Chapter 11 #2
Wyatt glared at the two men with blood running down his temple. “Let her go,” he rasped.
Will grunted. “You’re bleeding. Maybe you should focus on your own wounds and leave Letty to me.”
Wyatt didn’t look at him; he looked at Letty as Will paced next to her. He stopped to raise his voice. “You got the grant. I got audited. I needed money to fix the audit findings, and Hargrove needed leverage. Driscoll needed money. Everyone had a role.”
Letty’s voice was steady. “You killed people.”
Will shrugged. “Collateral happens in research.”
WYATT
Will’s calm cracked for a fraction of a second, just enough to show what lived underneath. “You don’t get to define truth,” he grumbled. “You get to document it. And you document what I allow.”
Behind Will, Driscoll shifted. Wyatt watched the muscle, not the mastermind.
Wyatt’s eyes slid to Driscoll, barely a glance.
That was all it took. Driscoll moved fast as Wyatt slammed into him, grabbing the gun as Driscoll’s finger found the trigger, making a wild shot.
Sparks flared as the round hit metal. The shot ricocheted off the walls.
Wyatt moved immediately, pulling Letty behind him as Driscoll scrambled away.
Wyatt searched for Will, who called out. “You should’ve taken the genius and not the grunt.”
Letty gasped, dropping low as Wyatt pivoted, shoving her behind a stack of crates with his shoulder. “Stay down,” he snapped.
“I’m not…”
“Down.” His voice carried something that left no space for argument.
She got down.
Wyatt advanced, his mind tuned to keeping her safe as Driscoll used shelving as cover. Not the best choice of cover. Wyatt tracked movement, adjusting angles, pushing the fight away from Letty.
A faint click sounded behind him. The sound wasn’t a gun. His brain processed the sound: a door latch. Wyatt spun around. Will wasn’t where he’d been.
A shape slammed into Wyatt’s side. Pain flared right along the old scar that ran from his ribs toward his spine. That was a knife. Wyatt grunted, body reacting before his brain finished processing. He caught the attacker’s wrist, twisted hard, and drove an elbow back.
The blade ripped free, tearing through tissue that had once been stitched and healed. Warm blood soaked his shirt as the smell of iron filled the air. He heard Letty’s sharp inhale, and then her voice rose, furious: “Wyatt!”
Wyatt forced his weight steady as the attacker stumbled back. Light caught his face. Driscoll stood with the knife now in his left hand, eyes wide like he hadn’t expected resistance. Wyatt’s mouth curved in a grim, humorless half-smile. “Bad move!”
Driscoll lunged again as Wyatt shot him in the shoulder, making Driscoll scream and drop the knife. Wyatt pressed the trigger again. Nothing. Shit. Wyatt threw the gun, hitting Driscoll in the neck.
Will’s voice cut through the chaos, still calm. “Enough. Take her.” He pointed his gun at Letty from the corner.
Driscoll, clutching his shoulder, staggered toward Letty’s position as Wyatt moved to intercept. His body protested. Blood made everything slick. He pushed anyway because the thought of Driscoll’s hands on Letty ignited something feral. He caught Driscoll by the collar and slammed him into a shelf.
Metal shrieked as Driscoll swung with his good arm, hitting Wyatt in the ribs, right where the knife had opened him. Wyatt saw stars.
Then Will stepped close enough to be heard clearly. “You’re bleeding too much.” Will chuckled. “You’ll get sloppy.”
Wyatt spat blood and smiled. “You’re talking too much.”
Will’s expression remained mild. “She always liked men who did the work. Men like you.” His eyes flicked toward Letty. “But she belongs with someone who understands her.”
Letty stepped out from cover as Wyatt’s heart dropped. “Letty, down…”
She didn’t. She moved with purpose: fast, direct. She snatched the fallen knife from the concrete in one clean motion.
Driscoll saw her and reached. “You…”
Letty drove the pommel into his throat. Wyatt held his breath. It wasn’t a wild swing; it was a precise strike.
Driscoll choked, staggering back, eyes bulging. He regained his footing, coughing.
Wyatt’s pulse surged with equal parts pride and terror.
“Don’t touch me,” she snapped, and when Driscoll tried to grab again, she slashed across his forearm. Not a fatal strike, but just enough to make him back off.
Driscoll cursed, ignored his bleeding arm, and lunged anyway. Letty pivoted, using the shelf as a barrier, then drove her knee hard into his thigh. He buckled as she shoved him back.
Wyatt moved to her, grabbing her wrist. “Behind me.”
“I’m fine,” she shot back, breathless.
“You won’t be if he gets lucky.”
Will’s voice sharpened. “This is becoming messy.”
Wyatt’s gaze flicked to Will. “Messy is what happens when you underestimate her.”
For the first time, Will looked irritated. He pulled something from his pocket and clicked it.
A loud metallic bang echoed as another door slammed shut somewhere behind them. Another bang made Wyatt’s stomach drop. That sound wasn’t an accident.
Letty’s eyes widened. “He’s locking us in.”
Will’s smile returned, smaller now. “You wanted your evidence, Letty. Congratulations.” His gaze dropped to Wyatt’s blood-soaked shirt.
“Shame you won’t be around to use it.” He turned to start walking away as Wyatt surged forward, but his body betrayed him.
His vision narrowed again, blood loss stealing focus.
Letty caught him by the arm. “Wyatt! Look at me.”
He forced his eyes on her. Her face was pale, but steady.
“You’re bleeding.”
“It’s just a scratch.”
She made a sound of pure disbelief. “You’re not allowed to die.”
He tried to smirk, but it came out as a grimace.
“Not negotiable.” Her voice shook with anger.
Wyatt’s breath hitched. His legs wanted to fold. He leaned into the nearest wall for a second while Letty tore open her fanny pack emergency kit like she’d been waiting for this moment her whole life.
She probably has. He grimaced.
She pressed gauze against his side as Wyatt sucked in a breath, teeth clenching.
“Easy,” she snapped. “Hold still.”
He almost laughed. Even now she sounded like command. Her hands were warm and firm. Wyatt’s vision pulsed at the edges. “You said you didn’t scare easy.”
“I don’t, but damn it, you’re pissing me off, and that’s worse than scaring me.”
Her words made him cringe.
A yell called out from outside. “Roper… status…” Cal’s voice.
His hand shook as Letty screamed. “Cal, he’s hit. We’re inside a room with a window near the ceiling. Doors are locked. Will is here somewhere with Driscoll who’s injured.”
A pause, then Cal’s voice went cold. “Hold the line. We’re coming.”
Letty’s eyes flicked to Wyatt. “Hold the line,” she repeated, softer.
Wyatt swallowed hard. Blood soaked through the gauze again.
Letty cursed under her breath, then leaned close, pressing her lips to his cheek. “Stay conscious.”
Wyatt moaned as her mouth brushed his again, and his body reacted instinctively. Hunger and pain tangled into something sharp.
“You stay with me,” she whispered, forehead against his.
The heavy smell of dirt on the concrete triggered a memory Wyatt had buried for years. The scent was moister, but it swirled in his nose as that July day at the Wyoming rodeo grounds.