Chapter 38
BOBBY
“Where the fuck is she?” I lurch up and fight off the medics trying to strap me the fuck down on the gurney. I ain’t going anywhere without my woman. “Where’s Ever?” I sweep my gaze around the wreck.
There are blue and red flashing lights everywhere. I hit my head hard on the side window and blacked out. My last memory, before we were T-boned, was headlights coming at us fast and furious when I glanced over to look at my beautiful Ever.
Slate slams me back onto the gurney. “Stop flopping around like a limp dick. You’re gonna roll off the fucking gurney, man.”
“Ever, where the fuck is she?” I demand through clenched teeth. “Tell me she’s at the hospital already. Tell me they have the son of a bitch who rammed us.” I fist his shirt in my hands and yank him to me. “Give me something, Slate.” I’m begging. I’m desperate.
My heart is a sledgehammer against my rib cage.
Bile coats my throat. My stomach is in a knot.
My body is warring with itself. I’m pissed.
I’m ready to hurl. The anger wins out. I knock away the hands trying to keep me down and swing at the officers coming at me.
Ever isn’t here. She’s not at the hospital.
A sense of loss grips my very being and won’t let the fuck go.
I drop to my knees. A ringing cuts through the noise. My cell. Is Ever calling me? Did she walk away from the scene and is lying somewhere, hurt and bleeding?
Fuck. Fuck. I scramble to my feet and run to my truck. Thank fuck I didn’t put the phone on vibrate when with Ever. I answer. “Ever. Where are you, babe? Are you okay?” I’m out of breath and dizzy. I couldn’t give two fucks.
“Thank God you finally answered. I’ve been trying to call you for the past thirty minutes.”
I’ve been out for half an hour?
“Ever’s missing,” I tell Zach. “Someone rammed us the fuck off the road.”
“It’s Corey, Bobby. He’s the one who tried to kill you in Alexandria. It’s my fault.”
I stop short of punching a cop in the face. With one hand up, I put the call on speaker with the other. The cops glare. I tip my chin at the phone. “Zach, you’re on speaker. There are a bunch of badges ready to take me the fuck down. Spill. I need to get to my girl.”
There’s a deep sigh from the other end of the line.
Resigned. Remorseful. “I started with Iris’s cell first when I should’ve started with Jules.
Corey’s been calling Jules nonstop since he started his leave two weeks ago.
He called me yesterday. You know, us on the same unit and all, except we got out first, and he stayed to finish off his years.
Not thinking of it, still working on getting numbers and names from the call logs, I told him you finally asked for that favor, you know, for you saving my life?
I told him what I was doing for you. He hung up.
Fucking hung up. I thought it was weird.
Then I ran the call logs for Jules, and his name popped up. It all makes fucking sense, Bobby.”
I ground my teeth. “Buddy, I’d love to hear this shit, but time is against us. Get to the point.”
“They were seeing one another. She dropped him. He got pissed. Said you were to blame. She hadn’t gotten over you, and that’s why she couldn’t marry him.
He went on and on about how he’ll never be better than you in Jules’s eyes and your father’s.
That’s the gist of the back-and-forth text messages. ”
“My father?”
The cop motions for me to put my hands down. I lower my arms. They gather around me and the cell phone.
“Fuck’s sake, Bobby. I saw your sister. Have looked up your half-brothers. Corey has the same color eyes and hair as your half-siblings.”
I flinch like I’ve been slapped. That twinge of familiarity when I met Corey for the first time. His look of wonderment and curiosity when we shook hands and made introductions. He was assigned to my unit in my second year of service.
We fought battles together. Saved each other’s lives more times than we could count. Then something shifted in him the year before Carlos was murdered. He’d come back from leave with a shit-eating grin that slowly morphed into stony silence and an undercurrent of anger.
He took out his anger on me. Went antisocial. Didn’t say a fuck to me afterward. After six months of dealing with his shit, I asked for a reassignment. Zach wanted to do the same. I asked him to stick around and keep an eye on Corey. Thank fuck he owed me two favors and agreed.
“He’s my fucking brother?!”
“Yes.”
“Fuck.” I point at Slate. “Call my father.” If anything happens to me, he’s to call Branson.
“Bobby?”
“Yeah, man?”
“There’s another number on here. A burner. I traced it to a hotel twenty miles from your location.”
He gives me the address. Me, Slate, and Gage hurry to Slate’s truck. The cops get in their cruisers with lights and sirens.
“Gear still under the seats?” I ask Slate.
“Hell yeah.”
“Good. Let’s lock and load.”
We grab guns, NVGs, and bulletproof vests from under the seats and pile into the truck. Slate’s driving. We’ve strategically put Gage in the middle. He doesn’t have military training. When we get to the hotel, me and Slate will evac the truck first.
I keep Zach on the line while we wait for Branson to answer Slate’s call. Slate has his cell on a phone clip, and it’s on speaker. The call goes to voicemail. Slate tells his phone to call Branson again. Branson picks up on the third ring.
“This better be an emergency, Slate.”
“It is,” I growl, leaning over a stewing Gage.
What will Ever’s father, Cormac Moretti, do to his son, Gage, and their crew for not keeping an eye on his little girl and letting her get kidnapped? Fuck, what’s he going to do to me? I clench my jaw. Like Ever said, bring it. I deserve whatever he doles out for not protecting his daughter.
“Who the fuck is Corey Manchester, Dad?”
There’s a deafening silence on the other line. I don’t wait for Branson to speak. Time is against us. “He rammed my truck. Kidnapped my woman. He fucking took Gwen’s best friend, Ever. Is he your fucking son?”
“Yes.” One word said on a strangled breath.
“How many more kids?”
“That’s it, I swear.”
“If he hurts her, I’ll break your legs and crush your balls with my boots. You’ll never father any more children.”
“Bobby.”
“Shut it, Dad.”
“I’m sorry, Son. This is all my fault.”
“What are you talking about? What else have you done other than screw over your wife and Gwen? Keep it in your fucking pants!”
“I am. I have. He was the last, Bobby. He adored you. All I spoke about was how proud I was that you followed in Bram and Benedict’s footsteps and joined the marines.
Was even more proud when I heard you’re the owner of Crimson nightclub.
I went on and on about you, and looking back, I should’ve shut my trap.
He’s jealous, Bobby. Then Jules broke up with him.
She was still in love with you. I heard them arguing.
That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. ”
Slate drives like a madman, and we’re at the hotel. An officer sticks out his arms. We brake in front of him. He runs up to my window. “Burner’s here, but no signs of our guy and your girl.”
“Did you hear that, Dad?” He was proud of me? Corey was jealous? He tried to get a shot through my heart because a heartless bitch turned him down? That kid brother of mine needs a good reaming.
“Don’t hurt him, Bobby. He’s . . . he’s lost, Son.”
“Copy that.” But he’ll pay for Carlos’s murder. He has to. “Anywhere else he’d take Ever? We’re on the outskirts of Montgomery.”
“There is one place. Somewhere I took him when he was younger, before the place closed down.”
The cops gather around the truck. They go quiet.
“We’re all ears,” I say, holding my breath, afraid that if I breathe, I’ll miss my father’s answer.
“Paintball Xtremes.”
The cops nod and run to their cruisers.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Bobby?”
“Yes?”
“I love you. We love you. Be safe. Bring Ever home safe. Otherwise I’ll never hear the last of it from Gwen.”
“Copy that.” I hang up. I find Jules’s number in Slate’s contacts and call her. She answers on the first ring.
“Slate,” she purrs. “Are you calling for a blowie? I never thought you’d ever take me up on the offer. When? Where?”
“It’s me, Jules.”
She laughs. “Ooh, a threesome with my favorite guys. Even better.”
I ground my teeth. “Tell me about you and Corey,” I bark, losing my patience.
“That’s ancient history,” she whines. “You, me, Slate, that’s here and now.”
“Cut the crap, Jules. Corey has my girl. He’s pissed at you for turning down his marriage proposal. He tried taking me out two years ago. Carlos Sanchez lost his life because of me.”
“Not your fault,” Slate hisses. “You didn’t pull the trigger. Corey did.”
I clench my jaw and nod. Slate is a good friend. He’s telling me in his own way that I need to let go of the survivor’s guilt. Carlos did what I would do in a heartbeat. I’d eat a bullet for my friend. For Ever. Even for my dad.
Slate’s right. It was Corey who pulled the trigger. He’s the monster. Rather than talk through his anger and jealousy, he took the extreme, evil route and tried to take me out, the competitor for Jules’s heart. Except I don’t love Jules. Not in the way I love Ever. Ever is my everything.
Jules’s tone is somber when she speaks. “I’m sorry, Bobby, but not my fault you’re hot in bed and no one compares. I might’ve said your name a few times while Corey was fucking me.”
“Fuck me.” Slate shakes his head.
“Disgusting.” Gage directs his steely stare at the parade of red and blue lights in front of us. Cars pull to the right. Slate’s riding the officer’s ass in front of us.
“Disgusting” and “fuck me” sum up how I’m feeling about my ex. I hang up.
We roll up to the cruisers parked in front of an open field. In the distance, I see them: old, dilapidated wooden sheds and forts. I hop out of the truck. Slate and Gage follow. The head cop tips his head at us.
“NVGs?”
“We’re going round the back,” I say. “Except for Gage. He doesn’t have military training.”
“You two do?”
“I was a sniper in the marines. Slate was a breacher.”
The cop’s eyes widen.
“We good?” I put in my comms. Slate puts in his.
“We are. Be careful out there.”
I tip my chin. “You too.”
He turns to leave.
“Hey,” I call after him.
He turns around.
“Bring him in alive. He’s my brother. If he hurt my woman, shoot to kill.”
The cop lifts a brow. “Respectfully, I give the orders.”
“That wasn’t orders.” I smirk. “That’s a heads up on my intentions.”
The cop nods. “We’d better pray he doesn’t lay a finger on the victim.”
Victim, my ass.
Ever is no one’s victim.