11. Tripp
LeavingCasey in that ER bay, in pain, worrying, absolutely gutted me.
But I did it.
I had to.
I was going to track this asshole down; make him pay. I’d made her a promise, no one would hurt her again, and I was going to make sure he would never hurt anyone again.
“Tripp, wait!” I heard Gabe call for me, but I ignored him. I stopped next to my bike and climbed on. Pulling the key from my pocket, I inserted it into the ignition. “You heard me calling you, asshole. Wait a damn minute.”
He was scowling when he reached me. Funny enough, he wasn’t alone. Trace, Chipper, Charlie, and two others I didn’t know but recognized stood behind him. Their faces were determined.
“I have a motherfucker to find.”
“We know where he is, if you would just fucking wait a goddamned minute.”
It wasn’t like Gabe to curse so much. Oh, he could sling the words, but he usually chose not to. That alone told me just how upset by all of this he was.
I held up my hands. “Spit it out then.”
“Derek pulled Casey’s dash cam. Watching it, he noticed another camera. We got a warrant and pulled the pawn shop footage; it’s outside of where she was attacked.”
I waited. There had to be more to this.
“He got a tag number. He was able to track the vehicle Garcia was in through the cameras around town. We know where the car is; he may or may not be there, but it’s a start.”
“Let me see the video.”
He hesitated then nodded. “If it were Lori… I get it man.” He turned the tablet he held over. The video had no sound, but it showed her getting out of her truck. I watched as she walked up to the side wall, her gaze darting to the laundromat. Then a man intentionally ran into her.
I gritted my teeth as I watched. The next few minutes sent me into a rage that would rival the devil himself.
I handed the tablet back and started my bike. I’d seen enough. The image of her bloody and beaten would haunt me forever.
“Address, now. I go alone.”
“The fuck you do. You’re taking these boys with you. Some of the men suspected to be in this mess with him have warrants. We are going to get them all at one time.” Gabe was in my personal space now.
“Your deputies too?”
He shook his head. “Charlie is staying here with Phoenix to watch over Casey. I have two deputies that can be there in less than three minutes if you need them though.”
I nodded. No cops meant—well, it was a good thing.
“Bring him in alive, Tripp. That is my only order. I don’t care what you do before he gets here. I don’t want details or to know anything else. I’m trusting you to not go too far.”
“Don’t worry, Sheriff, we won’t let him,” Trace assured him, taking the paperwork with what I assumed was the address. “I know the area. We’ve got this.”
“Fine. Mount up, we ride,” I said, starting the bike. My hands tightened on the bars.
We were stopped at the end of the road, off to the side out of sight, using a map Derek had included of the area; Trace pointed out the house in question.
There was a diagram of the house’s layout, yard specs, everything you’d need to bust in unseen.
The house was average; a modern-day cookie-cutter home. Living room, kitchen, and dining room were all one open area. There were four bedrooms and two bathrooms upstairs; so many potential hiding places.
That was their worry though. My place was outside. That’s where that pansy ass would come, running away like he usually did.
“Tripp, I know you’re ready to knock some skulls, but the men in that house, they’re some bad motherfuckers. Keep your head in the game. I can’t take you back to Casey with holes in you or in a fucking body bag. You hear me?”
I dropped the kickstand, climbed off my bike, and removed the leather gloves I wore. One by one, I removed the rings that adorned my hands. I unclasped the watch and pulled off the leather bracelets. I didn’t have piercings to worry about so I grabbed a rubber band and pulled my hair back into a bun, to keep it out of my face.
“You do what you need to,” I said. “Garcia is mine. When I’m done with him, then and only then, do you get him.”
I looked up; each of the men wore a similar scowl. It wasn’t directed at me; it was for this situation. They’d all seen that video; they knew what he’d done to her.
“You carrying?” the big man behind Trace asked. I pulled my concealed carry from my back. Everything went into the saddle bag in front of me.
“You get a two-minute head start,” I stated, climbing back onto my bike. “Then I’m riding in.”
“He’s fucking crazy.”
“Nah, that’s a man ready to protect his girl.”
“No, that’s a father protecting his daughter.”
To be fair, I was all three. I kissed the cross that I wore around my neck, then pulled it off to put it over the handlebar.
When my mama gave it to me, she said it would help protect me. Did it? I didn’t know. I wore it to be close to her.
I was not an overly religious person; quite the opposite. But I was about to channel the devil, so I didn’t want to anger the gods of any kind today. I would put it back on when I felt things were okay again.
I watched and waited. The group of men made their way down the side of another house, his house their final target. They swept through the side yard, moving into position.
Casey’s attack replayed in my mind’s eye. I could see it like I was there. That bastard—he had bum rushed her right into a brick wall. He’d touched her. Hit her. He’d hurt her. Again. The son of a bitch had learned nothing from our last encounter.
The fight wasn’t so one-sided though. Casey had fought back. She’d even put him on his ass. Her only mistake had been not kicking him in the balls before she ran for the truck. That he’d have needed another minute to recover from, and she could maybe have gotten away from him.
When she was feeling better, and this incident was behind her, I would teach her more moves. She would be able to defend herself in the future.
Though, my mind was already made up; there would be no more solo cases. I was officially moving back to Texas, a place I’d not lived in since I’d graduated.
I’d be here for her—for our family.
If she had a case, I would somewhere close as backup. If I couldn’t be, then one of the others would be. I’d be damned if this kind of thing happened again. Call it overprotective, intrusive; whatever. It was just how this was going to work. If she needed me to do the same, I’d do it. I’d have backup with me at all times. I could compromise when it was possible.
The shouts of the men entering the house rang through the evening. My head jerked up, my focus on the house and the street.
The sun was getting ready to depart for the night. It gave me just enough time to take down the man running for his car. I got into position, revving the bike before I took off down the road.
He looked up, my engine catching his attention. His eyes widened when he saw who was rushing for him. Making a decision he’d live to regret, he took off running. I was right behind him. He darted across a yard; I followed, dodging a swing set and a grill. My bike never slowed.
He made a pivotal mistake. He thought jumping the long, half-collapsed fence into the next yard would stop me. I aimed for the waist high gate and barreled through. The chain links split with the force of the hit.
He turned to see where I was and tripped, slamming into the ground; he was up quickly, his legs carrying him across the yard. I revved the engine and when he was only a few feet from the road, I got closer, kicking my leg out.
His knee buckled from the kick; he collapsed. It left him on the ground, writhing in pain while I slowed to stop the bike. I took my time lowering the kickstand and climbing off.
The street lights were coming on now. I reached down, grabbing him by the scruff of his shirt.
“Remember me, motherfucker?”
“I see that cunt came running to you for help.”
There went my being nice. I punched him as hard as I could. His lip split; he laughed.
“You’re too old and soft for her, old man,” he said, spitting blood.
I said nothing. He didn’t deserve my words, just the consequences of his actions. My personal brand of Vigilante Justice.
Pulling him to his feet, his features hardened. He was sweating. Aw, how sweet. The pain was a mother for a knee injury like that.
I smiled, meeting his gaze.
I let him get a hit in. Okay, maybe two, before I punched him again. He slammed back into the ground with a grunt of pain.
“That the best you got, old man?” His head fell to the side, blood pooling in his mouth. He spit again.
“You should die today,” I said calmly, my voice even.
“Bitch got what she deserves!”
I reared back and kicked him in the gut. He wasn’t laughing now. Asshole. “Every time you call her a bitch, or even think about her, I’m breaking your family jewels, ribs. Maybe even your fucking toes. How’s that sound?”
He opened his mouth—I kicked him again before he could utter a word.
Now, he was curling into himself, like a fucking baby. With both hands, I snatched him up. I wanted nothing more than to bury his face in the stump across from where I stood. If I did though, I’d not stop until he was no longer human-looking.
“You think it’s okay to go after my girl and hurt her?”
He grunted as I put my full weight behind the next punch. Every time I thought I was done, a new image of her lying in that hospital bed would burn through my brain.
“You threatened my daughter, you mother. Fucking. Asshole.” I punched him after each word. I put all of my rage into the hits. They were for her lying in that ER bay. The pain of having her arm scrubbed, dealing with the fallout of being injured.
Her life has been so full of chaos; I just hoped I could help with putting it all back together.
“Let…me…go!” He panted out the barely audible words.
I smirked.
“Aw, what’s the matter? Can’t fight someone who can defend themself? You only prey on helpless women!”
He coughed, blood dripped down his chin.
“She’s not…good…in the…sack. I…tried?—”
With that my fist pounded into his face, over and over again. I knew he was saying any and everything he could to get under my skin. It was working—in my favor. He was fueling the rage.
Flip side, I was enjoying the fact that I got to beat the fuck out of him. I might have let it go just a little too far.
Someone pulled me off him. “Enough. You’re going to kill him.”
“You’re done. Gabe said ‘alive,’ not lifeless!” Trace walked up, looking down at him.
I knew that, I did. Alive just meant his heart was still beating. It was. I rubbed my head and took a seat on the curb and scrubbed my face.
“Let me see your hands.”
Trace didn’t really give me time to brace. He held my hand and poured liquid fire over it. There was blood covering my hands, arms, and most likely the majority of me was covered in blood. Mine and his. I wore it proudly.
Fucker got exactly what he deserved.
The pouring of liquid fire continued for a round two as my other hand was cleaned.
“Fuck! Is that fucking gasoline?”
“No, hold still.”
“We have everyone loaded into the back of the van.” I looked up to find the two men Trace brought in staring at me.
“What?” I ground out.
The bigger of the two shrugged. “I’m surprised you let him stay breathing.”
“Can’t say I would have.”
Trace turned to them. “Tank, you and Elroy go take those jokers in. Chip, you go get the information from that couple. Someone has a fence to fix. I’ll escort Rocky here to the hospital. He’s going to need to see the doctor this time.”
“I’m fine,” I groused.
I jerked my hand back as pain shot through it. He raised a brow as he probed the knuckles. “What the fuck, man?”
“You have broken knuckles. Deal with it.”
Fucking hell. There was going to be no way to hide this from Casey. I let my head fall forward.
“You think she’s going to be mad?” I asked.
“Probably. Or upset that it happened at all. She’ll blame herself more than likely.”
Trace wrapped my hand, making me wince. “That’ll keep that busted knuckle from moving.”
I stood, looking around.
“Can you ride?”
“Yep.”
“I’ll follow you.” I nodded and made my way to my bike. I was more than ready to check on my girl.