I made small talk with a couple of patrol cops that stopped by my table to ask about the shootout at the club. In particular they wanted to know how “Honor” was doing. Keelyn had a place in the hearts of many single and lonely guys in the city, so I told them she was doing okay. She had taken a bullet to the chest and another one had caught her in the shoulder and lodged in the bone. She was a mess and she had lost way too much blood and required surgery, but she was awake now and she was pissed off. According to Nassir, who was blowing up my phone demanding any information I had on Roark, she had quit and told him she was leaving the Point. Nassir seemed to think she was just blowing smoke, but I wasn’t so sure. Keelyn had been in the gutter since the beginning. I wouldn’t blame her if she was ready for some new scenery, and I saw the way Nassir had freaked out when he caught sight of her bleeding on the floor. She might have been able to stay out of his clutches so far, but eventually he would wear her down. That would mean she was going to be stuck here in this place, with him, forever. I recognized the way he looked at her. He wanted to possess her.
The waitress dropped the food in front of me just as I heard the roar of Bax’s Hemi ’Cuda coming from blocks away. That car was a beast. It was louder, faster, and meaner than mine. I totally had motor envy. My little brother was a magician when it came to old muscle cars. What he could do to them was art. The patrol cops nodded in appreciation and got shiny eyes of envy when I mentioned it was Bax’s ride making all that noise. It was ingrained in male DNA to get a little bit of a hard-on when a car sounded as powerful and badass as the Hemi did. The GTO was prime but I wouldn’t put it up against Bax’s ride because my ego couldn’t handle getting shown up.
I was spewing facts about horsepower and torque when one of the guys made a strange face and pointed out the window. My heart immediately stopped because the last time someone did that in this diner Race’s car was on fire in the parking lot. Another unforgettable calling card from Roark.
“What?”
“I dunno. A garbage truck just went flying up the street. It’s not trash day in this part of town and it looked like it was in a hurry.”
I didn’t hear the rest of the sentence. My ears were ringing as I scrambled out of the booth and pushed past both the uniformed cops who were standing by the entrance. I hit the door just as the sound of tires squealing and the screech of metal on metal drowned out every other sound and made my ears ring. Several of the other diner patrons had followed me out, but I was oblivious to everything but my brother’s car, which was crumpled in an unrecognizable heap under the heavy front end of a massive garbage truck.
I heard screaming and the sound of people calling for help, but I didn’t realize it was me until my hands hit the metal as I tried to pull the collapsed driver’s-side door open to get to Bax.
“Shane!” I was pulling and pulling but the metal wasn’t moving and neither was Bax. He was folded over, his shaved head resting on the twisted steering wheel. Blood was streaming all across his face and out of the ear that was turned my way. It didn’t look like he was breathing, and I was about to shove my fist through the still-intact window when a set of hands clasped around me and tried to pull me back. The skin on the palms of my hands ripped away and my own blood left gory tracks on the metal as I continued to scream Bax’s name, desperate for any kind of response, any sign of life or movement.
I turned around and without a second thought swung at the cop that was trying to pull me back. “That’s my brother in there!”
My little brother in a car that looked like a tuna can.
My little brother who was bleeding way too much and not moving.
My little brother who had survived every single shitty thing life had thrown at him and had finally found some good in his life.
My little brother who was finally recognizing that he had people that cared about him, so he needed to care about himself.
I would move the garbage truck with my bare hands if I had to.
“Detective, the first responders have the Jaws of Life. We’re gonna need to cut him out.”
I slammed my fist into the window and called Bax’s name again. He still didn’t move. I let myself be dragged backward as the firefighters surrounded the car. While I was trying to bend metal with my bare hands, paramedics and my fellow cops, as well as an entire fleet of firefighters, had arrived on the scene. I started barking orders, telling anyone that would listen to go look for whoever had been driving the truck. I knew Roark was behind it. I had no idea how he knew where Bax would be, or how he had gotten his hands on a massive battering ram like the trash truck, but I knew it was him. And I was going to annihilate him when I finally got my hands on him.
Metal groaned and screamed in protest as they worked to pull Bax free. I moved forward and kept getting pulled back. It felt like it had taken a lifetime even if only a few moments had gone by, when the car door suddenly popped open and Bax’s big body slumped out. He looked worse not surrounded by the protective shell of the ’Cuda. I could see one of his legs was really messed up. I could also see that his chest was indeed moving, but slowly and laboriously. I rubbed my hands over my face and tried not to lose it. I didn’t even care that I was smearing blood all over myself from my torn hands.
“I need to call his girlfriend.”
Dovie was going to freak out. Rightfully so. With all the dangerous and dirty stuff Bax messed around in, here it was a car accident that was going to have him fighting for his life. It was so unfair I was choking on it and couldn’t see around it. I fumed as the paramedics strapped him down and started rolling him toward the waiting ambulance. I had never seen my brother look so fragile or so helpless. That included when he was just a little kid and I had to explain to him that I was moving out, leaving him to fend for himself because there was no other way. He looked broken and it was making everything inside of me howl with the need to do something, to seek some kind of retribution. I never considered myself the vengeful type. I put too much stock in the law and justice for that, but right now all I wanted was revenge. I wanted to bury Roark in a casket of metal and pain just like he had done to Bax.
“His pulse is thready, and he’s losing a lot of blood. We’re taking him to City General. Time is a factor. They have a trauma unit already waiting for us.”
Time was a factor? No kidding. He wasn’t moving at all and there was no color to him other than the black of his star and the red that was covering his face and soaking into his T-shirt. He looked like a corpse.
“You want to ride with us, Detective?”
No. No I didn’t want to climb in the back of that ambulance and watch them fight to keep my brother alive, because if they failed I was going to go nuclear and that wouldn’t help anyone. My rage and my grief would only hurt the people who were trying to help, and I didn’t want that. I worked hard to keep the beast in the cage; letting him out now wouldn’t do me or anyone else any good. Reeve had woken that monster up and now putting him back to sleep was getting harder and harder to do.
“No. I need to call his girlfriend and I need to see if anyone has any info on where the driver of the garbage truck went. I’ll be right behind you.”
The paramedic looked at Bax as they loaded him into the transport vehicle and then back at me. I had seen that look a hundred times before. I had given family members and victims that look myself. He didn’t think Bax was going to make it and he didn’t want me to miss any of the last moments I might have with him.
“Just go.” I gritted out the words between my teeth and took a step back. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and took a deep breath before I dialed Dovie’s number. She answered in her usually cheery way and I literally heard her heart break when I told her what was going on. In typical Dovie fashion, she didn’t shriek or shout; she just started breathing heavily and asking me a million questions. I could hear her crying, so I told her I would meet her at the hospital and hung up and called Race. I told him to go get her. She needed to be ready for the worst and
there was no way I wanted her driving herself. Race handled the news in much the same way his sister did, but after I gave him the limited amount of information I did have, he assured me he would go get her and that he would see me at the hospital.
When I got off the phone one of the patrol guys that I had been talking to before the accident appeared at my side.
“The real driver stopped for gas a few blocks over. He went in for gas and came out and the truck was gone.”
“How in the fuck did he know where Bax was going to be?” I muttered it under my breath as the guys from my precinct started to set up to do their standard accident investigation.
One thing was clear. No one that had been involved in bringing Novak down was safe. Even the baddest of badasses like Shane Baxter could be blindsided, and no one was invincible. A son’s thirst for vengeance over the perceived wrongs that had befallen his father was a powerful motivator. Roark had hit Race and Nassir where it hurt both financially and emotionally, but Bax . . . Bax he wanted taken out. It was one brother trying to eliminate the other. We all bled the same and Roark was letting me know he wanted to paint the streets red with everyone he held responsible for his loss.
Chapter 9
Reeve
I HADN’T SEEN TITUS in days. I wanted to go to the hospital but Booker wouldn’t let me leave the condo, and part of me knew that even though I desperately wanted to be there for him, he didn’t need me there. Bax was in bad shape. He hadn’t woken up yet and he had been rushed in for emergency surgery on two separate occasions since they rolled him into the emergency room. He almost didn’t make it through the second one, and from what I heard no one was sure when he would wake up . . . or if he would. He also had a shattered ankle, a broken wrist, broken ribs on both sides, a dislocated shoulder, and a broken jaw. The ER doctors had scrambled to cut him open and operate on his punctured liver before he bled to death. So even when he did wake up he wasn’t out of the woods, but considering he got run over by a twenty-ton truck and was still breathing, everyone was counting it as a win.
Most of my information was filtered through Brysen’s little sister, who seemed to have taken up permanent residence in my living room since Race and Brysen were spending most of their free time at the hospital these days. It didn’t escape my notice that while the young and stunning blonde appeared to be working on her homework or playing around on the Internet, she was actually watching every move Booker made like a tiny and ferocious hawk. She definitely didn’t like the easy camaraderie that I had developed with the brooding and scarred man. Every time I made him chuckle or he reached out to touch me, she flinched and gave me a look like I had kicked her puppy. I wanted to tell her she was too young and too pretty to waste her heart on the kind of man Booker was, but I figured it wasn’t my place and lessons like those had to be learned the hard way. All the important ones did.
It was Friday night and I had sent yet another unanswered text to Titus asking him if he was okay and if he needed anything. I wasn’t surprised when silence was what greeted me but I was hurt. I still hadn’t figured out how to turn that off yet. I was making grilled cheese to feed Booker and Karsen since we were all apparently going to be stuck together for another night when I decided enough time had passed that I could ask the darkly handsome man for the favor I had been working up to since he had gotten saddled with keeping an eye on me. I glanced over at Karsen, who was watching some silly reality show on the flat screen and facing away from us. The last thing I needed was for her to overhear me and rat me out to Race. Not that the golden Adonis would stop me, but I didn’t need him to have something else over my head. He already had too many cards in this tricky game that was playing out between me and Conner.
“Can I ask you to do something for me, Noah?”
His dark eyebrows shot up and the scar that cut down the side of his face pulled tight, making him look menacing and frightening. Race had done well to make Booker his right-hand man. He could stop a person in their tracks with that look alone.
“You can ask.”
I sighed and turned around to flip the sandwiches. I kept my voice low because Karsen was far more observant than I think he realized. “I need a gun. Conner has shown us that he’s ready to make things bloody and I’m not sure how much longer Titus can keep going with this act we’re trying to put on. He’s barely holding it together as it is, and now with what happened to Bax”—I shook my head and looked at him over my shoulder—“I need to be able to protect myself.”
His gunmetal-colored eyes shifted between gray and blue as he considered me silently. The sides of his mouth pulled down in a frown as he leaned on the counter. “You know how to use a piece?”
I snorted and moved the pan off the heat. I tossed my long hair over my shoulder and turned around to meet his steady gaze. “I grew up in the Point. Titus can’t know about it and neither can Race.” I shrugged. “They wouldn’t be on board with you arming the enemy.”
He snorted and took a seat as I pulled out plates to shovel the sandwiches and a handful of chips onto.
“You might be their enemy, but you’ve never done me wrong and I get where you’re coming from. I bet the cop has a clearer idea of how powerful a motivator revenge can be after seeing his brother lie unmoving in that hospital bed for the last week. No man can know the trail of revenge and retaliation until he’s had to walk it himself.”
I bit my lip and set the plate down in front of him. “So can you help me out?” He was my safest option. I had to be ready for Conner, and if Booker told me no, I was going to have to risk hitting the streets to try to find a dealer on my own. That was the last resort but I would do what I had to in order to put an end to this.
“Why do you call me Noah? Everyone has always called me Booker, everyone except for you. It’s also weird and you call Bax Shane, which no one else does.”
He changed the subject so fast I blinked in a startled reaction as I called out, “Karsen, one of these sandwiches is for you if you want it.” The girl turned on the couch and I saw her chocolate-colored gaze skim over Booker as he bent toward me so we could keep the conversation quiet. She scowled and turned back to the TV. “Maybe later. I’m not really hungry right now.”
I sighed and looked back at the massive man across from me. “I call you Noah because you’ve been nice to me. You’ve kept me company, and even though you’re supposed to be protecting all of them from me, you’ve been protecting me from them as well. You’re more than a thug. More than an ex-con, and I see that. I have to see that because I’m more than they think I am too. So you’re more than just Booker to me and to her.” I pointed over his broad shoulder to where the teenager was obviously sulking and doing it far more elegantly and glamorously than I would ever be able to. “You do know that girl is in the throes of a life-altering crush on you, right? Her heart is in her eyes when she looks at you.”
He glanced over his shoulder and then looked back at me with a lifted eyebrow. The way he did it with that scar made him look like a villain out of a comic book. He snorted and picked up his sandwich and took a hefty bite out of it. “She’s just a baby. Her heart isn’t grown up enough to know anything yet.”
I gave a sharp laugh and turned to the fridge to take out a soda. “My sister fell in love with a man around that age. She loved him so much it killed her. Karsen might be young but those feelings feel ancient and very grown up. You need to be careful with that.”
He grunted. “I’ve told Race to put a chain on it. I’ve told him she’s going to get in trouble looking at men that way. She’s too pretty and too soft to have that in her if she’s going to be part of the Point. She might as well learn that now.”
I reached out, snagged a chip off of his plate, and took a swig of my drink. “She’s not looking at men that way, Killer. She’s looking at you that way. The same way Brysen looks at Race and the same way Dovie looks at Shane.”
He grinned at me and it changed his whole face. Booker was a good-looking man once you got
past all the intimidation and the shock of that imperfection that covered half his face. When he smiled, when his chilly eyes warmed up, it turned him into a heartbreaker, no doubt about it.
“The way you look at the cop.”
I lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “I know how it feels when the person you’re looking at doesn’t look back, so that’s why I’m telling you to be mindful. She’s a sweet kid and we both know life will kick her around enough without you adding to it. Besides, I don’t want to be murdered in my sleep, and she looks like she’s on the verge of taking desperate action.”
He laughed again and polished off his sandwich. It was the sound of his rough chuckle that finally brought the teenager over. Her dark eyes were narrowed as she put herself on the stool next to Booker and shifted her gaze between the two of us. She really was a delicate beauty. She looked like merely stepping foot on the streets of the Point would dirty her all up.