchase.” The heat crept up my neck. “Thought you might like them.”
“You bought me lingerie.”
“Is that okay?”
He looked up at me. His eyes were wet. “You almost died, and you still stopped to buy me lingerie.”
“Didn't almost die until after the purchase.” I moved back toward him. “And yeah. I wanted to get you that. Wanted to have something between us that felt normal.”
Troy set the bag down. He crossed the space between us and kissed me with enough force to make my split lip sting and my bruised ribs ache.
I kissed him back anyway.