Buck smiled at the woman cuddled up to him just before she devoured his mouth with her own. The long golden tresses tickled his chest and he chuckled softly before pulling her closer. She reached behind her and pulled a ripe, sweet strawberry from the tray and placed it against his lips...
"Damn!" he spat when the sound of the phone ringing beside his head woke him and he silently cursed the fates that had woken him from the sexy dream he'd been having. Snatching up the receiver, Buck snapped. "This better be good!"
"Mr. Wilmington?"
"Yes, this is Buck Wilmington. Who's this?"
"This is Tammy Coulter and I'm a nurse at Saint Vincents. You're listed as JD Dunne's next of kin..."
"Yes," Wilmington said sitting up and looking at the clock beside his bed. The kid was supposed to be going to see Chris at the ranch, but the chill down his spine warned him that something had happened. He suddenly realized that he'd missed whatever she'd been telling him. "I'm sorry, I didn't get that. What's wrong with JD?"
"I'm afraid I can't really discuss that over the phone, but could you come..."
"I'm on my way!" the rogue said and hung up the phone. He grabbed his jeans and a blue T-shirt from the top drawer of his dresser and quickly pulled them on. Whatever had happened to his roommate had to be serious if he couldn't call Buck himself. Not bothering to comb his hair, the worried man grabbed his sneakers and raced out the door, instinctively checking to make sure it was locked behind him. He raced past the elevator and down the stairs, taking two at a time in his haste to find out what had happened to JD. Dunne. He reached the underground parking and pulled open the door. His hands were shaking when he made it to his Mustang and he took a deep breath in an effort to calm his nerves.
What the hell did you get yourself into now, JD? Wilmington thought, opening the door and sliding inside. He placed the key in the ignition and checked to make sure the ramp was clear before driving out of the garage and out into the main street. His mind continued to conjure up images and none of them eased his mind any as he drove slightly over the speed limit toward the hospital.
"JD, can you hear me?" Stacey Midland asked when the young man's eyes opened. He'd been brought in nearly an hour ago, severely beaten. She'd ordered x-rays and he would be going for a CAT scan of his head as soon as they were ready for him.
"Buck..."
"Buck's not here yet, but we've called him..."
"Need...Buck...need to te...tell him..."
"Sh, JD, you need to calm down," Midland warned as her patient became more and more aggravated.
"No," Dunne said, eyes misting as he fought to come off the bed.
"Doc, how is he?" Wilmington said, busting into the Trauma room where his friend was being examined.
"Buck..." Dunne cried.
"Easy, JD, I'm here," he assured the young Bostonian and placed a soothing hand on his left shoulder. JD's face was covered in livid bruises and there were several lacerations on his cheek and chin. Buck could also see dark discoloration on the young man's upper chest that disappeared below the white sheet that covered his lower body. "God what happened to you?"
"Need to tell him...Chris...did this...Chris...hurt...me...because..." Dunne gasped and his body shook with pain just before he passed out.
"Chris," Wilmington thought.
"Buck, you can't really think that!" Midland said.
"The hell I can't, Doc. Look at JD...you heard what he said...Chris hurt me...Jesus!"
"Dr. Midland, the orderly is here to bring him for his CAT scan," Tammy Coulter explained from the open door.
"All right, Buck, you need to wait outside..."
"Doc, is he going to be okay?"
"I won't know anything until we get the results of the scan, Buck. Why don't you call Josiah or Nathan and have them come down here?"
"I will," Wilmington said, slamming his fist onto the small table in frustration. He knew what this weekend was and he knew how hard it always was on Chris Larabee. He thought the blond had changed when he'd asked JD to come out to the ranch and help him with several chores he wanted done, but from what he could see, Chris hadn't changed and was probably in some drunken stupor, blissfully unaware of the damage he'd done to JD Dunne. In the five years since Sarah and Adam had been killed, Chris had spent that day drinking until he passed out and angry at the world. Buck had been surprised at the invite to JD, but now he understood Larabee's choice in the youngest member of the team. JD would be an easy mark. He moved out of the way as the stretcher was pushed from the room, silently cursing Chris Larabee and damning him for his inability to come to terms with the hellish anniversary.
Buck's own anger continued unabated as the stretcher was wheeled toward the elevator and he knew what he had to do. Praying the Bostonian was going to be all right, Wilmington raced through the door and out into the bright Saturday morning sunshine. A small voice nagged at him to call one of the others, but it was drowned out by a need to get to the ranch and knock some sense into Chris Larabee.
Nathan Jackson smiled at the woman seated across from him. Rain Goines was the most beautiful woman he'd ever met and the fact that she loved him still surprised the hell out of him. He pulled her close and leaned back against the arm of the sofa as she leaned against his chest and sighed contentedly. It was unusual for Rain to be off on a Saturday and their only plans were to relax at home and enjoy a couple of movies.
"What would you like to see first?" Jackson asked. "Hold that thought."
Rain smiled as the medic reached for the phone sitting on the table beside the leather sofa.
"Jackson."
"Nathan, it's Stacey Midland..."
"Hi, Doc, is something wrong?" Jackson asked, instantly on alert.
"Have you heard from Buck?"
"No, is he okay?"
"I think so, but JD's been hurt. Buck was here, but he left when they took JD for a CAT scan."
"How bad?" the medic asked, holding up his hand when Rain asked him a question.
"JD's suffering from a concussion several broken ribs and his left arm was broken at the elbow."
"I'm on the way," Jackson said.
"All right, Nathan."
"What's wrong?" Goines asked worriedly.
"JD's been hurt," Jackson said and hung up the phone.
"How?"
"I don't know all the details, but Buck was there. He's probably pacing the hallways...you know how he is about the kid?"
"Yes, I do. Come on, I'll drive you."
"Rain, I'm sorry about today..."
"Nonsense, Nathan, we can watch movies any time," the woman said and hugged her fiancé before turning off the TV. She knew how close the seven men were and could just imagine the scene at the hospital. Hoping to ease Jackson's tension she teased. "Come on before the hospital calls in the SWAT team."
"Don't even joke about that," Jackson returned as he grabbed the keys and headed out the door.
Chris poured the amber colored liquid into the glass and stared at his reflection in the mirror over the kitchen sink. His eyes were dark with emotional pain and he knew drinking was not the answer, but downed the drink anyway.
"Coward!" he spat at his image and filled the glass once more. He felt the raw pain that came with the memory of this anniversary. Five years of hell...five years of loneliness...five years of waking up each morning and wishing he'd died with them. He picked up the glass, placed it against his forehead and closed his eyes. Instantly his mind conjured up the two faces that kept him sane in spite of his own attempts to drive himself over the edge.
"God, Sarah..." he whispered and opened his eyes. He could hear her voice chiding him for what he did to himself every year on this day. He looked into the mirror once more and knew his wife would have hated to see him like this. He knew his son would not have recognized him had he been alive. The two people he loved more than anything had been stolen from him and it burned his soul when he thought about the reason for their deaths.
"Damn you, Ella Gaines! Damn you to hell you fucking bitch!" Chris cursed and again placed the glass to his lips.
That's not the answer, Chris.
The words were only in his mind, but he knew Sarah had spoken them to him when she was alive. She'd been his voice of reason, and still was when he needed her. Knowing she'd be disappointed in him if he drank himself into oblivion again, Chris threw the glass across the room, slamming his fist into the wall above the sink. Sarah's voice had gotten through to him and he knew his actions during the last few hours would have gotten her fiery Irish temper up.
"All right, Honey, I hear you," he whispered to the empty kitchen. He looked at the clock and remembered JD was coming out to help him with several chores. The kid had jumped at the invite and Chris realized the young man probably thought he could keep his boss from repeating some of the stupid things he'd done during the previous years on this date.
Taking a deep breath, Chris looked at his knuckles and realized he was bleeding. He grabbed the towel from the bar inside the cupboard door and pressed it against the wounds. He held it there for several minutes before removing it and throwing it into the sink. Wincing as he moved his fingers the blond hoped he hadn't broken anything and realized he needed to wrap it up before he went out to the barn. He grabbed the first aid kit from the utility closet and grabbed a roll of gauze. It was awkward, but Chris managed to wrap it around his knuckles and tie it off. Satisfied that his hand was not bleeding profusely, Chris headed out of the house.
He reached the barn and quickly opened the big door, smiling when he heard Pony moving around. He moved deeper into the dim interior and patted the animal's neck. "Sorry, Boy, I'm just lazy today. Guess you want outside while I get this place fixed up?"
Vin smiled as Nettie Wells joined him at the barn. He'd volunteered to do several repairs for her and the weather today was perfect for it. He knew what today was and would accompany her to the cemetery to place three roses on the graves. Sarah and Adam Larabee had been part of her family and she'd loved them dearly.
"Did you talk to Chris today?" Nettie asked.
"Not yet. Figured I'd go over there once I finish up here."
"Maybe this year he'll come with us," Nettie said softly.
"Best not bank on it, Miss Nettie. Chris tends ta like ta do this himself."
"I know, I just keep hoping he's able to get through a year without the memories tearing him apart," Nettie said.
"Chris just gotta come ta terms with it...just gonna take time."
"Time heals, but sometimes it seems to take forever. I miss them too," the elderly woman said.
"I know," Vin said and pulled her to him. He let her cry against his shoulder and knew this had to stop. Somehow he was going to get through to the stubborn blond and make him see he didn't have to go it alone.
The drive to the ranch had done nothing to ease the anger burning through him. The thought of finding Larabee passed out with a bottle of whiskey and blood on his knuckles seared his mind as he turned into the driveway. He cut the engine and sat for several minutes in an effort to get his breathing under control, but his mind kept giving him the image of JD Dunne, battered and bruised and lying in a hospital bed. He wanted to give his long time friend the benefit of the doubt, but the young man's words continued to play over and over like a silent mantra that drove him forward.
Need to tell him...Chris...did this...Chris...hurt...me...because...
Slamming his fists against the steering wheel, Buck climbed out striding purposefully toward the house. He shoved open the door and walked along the hallway calling the blond's name. "Chris! Where the fuck are you?"
There was no answer and Buck stopped in the kitchen doorway, his nose wrinkling as he caught the smell of whiskey. He pushed inside and stopped in front of the sink, cursing when he saw the bloody towel there and the open bottle of whiskey next to the sink. Any doubts he might have had disappeared as he saw the broken glass and the whiskey staining the wall.
"God damn you, Larabee, he's just a kid!" Wilmington spat; grabbing the whiskey bottle before moving through the kitchen and into the dining room. He looked toward the barn and saw the blond closing the door to the corral before leaning on the fence. Anger flared in the blue orbs as he spotted the makeshift bandage around Larabee's right hand. He opened the sliding glass doors and strode toward the man, anger written across his face as his hand fisted at his side.
Chris heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Wilmington hurrying toward him. The look on the other man's face told him of the anger he seldom saw in this man. "Something wrong, Buck?"
"You got some fucking nerve asking me that you bastard!"
"What the..."
"You fucking proud of yourself...whiskey make you feel good and strong, Chris!"
"I don't know..."
"You so drunk you're gonna deny what you did to him? He's a kid, Chris and you nearly fucking killed him! I hope that fucking hand is broken you miserable piece of shit!"
"Who? What the fuck..." Larabee didn't get a chance to finish as Wilmington threw the whiskey bottle at him and followed through with a right cross that sent the blond reeling into the fence. Unable to catch himself in time, Chris' head struck the post and his legs gave out. He dropped heavily to the ground and shook his head in an effort to clear it.
"Don't fucking come near him, Chris, cause I'll kill you myself!"
"B...Buck..."
"Go find another bottle and drown yourself in it, Larabee, 'cause that's it!" Wilmington said and turned his back on the man he'd called friend for most of his life. He didn't bother going through the house, but hurried around the corner, shaking his hand as pain erupted through his wrist. Buck knew he'd probably broken several fingers, but it felt good to deck the man...a small price to pay for an even smaller amount of satisfaction.
Josiah and Ezra hurried into the ER to find Nathan and Rain talking to Stacey Midland. She motioned for them to follow her into the waiting room and waited until they sat down.
"How is he, Doc?"
"He's going to be okay, but I can tell you he'll be sore for a while. I've admitted him for observation," Midland said.
"What happened to him?" Jackson said. He'd seen several members of the Billings Police department waiting at the front desk and knew they were waiting to speak with JD Dunne.
"I can't say for sure," Midland said and held up her hands when they began speaking as one. "All I know is he was found by the police on Old Pear Tree Road and that he'd taken quite a beating."
"He was supposed to help Chris at the ranch today," Sanchez explained.
"Can we see Mr. Dunne?" Standish asked.
"Not until he's settled in his room," Midland said. "The police are also waiting to talk to him."
"Did he say who beat him?" Rain asked.
"I...I'm not sure, but he said something about Chris hurting him. That's what I've been trying to tell you. Buck heard JD say some damning things before he passed out. That's when he left and he hasn't come back."
"Damn! If Buck thinks..." Sanchez left the sentence unfinished, but he knew the others understood what he was saying.
"I need to get back to my patients. Ask at the main desk for JD's room number," Midland told them.
"Thanks, Doc, we will," Jackson assured her.
"Nathan, did you get through to Chris or Vin?" Sanchez asked when the doctor left.
"Not yet. I think Vin's at Nettie's place," the medic explained.
"I shall attempt to contact Mr's Tanner and Larabee," Standish offered; showing his cell phone before moving toward the door.
"All right, let's go see if JD's up to talking," the ex-preacher said and led the way to the main desk.
Vin tried to ignore the ringing of his cell phone, but gave up when the caller seemed intent on reaching him. He flipped it open and placed it against his ear. "Yer quarter."
"Vin, it's Ezra."
"Hey, Ez, ya callin' ta offer ta help muck out the henhouse?"
"Such menial labor is beyond my simple capabilities," Standish answered before growing serious once more. "Vin, JD's been hurt."
"What? How?"
"It appears he's been beaten. Dr. Midland has admitted him, but she assures us he should be fine."
"How's Buck?"
"I'm afraid I can't answer that. He left when he received some disturbing news from JD."
"What?"
"JD seems to think Chris was the one who did this to him?"
"Damn...Chris wouldn't..."
"Are you so sure? This day has always left Mr. Larabee in a state of angered belligerence. I'm sure he is unaware of his actions when he's imbibing in the heavier alcoholic beverages..."
"No...I...Look, Ez, I'm gonna stop by Chris' place..."
"Very well, Vin, just be careful."
"I will," Tanner said and hung up. He hurried up to the house; glad he'd finished most of the chores and opened the door to find Nettie and Casey on the back patio.
"Vin, what's wrong?" Nettie asked.
"JD's been hurt..."
"Oh, God, how bad?" Casey asked.
"He's in the hospital, Casey, but Dr. Midland thinks he's going to be okay."
"I'm going..."
"Casey, I'll drive," Nettie said and saw her niece nod.
"I'm going to stop by Chris' place and I'll meet you there," the Texan advised.
"All right, Vin," Nettie said, hugging him before turning her complete attention to the young woman who was fighting to control her emotions.
Chris had no idea how long he was unconscious, but he shook his head and climbed to his hands and knees just as a shadow crossed his body. He turned his head as a boot connected with his right side and sent him back to the ground.
"Well, well, looks like revenge will be sweet after all. Never thought I'd catch you so drunk you passed out, but it sure makes this more fun."
"Mc...Henry," Larabee rasped and again tried to get to his hands and knees, but a second and third man grabbed his arms and pulled him to his feet.
"Glad you still remember me."
"Never for...get an asshole!" Larabee spat and tried to pull away from the two men holding his arms. His left arm was pulled back and up and he gasped as pain erupted along his arm from elbow to shoulder. He twisted and nearly got free, but McHenry drove his fist into his gut and left him gasping for air. "Bas...tard..."
McHenry grabbed a fistful of blond hair and made sure Larabee was looking at him. "I see you're walking again...wonder what it would take to put you in a wheelchair for life?"
"F...fuck you!" Chris snarled and brought his head forward, catching the unsuspecting man in the head. His victory was short lived as McHenry quickly recovered and stood in front of him once more. "I'm going to mess up that pretty face of yours and then I'm going to make you beg..."
"Never," Larabee vowed, but again the iron like fist rocked his body as McHenry repeatedly hit him. Chris tasted blood in his mouth as the big man struck his left cheek, followed quickly by a blow to his right cheek. His vision blurred, but he didn't pass out as he lifted his head and looked at his nemesis.
"You have guts, Larabee, I'll give you that, but that's not going to help you out of this one. Let him go!"
The arms instantly released him and Chris managed to stay on his feet for several seconds before his legs buckled. Chris knew he had to get to his feet before it was too late, but his legs refused to hold him as McHenry walked behind him. Chris tried to turn, but again two strong arms held him in place.
McHenry saw the rigid shoulders and smiled as he reached out and touched the blond's back. "Is this where Rollins stabbed you, Chris? Too bad he's not here now, but I'm sure he'd enjoy this as much as I do...if he was alive that is. Hold him steady, boys!"
Chris renewed his efforts to get free, but the constant beating had taken its toll on his body and the two men held him on his knees.
McHenry drew back his foot and smiled as he brought the pointed, steel toed boot forward with as much force as he could. He heard the blond gasp and knew he'd done some damage, but was not sure if it was enough. He moved to the front of his enemy and knelt down until they were nose to nose. "The kid was fun today, Chris, but not as much fun as this!"
Chris looked into the cold eyes and spit blood in the man's face as he tried to form the name. "J...JD..."
"Is that his name? Well, I'm going to leave you now, but I won't go far, Chris. Those men of yours are going to pay for what you did. I was going to kill you, but I think it'll be more fun watching you squirm and knowing you can't do a damn thing to help them. Let him go, Boys, I think he's learned his lesson. Isn't that right, Chris?"
"Fuck...fuck you!" Larabee said as they released him and he fell the rest of the way to the ground.
"Still think you're in charge, Chris? Well, I don't think you'll be in any shape to be in charge of anything or anyone," McHenry told him. The fact that Larabee was still awake amazed him and he knew the man would kill him if given the chance. The green eyes refused to close and the one time pirate knew this was a formidable enemy, one he should not turn his back on.
Chris knew this man was as evil as they came and he was glad they'd taken his pirating business down no matter what the cost to himself. That thought was the last he had as something connected with his back and it erupted in agony so intense that it took his breath away and sent him into a deeper darkness than he'd ever known.
"Bastard's out, Mr. McHenry."
"Too bad, I was enjoying myself. I guess this is the end of act two," McHenry said and turned away from the injured man.
"What do you want us to do with Larabee?"
"Leave him, I'm sure one of those idiots he employs will be out here before he bleeds to death," McHenry said and hurried toward his car. He felt better than he had in a long time and was ready to play a game of cat and mouse...or mice in this case and he was one ferocious cat.
Vin drove his jeep into Larabee's drive and parked it near the doorway. He frowned when he noticed the door to the house was slightly ajar and he cautiously moved toward it. Once there he shoved the door open and called out to his friend. "Chris, are you in here?"
Tanner moved deeper into the house and called several times, but there was no answer. He checked the bedroom and finally the kitchen, frowning when he saw the broken glass and the bloodied towel. "Chris!"
Still no answer and Vin felt a chill run down his spine when he moved into the dining room. The patio doors were open and he could hear Pony racing around the corral. He quickly moved past the table and out onto the deck. Glancing toward the corral, Vin spotted a dark shape outlined against the thick grass and shuddered as he raced down the steps and across the back yard. He sank to his knees beside the bloodied form and reached out to touch his neck, jerking his hand back when he realized the blond had to be dead. His face was covered in blood and there didn't seem to be any sign of life, but Vin finally forced himself to act. His fingers finally touched against Larabee's throat and he held his breath as he waited for a sign that the blond was still alive. Vin felt his own heart stop when there seemed to be no life, but a sudden soft flutter told him all he needed to know. Reaching into his pant's pocket he dialed the three numbers that would get help out to him.
"911...fire, ambulance or police?"
"Ambulance and police!" the Texan said and listened while the female operator told him she was dispatching both. He quickly gave her the address and then began telling her about Larabee's condition. His throat was dry as he tried to give her the details without touching the blond.
"Has the patient been conscious?"
"Not since I found him...he's pretty beat up and it looks like he's taken some blows ta the head." Tanner explained. He kept his hand against the blond's chest, his own breathing becoming attuned with that of the injured man. He continued to update the 911 operator on the patient's condition, but there was nothing more he could do until real help arrived. Because of the distance and the seriousness of the injuries he'd described Medivac had been dispensed instead of a regular ambulance. "Jesus, Chris, who did this ta ya?"
"Did you say something?" the operator asked.
"No...I think he's waking up," the Texan said as a soft groan escaped from the injured man.
"Try not to let him move."
"Chris, it's okay, help's on the way," Tanner spoke softly to his friend as Larabee's eyes opened as far as they could, impaired by the swelling around both eyes.
"V...Vin...where..."
"I'm right here, Cowboy," Tanner said and then spoke into the cell phone. "Chris is awake."
"Is he lucid?"
"He knows who I am," the Texan said.
"Vin...Buck...did..."
"Buck what?"
"B...Buck..." Larabee whispered and tried to form his thoughts into cohesive sentences. "B...Buck..."
"It's okay, Chris, Buck's okay. You just lie still," Tanner said and gently squeezed the blond's shoulder.
Chris listened to the Texan's voice as if it was a soothing balm on his soul. His mind kept going over the confrontation with Buck Wilmington and there was something he needed to know; yet his mind could not quite grasp it. An image formed and he winced as Wilmington's fist connected with his face.
"Buck...why...hit me?" Larabee asked just before losing consciousness again.
"Buck," Tanner whispered as a knot twisted in his gut. What did Buck have to do with Chris' injuries?
"Sir, is the patient still conscious?"
"No, Ma'am, and he's breathin's kind of funny," the Texan explained. While Larabee had been awake he'd been checking for obvious injuries, but did not want to move him in case of injuries to his neck and spine.
"Medivac should be there soon..."
"I think I hear them now," Tanner said and looked south as the sound of a chopper reached his ears. He waited until it was close enough for him to read the words and spoke to the operator. "They're here, ma'am, thanks for yer help."
"You're welcome."
Tanner hung up the phone and stood up, waving his arms in the air in an effort to get the pilot's attention. Larabee's back yard was plenty big for the chopper and he breathed a sigh of relief when it landed a safe distance from his position. He knelt beside his injured friend and checked the pulse at his neck once more as the paramedics raced toward him carrying the equipment they would need on a stokes. Vin recognized one of them immediately and moved out of the way.
"How long's he been like this, Vin?" Frank Parker asked as he knelt beside the injured man and his partner moved to the opposite side.
"I found him about fifteen...maybe twenty minutes ago," Tanner explained as Parker's partner began hooking up monitors to the blond.
"Any idea what happened to him?" Jamie Morrison asked.
"Not too sure, but it looks like he's been beat up," the Texan said.
"Has he been conscious?" the senior paramedic asked.
"For a few minutes...seemed to know who I was, but he was disoriented too," Tanner said, frowning when he remembered Larabee's statement about Wilmington hitting him.
"Jamie, we need to get a C-collar on him before we move him," Parker said.
"On it," Morrison answered and reached for the equipment he'd need. "Any allergies?"
"No," Tanner answered. He watched as they placed the C-Collar on the blond and then helped log-roll him onto a backboard once they'd taken great pains to make sure there was nothing else they could do. They started an IV and moved Larabee into the stokes just as the blond came to once more.
"V...Vin..."
"I'm right here, Chris," Tanner said.
"T...tell JD...sorry...didn't mean..."
"It's okay, Chris, JD's gonna be just fine."
"B...Buck's mad...thinks I h...hurt..."
"Chris, we need to get you to the hospital," Parker stated as they lifted the Stokes and raced toward the waiting chopper.
"V...Vin...come..."
"I'll be there, Chris..."
"No...no...come now...need..." Larabee tried, groaning as his lower back erupted in fiery tendrils of pain that left him breathless.
"Frank?" Tanner asked when it appeared the blond was not going to calm down.
"All right, come on!"
"I'm comin', Chris," Tanner said and saw the relief on the blond's face as they moved him into the chopper and strapped him in.
"JD, come on, Son, open your eyes," Sanchez softly ordered. The young man seemed to be on the verge of waking up and he knew how disoriented he would be. Nettie and Casey were talking to the nurses at the desk, while Nathan and Rain had gone to get coffee, leaving him and Ezra to watch over the injured Bostonian.
Dunne slowly opened his eyes, only to slam them shut once more when it felt like someone had stuck knives into them. "God...that hurts..."
"I'm sure it does, but it'll get easier, Son," the ex-preacher explained.
"I...if y...you say s...so," Dunne said, unconvinced by the older man's words.
"Mr. Dunne, perhaps you could shed some light on what happened to you," Standish suggested when the hazel eyes finally opened and remained that way.
"I...I don't," he closed his eyes and tried to concentrate, but groaned instead as his body reminded him he really didn't want to go there. A laughing face formed over him and disappeared only to flicker once more as the man who'd beaten him spoke four words. End of act one.
"I think he's sleeping..."
"No...not sleeping. End of act one...that's what he said."
"Who said?" Sanchez asked.
"The man...I can't see his f...face, but I c...can hear him...told me it w...was the first warning...tell Chris!" Dunne snapped and tried to sit up in the bed, but two pairs of strong hands held him down. "No...let me...g...go!"
"And just where would you go, Son?" the ex-preacher asked.
"Ha...have to warn Chris...tell him this was a w...warning...Buck was here...told him...but..."
"What's wrong, JD?" Standish asked worriedly.
"I t...think I t...told Buck w...what happened, b...but he...what if he...t...thinks...What if Buck thinks..."
"If Buck thinks what?" Wilmington asked from the doorway. He'd left Larabee's ranch and driven straight back here, breaking several speed limits in the process.
"Where were you?" Sanchez asked.
"I went to see Chris. How're you feeling, JD?" Wilmington asked, relieved to see the younger man awake.
"I'm okay, Buck...sore...hurts some, but Chris..."
"Don't you worry about Chris, JD! That bastard's not going to hurt you..."
"What did you do, Buck?" Sanchez asked.
"Buck, please...you have to warn Chris..."
"Warn him about what?" Standish asked.
"The man who did this...said it was a warning to Chris...that this was the end of act o...one," the Bostonian said, groaning as his angry movement pulled on his damaged body.
"Wait...Chris did this...didn't he?" Wilmington asked, suddenly wary of his own temper.
"No...wasn't Chris...warning...said it was a w...warning," Dunne told them.
"Shit," the rogue cursed.
"Buck, what did you do?" the ex-preacher asked.
"Nothing I can't fix with a big humble apology," Wilmington assured the older man.
"Buck...is Chris all right?" Sanchez asked, glad that Dunne seemed to be sleeping once more.
"He's fine...just decked him...ah hell, Josiah, he'd been drinking and had his hand wrapped up and I..."
"Jumped to the wrong conclusion," Standish finished.
"Yeah...you could say that," Wilmington said and rubbed at his eyes before looking at the battered youth once more. "Will you stay with JD while I make a call?"
"Sure, but don't you think you should apologize in person?" Sanchez asked.
"I guess...damn," the ladies' man said and grabbed his jacket. "Look, tell JD I'll be back."
"We will," Standish said and watched the rogue walk unsteadily through the door. "I do believe Mr. Wilmington..."
"Is going to eat crow," Sanchez said with a grin.
"A very apt description," the gambler said, relieved that things were not as bad as they could have been.
The chopper touched down and was instantly set upon by the trauma team from Saint Vincents. They'd been in constant contact with the paramedics and knew from the patient's vital signs that he was in serious condition. Vin stood back out of the way as they unloaded the injured man and placed him on a gurney before rushing him into the hospital. The tracker hurried after them, but spotted a familiar figure exiting through the hospital's ER doors. He raced after him and caught the older man just before he crossed the parking lot.
"Buck, wait!"
"Vin?"
"Where are ya goin'?" Tanner asked, grabbing the older man's arm.
"I owe Chris an apology for something I did earlier so I'm headed out to his place," Wilmington answered, pulling his arm out of the Texan's grasp.
"Don't ya think it's kinda late fer that?"
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"
"Why'd ya do it, Buck?" Tanner asked angrily.
"Look, Vin, not that it's any of your business, but it was a mistake on my part. I thought he was the one that beat on JD, but he wasn't."
"Hit him...that what you call it?"
"Yes, I hit him...granted it was a sucker punch, but..."
"How many?"
"How many what? Jesus, Vin, I don't have time for this shit! We need to get the police involved..."
"They already are. I called them from Chris' place...probably should have stayed there and told them what happened, but Chris wanted me with him..."
"What the hell are you talking about, Vin? Why would Chris need you with him? Where is he?"
"He's here...came in by Medivac..."
"Medivac? What the fuck for?"
"Ya should know...yer the one who hit him..."
"I hit him once, Vin!"
"Did ya? How angry were ya?"
"What business is it of yours?" Wilmington asked, his own anger showing as he tried to make sense of what the Texan was saying.
"Became my business when ya beat the crap out of..."
"Whoa!" Wilmington said as he held his hands out in front of him, trying to make sense of what the Texan was saying. "Wait a minute, Vin...I hit Chris once...I was angry...hell I probably could've killed him, but I didn't, Vin. I hit him once and walked away. Chris was down, but he was okay...where is he?"
"They just took him into the trauma room. He's in bad shape," Tanner explained and turned back to the hospital.
"Vin," Wilmington said and grabbed the other man's arm. "I didn't...I mean I hit him...but I didn't..."
"I hope not, Buck, because if ya did I'd..." He left the threat unsaid, but knew the older man understood his meaning.
"Jesus," the ladies' man said and ran his fingers through his hair. "What a fucking mess. Look, JD told us the man who beat him said to tell Chris it was a warning."
"A warning...from who?" Tanner asked.
"He didn't say...JD said he told him to warn Chris that this was the end of act one," Wilmington answered. His gut was churning with the news that Chris had been medivaced to Saint Vincents and that he could very well have been the cause. He knew from Vin's voice that Larabee was in bad shape, but all he'd done was strike Larabee once. The blond had been dazed, but Chris was conscious when he'd left him. If he'd been beaten it could very well be because he had been unable to fight back.
"Buck, are you comin'?" the Texan asked when the ladies' man stopped and seemed to be in a world of his own.
"Jesus, Vin, I don't...I know I only hit him once. I was pissed at him..."
"Ain't hard ta be pissed at Chris...man's a mule headed sonofabitch."
"That may be, but I should have waited until I knew everything before I went out there. I saw the whiskey and the bandage on his hand and figured he was guilty..."
"Yer not the first one ta jump ta conclusions, Buck. Ain't hard ta make a mistake when everythin' points ta Chris bein' guilty...that's somethin' ya'll have ta talk ta him about," Tanner said and began walking toward the hospital once more.
Roy Simmons knew they'd need a complete series of x-rays and probably a CAT scan as well. The paramedic had given him the details of treatment and vital signs while the nurses cut away the victim's clothes. There seemed to be heavy bruising to the man's upper torso and he'd also been informed of multiple contusions on Larabee's back, chest and lower limbs. Someone had brutally beaten this man, but it was not up to him to find out who had done the beating, his job was to make sure the man recovered. From what he'd seen, recovery would be a slow, painful process.
"All right, people, let's see what we have. Sammi, put a call in to portable x-ray and tell them I want them here stat!"
"Yes, Dr. Simmons," Samantha Collins said and grabbed the phone off the wall.
"Might need an abdominal ultra sound too," Simmons said to no one in particular as he flashed a small light into the green eyes. Several nurses worked around the physician, taking blood and cleaning some of the wounds. The C-collar and backboard were still in place and would remain that way until x-rays were completed and they knew exactly what they were dealing with.
"His blood pressure is dropping!" Sandy announced and looked up at the overhead readings as the monitoring equipment continued to give readouts on the patient.
"Sonofabitch!" Simmons cursed gruffly and palpated the patient's abdomen. He knew they could be dealing with some serious internal injuries, but until the tests were completed he wouldn't know exactly what, if any, they were. "Get another line in him! Come on, Larabee, I heard you were a tough bastard! Don't go quitting on me now!"
Vin and Buck moved to the ER desk where Vin began filling out the papers for Chris. He'd had Chris's power of attorney since the duo had become friends and sometimes he thought Buck resented him for that. He couldn't really blame Wilmington for that, but they'd long since come to terms with their unique friendship.
"Vin, Josiah and the others are with JD...I should go tell them what's happening."
"Not much point until we find somethin' out, Buck," Tanner said.
"Damn it...who could be doin' this? First JD and now Chris...I'm so fuckin' stupid!"
"Ain't no point in getting' mad and layin' blame," the Texan said. "We won't know nothin' 'til Chris or JD are 'wake 'nough ta tell us what happened."
"Hell!" Wilmington cursed and began pacing up and down the front of the desk. He knew blaming himself for what happened to Chris would not get him anywhere, but that didn't stop him from doing just that. He'd gone to Larabee's ranch with every intention of telling the man just what he thought of him, but had lost it when he'd seen the bottle of whiskey and the bandaged knuckles. It didn't matter that he'd seen Larabee drunk often enough that it was a natural conclusion, because things had changed since the team had come together and Chris had faced the heavy loss of his wife and son.
Chris's return to consciousness was not a pleasant one as he coughed, groaned, tried to move and felt bitter bile rise in his throat. Voices intruded, but none he recognized and at first he refused to even acknowledge them, but one overly gruff one intruded enough to bring him back to full wakefulness and he stared up at the unshaven male face hovering above him.
"Who...what...w...where..." he mumbled.
"When, why, and how are the three you're missing. What's your name?"
"Chris...shit!"
"Well, I can't say I've ever heard that surname before, but it probably describes how you feel. Do you know where you are?"
"Hos...hospital?"
"That's two...not bad," the older man said. "Guess they didn't shake up that head as bad as I thought, although you do have one hell of a shiner. My name is Roy Simmons and some call me a doctor while others call me a mean sonofabitch, but right now I'll settle for doctor. Do you remember what happened to you?"
Larabee frowned as fleeting images danced before his eyes as he tried to latch on to something tangible. One face came into focus...angry as a fist struck out at him. "Buck...sh...shit!"
"Said that already," Simmons said.
"Get me out of this thing!" Larabee said, struggling to move.
"Not yet, Son, we need to run some more tests and get some pictures of that colorful body of yours. Now, there isn't much I can do to help with the pain until we get the results of those tests I told you about. Your best bet is to lie there and relax..."
"C...can't," Larabee said, frowning as another image flashed and he closed his eyes. "JD?"
"Easy, Son, don't be moving around so much!" Simmons ordered.
"JD...kid was hurt...find out..."
"Look, I'll find out about JD if you'll just relax and be still," Simmons ordered as the door opened.
"X-ray is here, Dr. Simmons."
"Thank you, Karen. All right, Chris, you get yourself still now and while they're taking the pictures I want I'll go ask about JD...does he have a last name?"
"Dunne...JD Dunne," Larabee answered and tried to relax as pain washed over him in ever increasing waves.
Simmons nodded and walked out of the room. This was his first week at Saint Vincents and he was slowly settling in. Something about Larabee got to him and he couldn't put a finger on what it was, but the man had a presence about him. He walked to the nurse's station where two men stood talking to the nurse.
"Excuse me, Mary..."
"Yes, Dr. Simmons. What can I do for you?"
"I need to find out about a patient...a JD Dunne..."
"JD?" Wilmington said and looked at the newcomer. The man was thin and at least six feet tall, with greying hair and at least a two day growth of beard.
"Yes," Simmons said. "You know him?"
"He's a friend of ours...brought in early this morning," the ladies' man explained. "Who are you?"
"My name is Roy Simmons and was inquiring about JD Dunne."
"Chris Larabee?" Tanner asked.
"That's correct. Who are you?"
"Vin Tanner, this is Buck Wilmington. How's Chris, Doc?"
"Can't really tell much right now, but he's taken quite a beating. X-ray is in there with him now and I've also scheduled him for a CAT scan and an abdominal ultra sound," Simmons explained. "He's worried about this man named JD. How is he doing?"
"He's going to be okay," Wilmington answered.
"Well, that's one piece of good news," the physician said.
"Doc, can we see Chris?" Tanner asked.
"Maybe for a few minutes once X-ray is done, but he's in a lot of pain right now so I'd rather just one and only for a minute just to let him know his friend is okay," Simmons told them.
"You go, Vin, I...don't think Chris'd want to see me right now," Wilmington said.
"Are you sure?" Tanner asked.
"Yeah...I'm gonna go let the others know what's happening," the gentle rogue answered and turned away.
"Buck?"
"What?"
"Chris'll understand."
"I know...still don't make it any easier," Wilmington said, tucking his hands in his pocket and walking away.
Vin watched the other man leave and knew Wilmington would shoulder this burden for a long time. Guilt was something they all knew about and there wasn't a man amongst them who hadn't felt that weight at some time or another. Their profession often put them in the line of fire, more often that not one or more of them was hurt, but there was always someone there to hold them up and that was a blessing in more ways than not.
"Mr. Tanner, it looks like X-ray is finished," Mary Stern explained when the Texan turned back to the desk.
"Thanks," the sharpshooter said and hurried toward the door she indicated. He pushed it open to find Simmons examining his patient and was grateful when the older man motioned for him to come inside. "How is he, Doc?"
"Well, I believe bull-headed would be an apt description..."
"Vin...JD? Is he..."
"JD's gonna be fine, Chris. Why don'tcha let the doc take care of ya?"
"Damn!" Larabee cried out when Simmons touched a particularly sore spot on his right side.
"Let that be a lesson to you!" Simmons groused and continued examining his patient before moving to check the x-rays and leaving the two friends alone.
"Where'd they g...get this sonofabitch?" Larabee asked.
"Ain't got a clue, but I'm bettin' he's been brought in ta keep ya in line," Tanner said with a grin. "What happened, Chris?"
"Happened?" Larabee frowned in an effort to remember how he'd wound up in the hospital. At times things seemed clear, but then several images flashed simultaneously and he couldn't grasp the elusive answers. He shook his head and closed his eyes as the image of Buck's fist coming straight at his face drowned out all the others.
"Chris, what's wrong?"
"Buck...Vin, Buck hit...Jesus!"
"I'm afraid you'll have to leave!" Simmons ordered.
"No! Vin, fi...find out why?"
Before Tanner could say anything else he had to move out of the way as the physician and several nurses moved in. He stood back against the wall, listening as Simmons explained to Larabee exactly what they needed to do and wished there was some way he could question him further on what had happened. Buck may have hit Larabee once, but someone else had caused the heavier damage.
"Mr. Tanner, could you please wait outside?" Sammi suggested.
"What's wrong?" the Texan asked, his stomach clenching as he read the pain on Larabee's face as the medical personnel continued their examination of his friend's body.
Buck, hands tucked deep in his pockets, shoulders slumped, and head down, walked slowly along the corridor toward JD's room. Since leaving Vin he'd tried to make sense of what had happened, and no matter how he looked at it, Chris was hurt because of him. If Larabee had been in top form instead of down because of his sucker punch then maybe, he wouldn't have been hurt, least not this badly.
Who the hell's behind this, Chris? Whoever the bastards are they'll find they bit off a lot more than they can chew. The bastards will pay. You have my word on that! he thought. No matter how he looked at it, Buck knew Larabee's injuries were due to his own short temper and the fact that he hadn't given the blond the chance to explain what happened with his hand.
"Buck, are you all right?"
"Oh, hi, Casey, I'm fine. How's JD?"
"He's sleeping right now. The doctor ordered pain medication for him and it's knocked him for a loop. Josiah and Nathan are in there with him," the young woman explained and touched his arm. Something about Buck's demeanor worried her and she waited for him to look directly at her before speaking. "Buck, what's got you so spooked?"
"Nothing..."
"Bull, you forget I've been around you and JD long enough to know when something's bothering you. Now what's wrong?"
"Chris is hurt, Casey...hurt pretty bad."
"Chris? But I thought...didn't you..."
"I was on my way out to Chris's place when Vin brought him in by Medivac...he's beat up and it's my fault, Casey...I hit him..."
"You beat Chris?"
"No...no, I hit him...just once, but I think maybe he was out when whoever it was attacked him. Vin's with him now," Wilmington explained and looked at the closed door. "God, what a fucking mess this is."
"What are you talking about, Buck?"
"I thought Chris did that to JD and I jumped to conclusions and I decked him...Jesus Christ!"
"Buck, you're not making sense," Casey said, watching the emotions running rampant in the man's eyes.
"None of this makes sense," the rogue said, running shaky fingers through his hair as he moved to the door. He pushed it open and entered to find Nathan seated next to the bed while Josiah stood near the window, both men were surprised to see him standing there.
"Buck, thought you were going out to Chris's place?" Jackson asked.
"I was," Wilmington answered and motioned for the two men to follow him out. "Casey, would you stay with JD?"
"Sure, Buck," the young woman readily agreed and watched the three men leave the room before turning her attention to the young man who slept fitfully.
"Buck, what's wrong?" Jackson asked. He watched as the ladies' man paced up and down the corridor. Every movement of his body spoke of an emotional turmoil that ran deep and Nathan could only imagine what had caused it. JD's injuries had impacted the man greatly, but the kid was going to be okay, something else was troubling their resident rogue and they needed to know what that was.
"I hit Chris..."
"You already told us that, Buck, but that can't be what's got you wound up tighter than a spring," Jackson complained.
"Jesus," Wilmington cursed and again his fingers ran through his hair before he faced the two men. "I hit Chris and left him at his place."
"Buck, you've hit Chris before...you two can get on each others nerves sometimes and..."
"I know that, Josiah. Jesus, I've sucker punched him a time or three, but this is different."
"Different! How?" Jackson asked.
"I left him there and someone...someone else must have...must have found him there and they beat the hell out of him, Nathan."
"What?" Sanchez asked.
"After I left Chris lying in the dirt someone finished the job I fucking started. He's down in the ER now and..."
"Did you see him? How bad?" the medic asked.
"Bad...I didn't see him, but Vin says he's in bad shape. They had to bring him in by Medivac!" Wilmington explained and renewed his vigorous pacing.
"Buck, you need to sit down!" Jackson ordered.
"I need to find out about Chris!"
"You won't do him any good..."
"Oh, God! What a fucking mess!" Wilmington said as the ex-preacher forced him into a chair. "First JD...and now Chris...who the fuck is doing this?"
"That's right, Buck. Who is doing this and what are we gonna do to find out?" Sanchez asked.
"We find out who did this to JD," the rogue offered.
"And that will undoubtedly lead us to whoever went after Chris," Jackson told him.
"JD did say his beating was a warning for Chris," the ex-preacher said, rubbing his chin as he thought about the two injured men. They needed to question both Chris and JD if they were to find out who was behind this.
"I'll head down to the ER and see if Vin knows anything else about Chris's condition. Josiah, will you stay here with Buck?"
"No problem, Nathan. Buck, we probably should make sure there's someone with JD at all times," Sanchez said.
"I'll be back as soon as I find out what's happening with Chris," Jackson assured them and headed for the elevators.
Vin struggled with the emotions running through his mind. His anger was still leveled at Buck, but he knew it was misplaced. Wilmington may have struck Chris, but he hadn't been the one to beat him within an inch of his life. Now Simmons and the nursing staff were getting Chris ready for surgery and all he could do was pace the corridors and pray.
"Vin?"
Tanner turned at the familiar voice and saw the worry in the soulful brown eyes of the medic and took a deep breath before speaking. "They're taking him to surgery, Nathan."
"Do you know what for?" Jackson asked.
"Simmons said there was internal damage, but it could be easily fixed. Silverman was called in and he's gonna do it," Tanner answered.
"Okay, so that's not what's got you looking like a kid who lost his new puppy. What else did Simmons have to say?"
"Chris's back...someone kicked him several times...hard," the Texan explained and looked up to see the gurney carrying Chris Larabee being pushed out of the trauma room and toward the elevators across from the main ER desk.
"Jesus," Nathan mumbled and turned to Tanner once more. "Buck said someone beat the hell out of him, but I didn't realize how badly."
"Gets worse, Nathan."
"Tell me!" Jackson softly ordered.
"Where they kicked him...it was pretty close to that knife wound..."
"Should I ask which one?" Jackson asked, not a hint of humor in his voice.
"That bastard Rollins," Tanner told him and saw the very real fear in Jackson's eyes. Rollins and Larabee had fought on the island they'd been stranded on and Chris had managed to kill his nemesis in spite of having the blade of a knife snapped off in his back.
"What does Simmons have to say?"
"Not much...said he was gonna check Chris's reflexes, but until they have the results of his tests and shit they can't tell much of anythin'," the sharpshooter explained.
"No point in fearing the worst, Vin. Could be nothing wrong," the medic told him.
"I know, but...you didn't see Chris, Nate...didn't see the damage," Tanner said and silently cursed Wilmington for jumping to conclusions and decking Larabee. He knew Buck was overwhelmed with guilt after finding out about Larabee and that he could have prevented it if he'd just stuck around and made sure Chris was all right. "If Buck..."
"Buck feels guilty enough about all this, Vin. He doesn't need you or me or anyone else blaming him for the way he reacted because we'd have probably done the same damn thing. Buck said Chris had been drinking and that his hand was wrapped up...that's pretty good evidence to support his actions. Have you heard anything from the police?"
"I called Bob and told him what happened. He wants to talk to Buck, JD, and Chris and said he'd be here as soon as he gets the report from the officers at the ranch," Tanner explained.
"All right...look I'm going to call Travis and let him know what's happened. Why don't you go on up to JD's room and update them on what's happening."
"I'm gonna go up ta the Surgical waiting rooms...."
"It'll be a while before Chris is out of surgery, Vin. If he doesn't go straight to ICU he'll be in recovery for at least an hour. There's time and I think we all need to find out exactly what's happened and who attacked Chris and JD."
Tanner simply nodded and tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he strode solemnly toward the elevator. He pressed the button and turned to see Jackson take out his cell phone and walk out of the hospital. By the time Vin made it to Dunne's room his anger at Wilmington had grown, and yet he knew it was misplaced. Buck wasn't at fault here, although he'd been an unwilling participant. He pushed open the door to JD's room to find Josiah, Buck and Ezra watching over the injured Bostonian.
"How's he doin'?" Tanner asked.
"Doc says he should be okay, but he'll be sore for a while," Sanchez answered. "What about Chris?"
"He's in surgery right now..."
"Sonofabitch!" Wilmington cursed and heard a soft moan from the bed. He stood up and placed a hand on the young man's shoulder as the eyelids fought to open. The pain was evident on the younger man's face and Buck wished there was something he could do to wipe it all away, but he was a realist and knew all he could do was be there for Dunne.
"Talk to him, Buck," Sanchez suggested and saw the dark head nod once. He knew Wilmington was filled with remorse and guilt, but right now he was the best one to deal with the youngest member of their team.
"Hey, JD, it's time you woke up," the worried rogue tried and watched as Dunne's eyelids fluttered and finally opened.
"B...Buck, are you o...okay?"
"Think it's me who should be asking that question, Kid," Wilmington stated.
"An...angry?" Dunne asked cautiously.
"No, JD, I'm not angry at you," the ladies' man assured the youngest member of the team.
"Not at me...angry...Chris," the Bostonian said, frowning as he tried to bring his jumbled thoughts into focus.
"No, I'm not angry with Chris either," Wilmington said and patted the younger man's shoulder gently.
"G...good," Dunne said and closed his eyes. He could feel the others watching him and tried to remember what he was supposed to tell them, but each time he though he had it, the pain in his skull intensified and he nearly blacked out. It suddenly dawned on him that two men were missing and although he'd seen Jackson, there'd been no sign of Chris Larabee. He opened his eyes and surveyed the room once more before trying to sit up.
"Best lay still, JD," Wilmington advised.
"N...no, c...can't. I need...need to see Chris. Where's Chris?" the Bostonian asked.
"He's busy right now, Son, but he'll..."
"No, Josiah! Don't you lie to me! W...where's Chris, damn it?"
"Chris is..."
"Gotta warn him, Vin!" Dunne said and grabbed for the Texan's arm. "Gotta tell him that they're coming after him!"
"Who's coming after Chris, JD?" Sanchez asked.
"Don't know...co...couldn't see their faces. Too fast...happened too fast. C...can't re...remember all of it...except warn Chris," Dunne said, his breathing erratic as images flashed before his eyes.
"Easy, Son," Wilmington tried, but again was faced with the younger man's stubbornness.
"Where's Chris?"
"JD..."
"Ezra, don't you tell me to take it e...easy! Damn it, I'm not a k...kid. Where's Chris?"
"Chris is in surgery, JD," Tanner supplied.
"Why?" Dunne frowned, eyes shooting wide as he realized the implications of the Texan's words. "Jesus! I...how bad is it?"
"We don't know yet, Son," Sanchez answered as the door opened and Jackson joined them.
"How are you feeling, JD?" Jackson asked, unaware of the conversation he'd interrupted.
"Just fucking great!" Dunne cursed.
"Easy, Kid, Nate's not the enemy here," Wilmington told him.
"Shit!"
"JD, if you don't calm down I'm going to get the nurse," the medic informed the younger man.
"Then tell me about Chris!" Dunne said stubbornly and sat forward, crying out when the move caused his body to erupt in pain.
"If you calm down we'll tell you what we know," Wilmington warned.
"I am calm! Look, Buck, it's my fault C...Chris is hurt..."
"No, Kid, it's not," the gentle rogue explained and turned away from the bed.
"What are you talking about, Buck?" Dunne asked and watched his friend hurry from the room. "Buck?"
"Let him be, JD," Sanchez said.
"What's wrong with Buck?" the Bostonian asked, eyes narrowing as snatches of conversation replayed in his mind. "Did he go after Chris?"
"He thought Chris did this to you, Son," Sanchez explained and saw the sorrow in the young man's eyes.
"Ah hell...what did he do to Chris?"
"He decked him," the Texan answered simply.
"He's decked Chris before...doesn't explained why Chris is in surgery...tell me!"
"Someone went out to Chris's place after Buck left, JD. They really did a job on him," Jackson explained and saw the despair on the younger man's face.
"My fault..."
"Would you please explain that reasoning for us, Mr. Dunne?" Standish asked.
"They told me I was supposed to warn Chris," the young easterner answered.
"Perhaps you could enlighten us as to how you were supposed to manage that feat while unconscious?"
"Ezra, I can hardly think straight as it is without you using them big words," Dunne said.
"He means how could you have warned Chris when you were out cold?" Jackson explained and sat on the edge of the bed. "JD, do you remember anything about whoever did this to you?"
"No," Dunne answered and closed his eyes as he tried to concentrate. "I...I saw a car pulled to the side of the road and there was a young woman...blond I think. Didn't really see her face because she never turned around and then someone hit me from behind. Next thing I knew I had something over my eyes and a man told me to tell Chris he'd get a lot worse than I g...got. G...guess he was telling the truth. How bad is Chris, Nathan?"
"We don't really know much, JD. Just know there were some internal injuries and the doctor wanted to fix them," Jackson assured him.
Orrin Travis wondered if there was a dark cloud hovering over his team as he walked along the corridor toward the surgical waiting rooms. Having stopped off at the information desk, he knew Larabee was still in surgery and that most of his men were waiting in JD Dunne's room for word on the blond. The update on JD was that the young man would recover, but it would be a few weeks before he was cleared to return to his job.
Taking a deep breath he pushed open the door, not at all surprised to see the trio of weary men seated in stony silence. Josiah moved to greet the former judge, but was motioned back to his seat as Travis looked at the other two. Vin and Ezra looked at him, but neither man said anything as their boss took a seat across from them.
"Okay, boys, would someone like to explain what's happening and why two of my team are patients in this hospital once more?" Travis asked.
"Not much to tell, Orrin," Sanchez explained. "All we know is that someone wanted to get a message to Chris and used JD as a battering ram to make sure he got it. Only problem is JD didn't get a chance to give Chris the message."
"Was JD able to give a description of his assailant?" the former judge asked.
"No, he didn't see his attackers," Standish answered.
"Okay, so how did we get from JD's beating being a warning to Chris ending up in surgery?" Travis asked.
"Might want ta ask Buck 'bout that one," Tanner spat.
"Why?" the older man asked.
"It seems our resident rogue jumped the gun when he saw JD," the gambler answered.
"How so?" Travis asked.
"JD was not very coherent and Mr. Wilmington was distraught at his condition and believed JD was saying Mr. Larabee was the culprit behind his atrocious beating," Standish explained.
"Buck didn't hear the full story and drove out to Chris's ranch. From what Buck says he walked in to find a broken glass and an open bottle of whiskey. Buck found Chris at the corral and there was a third damning piece of evidence that made Buck think Chris really was behind it," Sanchez explained.
"Which was?"
"According to Buck, Chris had his hand wrapped as if he'd been in a fight and his knuckles were damaged. Buck said he didn't bother asking why...he just..."
"Sucker punched him," Tanner interrupted the ex-preacher.
"Vin..."
"Josiah, don't try and defend Buck ta me. We all know Chris's got a temper, but has he ever hit one of us?" Tanner asked. "Has he?"
"Not to my recollection," Standish answered when the silence seemed to stretch between them.
"How hard did Buck hit Chris to put him in here?" Travis asked in disbelief.
"Buck says he hit him once and that Chris was conscious, but dazed when he left," Sanchez explained.
"So Chris is not here because of something Buck did?" the older man asked.
"Like hell he's not!" the Texan snapped.
"Vin, calm down!" Sanchez ordered sharply.
"Ya calm down, Preacher man! Ya boys are all fired up ta defend Buck and yet none of ya defended Chris when ya thought JD said Chris hit him! Ya let Buck go off half cocked and because ya didn't stop him Chris paid the fuckin' price!"
"Vin, Buck knows what he did was wrong..."
"Hold on," Travis held up his hands and stopped the volatile conversation before more feathers were ruffled and he'd need to explain why more of his team were in the ER. "How did Chris end up being hurt?"
"After Mr. Wilmington left Mr. Larabee's ranch, the real perpetrators of the crime against JD appeared," Standish explained.
"Have the police been here?" Travis asked. Robert Miller knew his team and they'd worked together on several occasions. Miller had a deep respect for Larabee and company and that respect was returned in kind.
"We haven't seen anyone yet, but Vin called them from Chris's ranch," Jackson explained.
"Well, make sure you're all available to answer any questions they might have," the former judge ordered. "Where is Buck?"
"He left just before you got here," Sanchez explained. "Probably went to get his head on straight."
"Mr. Wilmington was extremely upset," Standish said and could see the anger in the Texan's eyes. "Perhaps if he'd given JD a chance to explain none of this would have happened, but there is no way to change that now. I believe Buck is probably berating himself far worse than either of us could do."
"Shit!" Tanner cursed and knew the gambler was referring to his own actions. He knew Wilmington wasn't at fault, but if he'd waited and heard everything JD had to say, Larabee would not be undergoing surgery to save his life.
"Vin, I know you're angry, but right now that's not going to do any good. We need to figure out who's behind this and find the sonofabitch," Sanchez offered.
"Start by speaking to whoever Miller sends over," Travis ordered. "I also think it's a wise idea to put a man on JD's door and another on Chris's just in case the sonofabitch tries again."
The men nodded in agreement and grew silent while they watched over the sleeping Bostonian.
Buck walked slowly along the water's edge, stopping every now and then to skim a rock across the small pond. He'd walked out of the hospital and along several streets without realizing where he was headed. He stopped in the park near the high school and sat down for nearly an hour thinking about the events that lead up to this point in time.
"Buck, are you all right?"
Wilmington looked up to see the pretty Mexican woman who worked at the Bar and Grill on the south side. The team tended to meet there on Fridays for ribs and a few beers and he enjoyed flirting with Inez Recillos.
"Hi, Inez, yeah, I'm just fine."
"No, you're not," Recillos said, reading the emotions warring for dominance on the man's face. "What has happened?"
"Nothing much!" Wilmington said and skimmed another rock across the water. "Nearly got my best friend killed is all!"
"What? How?" the woman asked and forced Wilmington to sit down with her. "Who is hurt?"
"JD...and Chris. They're in the hospital."
"Are they okay?" Inez asked, worried about the blank staring eyes.
"JD's going to be fine...least that's what the doc says," Wilmington answered.
"That's good. What about Chris?"
"Don't know," the ladies' man answered and allowed her to pull him into an embrace. "I hit him."
"Hit who? Chris?"
"I thought he beat up on JD. Went out to the ranch...saw the whiskey, his hand was all wrapped up, so I hit him. JD..."
"Buck, you're not making sense," Recillos said and lifted his head from her shoulder. She could see the raw pain in the blue orbs and wished she could wipe away whatever was causing it. "Whose hand was wrapped up?"
"Chris'," Wilmington answered. "That's why I was so sure he'd beat up on JD...was so angry I struck him, but I didn't do that to him, Inez! God I didn't beat him so bad he'd need to be medivaced to the hospital. When I left Chris was sitting...sitting on the ground, but he wasn't near dying...now he's...he's in surgery."
"Buck, if you say Chris was fine when you left him then I believe you. I've seen you and Chris arguing before, but I don't think either of you could hurt the other. Where are the others?"
"At the hospital...waiting with JD, Chris was in surgery when I left...wouldn't want to see me anyway," the gentle rogue told her.
"I don't believe that, Buck," Inez said and held the man while he tried to bring his emotions under control. "They know you'd never do anything to hurt them..."
"Don't bet on it, Inez! I saw JD and totally lost it! Drove out to Chris's place with every intention of ramming the damn bottle down his throat! Saw the broken glass and Chris's hand and I decked him."
"How many times?"
"What?"
"How many times did you deck him?"
"Once...then I told him to stay away from JD. Called him a miserable piece of shit and told him to go crawl into another fucking bottle! Think I hit him then and walked away...thought I heard him call out."
"So how did he get hurt?"
"Don't know. Someone must have found him after I hit him and they didn't stop with just one punch. They beat him so badly that Vin said he's covered in bruises. Should never have hit him..."
"Not your fault, Buck..."
"Like hell it's not. I hit him..."
"You hit him once...you didn't put him in the hospital."
"Maybe not directly, but if I hadn't hit him in the first place he wouldn't be there now! He would've defended himself...would've had a chance..."
"Are you sure? You said Chris was awake when you left so maybe whoever it was caught him by surprise."
"I don't know, Inez..."
"Why don't you let me take you back to the hospital and see how Chris and JD are doing?"
"I don't think they need me there..."
"Don't bet on it, Buck. They may be angry with you, but once they've thought things through they'll realize it wasn't your fault. That what happened was simply bad timing. I'm sure Chris won't blame you."
"Will you come with me?"
"Of course," Inez said and helped the man to his feet. She led him toward her car and waited for him to get in and buckle up his seatbelt before driving toward Saint Vincents.
Roy Simmons made his way toward room 256 and knocked softly before entering. He recognized the Texan from the ER and nodded toward him when Tanner noticed him.
"Doc, how's Chris?" Tanner asked.
"Well right now he's in recovery. You gentlemen know Brandon Silverman?" Simmons asked.
"Yes," Jackson answered.
"He was able to repair the internal damage and Chris is listed in stable condition. He's also suggested we put him in here once he's out of recovery. Something about saving the hospital a damn big headache," Simmons said and saw the sheepish smile on several faces.
"That is probably truer than you know, Doctor..."
"Roy Simmons," the man answered and shook hands with the man standing next to Dunne's bed.
"I'm Orrin Travis and these gentlemen work for me. They do tend to spend a lot of time in here for one reason or another and it does make life easier for all involved if you keep them together."
"I'll take your word for that. Are they all as stubborn as Larabee?"
"Yes," Travis answered simply.
"You have my deepest sympathy," Simmons said with a slight grin. "Anyway I just thought I'd let you know that Larabee should be down here in a couple of hours. Good thing I checked his chart...his thick chart because otherwise I'd have thought his last name was quite unusual."
"What's unusual about Larabee?" Travis asked.
"Nothing, but when I asked him his name he said it was Chris...shit," Simmons chuckled at the strange looks he got. "It seems he has a friend named Buck who might or might not have the same last name. Strange, although it does leave them open for some very crude nicknames. It looks like your friend is waking up."
"Easy, Son," Sanchez warned when the youngest member of the team tried to sit up.
"Is Buck b...back?" the young man asked, frowning when he looked at the newcomer.
"Not yet, JD," Jackson answered.
"Damn...must be really pissed," Dunne said and looked around the room. Bits and pieces of memory played in his mind, but it seemed like they were just jumbled parts of a jigsaw. "Where's Chris?"
"I'll leave you gentlemen alone," Simmons said and hurried from the room. Tanner looked at the others and followed the man out.
"Who was that?" Dunne asked.
"Dr. Simmons," Travis answered. "How are you feeling, JD?"
"Like hell," the younger man answered, frowning when his memories began to take shape. "Shit, Orrin, need to warn Chris..."
"Easy, Son," Jackson said and eased the Bostonian back to the bed.
"No, see it was a warning," Dunne repeated and looked from one man to the other while speaking excitedly. "I gotta tell....gotta tell Chris. Chris is here...he's hurt...isn't he?"
"Yes, JD, he is," Sanchez explained and placed a calming hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Dr. Simmons just came to tell us he's in recovery and when they release him from there he'll be your room mate."
"How bad?" the youth asked.
"Not as bad as it could have been," Jackson answered hopefully.
`
"Doc, what about his back?" Tanner asked when he caught up to the older man at the nurses' desk.
"Tanner isn't it?"
"Yeah," the Texan answered solemnly. "How's his back?"
"There's a lot of swelling there, but whether there's anything more serious we won't know until the neurologist sees him tomorrow. We'll test him throughout the night, but I don't expect anything conclusive until sometime tomorrow," Simmons explained and pointed toward the elevator. "Isn't that your friend?"
Tanner turned and nodded as Buck and Inez joined them. Wilmington looked like death warmed over and Vin felt guilty for what he'd said to the others. The rogue would do anything for any of them, but when his anger outweighed everything else, he lashed out.
"Vin, Buck told me Chris and JD were hurt. How are they?"
"Well, Miss..."
"Inez Recillos," the woman answered the physician's unspoken question.
"Miss Recillos, Larabee came through surgery without complications, but as I was telling this young man we won't know about his back until we run some tests and that won't be until the neurologist sees him. Now your friend caused me to lose some sleep and I'm going to make up for that now. The nurses will contact me should there be any problems, but hopefully there won't be any."
"Thanks, Doc," Tanner said and watched the gruff man walk away. "You okay, Buck?"
"No," Wilmington answered softly and looked toward the closed door of Dunne's room. "How's JD?"
"He was just waking up," Tanner answered and spotted Nettie and Casey Wells coming toward them with several packages from the deli. The two women had left earlier once they knew JD would be all right, but Vin knew they wouldn't be gone long.
"Any word on Chris?" Nettie asked hopefully when the Texan reached for the tray of coffees she held.
"He's in recovery," the sharpshooter answered. "Dr. Simmons just left. He says they'll be bringing Chris down here as soon as he's awake enough."
"Thank God," the elder Wells said and pointed to the men coming toward them. "Hello, Captain, Miller."
"Mrs. Wells, it's good to see you again, just wish it was under different circumstances," Miller said.
"So do we all," Nettie assured him. "Casey, why don't we go stay with JD and let the others speak with Captain Miller?"
"I'll need to get a statement from JD," the policeman told her.
"I doubt if he's awake long enough to give much of a statement tonight," Casey told him.
"Maybe not, but I'd rather check myself. Buck, you and Vin might as well give Jenny your statement. Mark and Greg are going to stay on the door until we know what's happening and who's doing this," Miller explained. He waited for the two women to enter the room and Sanchez, Jackson, and Standish joined them. "Why don't we use the doctor's lounge?"
"Sounds good," Jackson said and led the group toward the room at the end of the hallway.
Chris could hear voices speaking to him, in soft soothing tones that irritated the hell out of him. He hated waking up before the alarm went off and these people were seriously pissing him off. He ached all over and his stomach churned, but he could not remember why he felt so lousy. The voices continued and he tried to turn away, but a hand gently tapped his cheek and he finally managed to peel one eyelid open. His first instinct was to grab the hand and twist the irritating limb until it snapped, but the face above him smiled and he knew this woman was not the cause of his misery.
"Welcome back, Chris. Do you remember where you are?" Geraldine Jeffries asked softly.
"Th...think so...hospital. W...what the hell hap...happened?"
"Well, I'm not sure what happened, but you've had surgery and the doctor has ordered something for pain if you need it, but I need to check a couple of things first."
"O...okay...sleepy," Larabee mumbled.
"Yes, well, that's the anesthetic and it will take some time for it to wear off. Don't go back to sleep just yet."
"Why not?" Larabee asked impatiently.
"Because I need you to squeeze my fingers..."
"What for?" the blond asked, instantly on alert...or as alert as he could be given the drugs in his system.
"Just standard procedure when a back..."
"Shit...bastard kicked m...me," Larabee spat and tried to move his legs. His eyes shone with fear and panic set in when his body would not obey his commands. Fear raced through him when he looked at the nurse. "I c...can't m...move my legs...God help me!"
"Chris, listen to me!"
"I can't f...feel my l...legs...Jesus...I can't..." His eyes closed as the medication she added to his IV took effect and he drifted back to sleep.
Geraldine adjusted the flow of the IV and made sure the nasal canulas were in place. Larabee had several broken ribs and it would be uncomfortable for him to breathe properly so Silverman had ordered oxygen. She'd run through the standard neurological tests and worried her bottom lip at the thought of this strong man being unable to feel his lower body.
"Gerri, how is he?" Caroline Williams asked.
"I'm not sure, Caroline, but he said he couldn't feel his legs," Geraldine answered and continued to monitor her patient until it was time to move him to his new room.
`
Nettie looked up from her crocheting when the door opened and a nurse she recognized stepped inside. Casey hovered over JD and Nettie had drawn the drapes in order to give the young couple some privacy.
"Chris?" Nettie asked.
"Yes, he's on his way down now," Susie Carter answered.
"How is he?"
"Still pretty groggy, but that's normal with the anesthetic," Susie said and pulled the blanket back off the bed. "Could I get you to move back a little, Mrs. Wells?"
"Of course," the older woman agreed when the stretcher was pushed through the doorway and placed alongside the bed. Nettie stood near the door, shocked by the vivid bruises that marred the man's face and upper chest.
"Chris, we're going to move you onto the bed..."
"I can do it," Larabee told them, smiling slightly when he spotted the woman near the door.
"All right, just scoot across," Susie ordered.
Chris eased his aching body from the stretcher onto the more comfortable bed. Closing his eyes as a wave of nauseating pain swept through his body. He felt the blankets pulled up to his waist and nasal canulas were also put in place. Finally able to breathe easier he opened his eyes and looked at Nettie Wells.
"Hi," Larabee whispered.
"Hi, yourself. How do you feel?"
"Sore..."
"Sore, Chris? I'd call that an understatement." Wells said.
"Chris?"
"JD," Larabee said and waited for Nettie to pull back the drape that separated the two beds. "You okay?"
"Sore," Dunne answered and the two men glared when the women laughed at the simple answer.
"Chris, I do believe you're rubbing off on JD," Casey said, chuckling softly when the young man tried to imitate a Larabee glare, but it didn't last long once he spotted his room mate.
"God, Chris, I'm sorry..."
"For what?" Larabee asked, trying to understand why Dunne looked as bad as he felt.
"My fault...I did that to you," Dunne said.
"Like hell y...you did," the blond said, trying to remember exactly why he was sharing a room with the youngest member of his team.
"Supposed to warn you..."
"JD, you were in no shape to warn anyone," Casey tried to ease the pain in her fiancé's eyes, but there was no way to undo the damage done to both men.
"JD, I don't remember what happened, but there's n...no way in h...hell you're to bla...blame for this..."
"Neither is Buck," Dunne said.
"Buck? What does he have to do with this?" Larabee asked, eyes closing in an effort to ward off the throbbing pain that pounded in his skull. He could hear the others talking, but there was something he needed to remember. Something to do with Buck Wilmington and Chris knew if he could remember what it was he might just remember everything else that seemed to have slipped through the cracks.
"Chris, are you all right?"
"I'm okay, Nettie...just can't seem to remember what happened," the blond snapped in frustration.
"Well, right now that might be for the best. Why don't you try and get some sleep?" the older woman said.
"Am kinda tired," Larabee said and smiled weakly when the elderly woman tucked the blankets around him. He closed his eyes and felt her hand brush across his brow before giving in to the effects of the drugs still in his system.
Buck took a deep breath and pushed through the door before he gave in to the urge to leave. Guilt continued to gnaw at his gut no matter how many times he was told it wasn't his fault. His breath caught in his throat when he caught the first glimpse of the second injured man. Larabee's face was turned toward him; the overhead light illuminating the pale, almost translucent features and again he was caught up with the pain of knowing this was partially his fault.
Nettie Wells sat next to Larabee's bed, her face filled with worry when she motioned him inside. Inez Recillos had left earlier to go to work and he missed having here there to offer her silent support. He'd promised to call her if he wanted to talk and somehow he knew he was going to do just that, better yet he would go down to the bar and grill where she worked.
The curtain between the two beds had been drawn and Buck could hear Casey and JD speaking in hushed tones. Nettie had come to the doctor's lounge and told them Larabee was in the room, but no one could leave until they'd made their statements. Buck had told the officers everything he'd done since speaking with JD and slugging Larabee before leaving him at the ranch.
"How is he?"
"He's okay, Buck. The anesthetic is still affecting him and probably will for the rest of today."
Wilmington walked over to the bed and winced when he saw the imprint on the left cheek. He knew it was impossible to tell if the mark was from his fist or whoever had attacked Larabee after he'd left. It didn't really matter because Buck knew he was to blame for every mark on the blond's body.
"God, I should have known he wouldn't hurt JD," the gentle rogue whispered.
"Buck?" Larabee's voice was weak, but unmistakable and Wilmington tried to force a smile to his face when the sea green eyes opened to half-mast.
"Hey, Pard, you look like crap," the rogue said.
"Not as bad as you...look like hell," Larabee told him and pressed the button to raise the head of his bed.
"Yeah, well, comes from you and the gray hairs you keep giving me..."
"Heard th...there's a new formula for men," the blond said, frowning, when the other man didn't rise to the bait. "Buck, what's wrong?"
"Chris..." the rogue forced through the constricting lump in his throat.
"Shit, Buck, you look like a lost puppy...what's wrong?"
"I...I, God I'm sorry, Chris. There's no excuse for being a hothead..."
"I've always been a hothead..."
"Not you...me," Wilmington explained and heard Nettie move away from the bed and allow them a modicum of privacy.
"What are you talking about, Buck?" Larabee asked.
"My fault you're in here. Thought you'd beat up JD and I saw red," the ladies' man spat and began to pace the small area.
"Me? Why would you think I beat up JD?" the blond asked.
"Because I didn't get the message out properly, Chris," Dunne said and waited for Casey to pull the curtain across.
"Message?" Larabee frowned, but could not quite grasp what they were telling him.
"The men who beat me up said it was a warning to you," the Bostonian answered.
"Warning about what?" the blond inquired.
"They just said it was a warning."
"Okay, so if it was a warning why does Buck think it's his fault?" Larabee asked.
"When I saw JD in the bed, he was a mess...not saying that's an excuse, Chris, 'cause it's not. There's no excuse for what I did..."
"Holy shit, Buck, what the hell did you do?" the Firm's leader asked impatiently, bewildered by the man's overwhelming tension.
"JD wasn't making sense, Chris," Wilmington explained and rubbed at tired eyes. "I thought he was saying you did that to him and I couldn't stand the idea of you hurting him..."
"I didn't..."
"I know that, Chris, God help me I know that and if I'd been thinking straight I wouldn't have hit you..."
"You hit me?" Larabee asked, eyes narrowing as his mind latched onto the fleeting image of an irate Buck Wilmington screaming at him to get lost in another bottle.
"I hit you, Chris...sucker punched you is more like it, but I didn't do that to you!" the rogue vowed. "I didn't beat you so bad you'd land in here."
"I know that," Larabee said grabbing the other man's arm when he tried to walk away. "Why did you think I'd be able to do that to JD?"
"Thought it was hard on you seeing him especially with today...yesterday being such a painful day...thought you'd been drinking...saw the whiskey and the broken glass and let my mind do the rest. Figured you were drunk and didn't know what you were doing."
"Was going to drink, Buck, but I stopped...heard Sarah's voice and couldn't do that to her memory. Threw the glass across the room and went out to the barn to work on the fence until JD got there," Larabee said and felt a tremor run through his long time friend's body. The door to the room opened and the rest of the team entered.
"Everything okay here?" Jackson asked.
"Think so. Buck, I don't blame you for what you did...but next time..."
"Won't be a next time, Chris," Wilmington said.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Larabee asked.
"Been thinking maybe it's time I moved on," the rogue told him and drew away from the bed.
"What?" Larabee spat and tried to come off the bed, gasping when pain erupted through his body. He grabbed at Wilmington's arm, but came up short. "Buck, get your fucking ass back here! Josiah, stop him!"
"Going somewhere, Brother?" Sanchez asked, stepping in front of Wilmington.
"Get the fuck out of my way, Preacher man!" Wilmington snapped, his insides in turmoil at the thought of what he'd caused his friend to suffer.
"Buck, get your ass in that chair and listen to Chris!" Dunne ordered watching Vin and Nathan fight to keep Larabee in the bed.
"Is there a problem in here?"
Nettie moved to intercept the nurse and motioned for Casey to follow her out of the room. These men were friends and they needed the time to figure out why two of them were injured and who was out to get them. She spotted Orrin Travis coming her way and closed the door behind her before the man could enter.
"Nettie, what's going on?" Travis asked.
"I'm not rightly sure, Orrin, but they need to figure it out. Nathan's in there and he'll make sure nothing happens to Chris and JD. Give them time," the elderly woman explained and looked at the nurse. "They'll be okay."
"Are you sure, Mrs. Wells? They are my patients and I'm responsible..."
"Susie, believe me when I tell you they'll be fine. Trust me I know these boys," Nettie told her.
"All right, but if I hear anything I'm going in there!"
"We all will," Travis assured her and leaned against the wall to wait for word from inside the hospital room.
"Buck!"
"Chris, lie back or so help me I'll tie you down!" Jackson warned when the blond tried to come off the bed once more.
"Don't let him go...God damnit, Buck, will you listen to me for a fucking min...minute?"
"He's not going anywhere!" Sanchez vowed and stood like a solemn giant in front of the door. He could see the raw emotion on Wilmington's face and knew it would take the whole team to ease the man's tormented soul.
"Chris," Wilmington managed when he turned back to the bed.
"Buck, sit down and listen!" Larabee ordered, growling when Jackson again pushed him back on the bed.
"Stay!" the medic ordered.
"Not a fucking dog..."
"Well yer actin' like a mangy cur!" Tanner scolded.
"Fuck you, Tanner," Larabee spat impatiently. "Buck, this ain't your fault!"
"Like hell it's not! I decked you, Chris...sucker punched you..."
"How many times?" the blond asked.
"What the hell does that mean?" Wilmington asked angrily.
"How many times did you hit me to put me in here?"
"I hit you one time, Chris...no way in hell I did all that!"
"Then quit being a fucking martyr and help us figure out what's going on. Somebody's decided it's open season on this fucking team and I don't aim to sit back and take it. You got that?"
"If I hadn't decked you..."
"If, Buck...that's a little word that causes big problems," Larabee said when his friend finally sat down on the edge of the bed. "Hindsight's 20/20 and most of us don't have that. We're human...you're human. This was something that happened because of..."
"Me, jumping to conclusions!" Wilmington snapped.
"Maybe, but it also happened because you've seen the way I reacted in the past. You saw me drink until I was sober and start all over again. You know me, Buck, sometimes I think you know me too well, but there's not a better man I'd ask at my side. That goes for the rest of you...we're going to find out who the hell is behind this and we're going to drag the bastard through the dirt until his ass is on fire! Are you boys with me on this?"
"Fucking A!" Standish said and smiled when the others stared at him. "Pardon my French!"
"Nothing to pardon, Ez...think ya spoke fer us all there," Tanner clapped the gambler on the back and looked at his friends. "So where do we start?"
"At the beginning," Larabee answered. "JD, what do you remember?"
"I was headed out to your place when I saw this car pulled over. A woman..."
"Always a man's downfall," Sanchez observed.
"A damsel in distress," Standish agreed.
"Yes...guess that's what I thought too," Dunne said. "I pulled over and offered to help, but that's when someone hit me from behind."
"Do you remember anything about the woman?" Sanchez asked.
"Not really...think she had blond hair, but that's about it 'cause she didn't turn around. Damn it...I'm so fucking stupid!"
"No, JD, you're human," Wilmington told him.
"JD, did she speak?" Jackson asked, watching the injured men closely.
"No...but someone did. A man...not sure, but his voice sounded familiar. Had a bit of an accent to it," Dunne answered.
"What did he say?" Tanner asked.
"Told me it was a warning for Chris and that this was the end of act one..."
"Act one," Larabee frowned when he remembered he had heard a similar statement and tried to latch on to the fleeting memory.
"Chris, what's wrong?" Tanner asked.
"Act two," Larabee said and felt a spearing pain in his back. "Shit."
"Easy, Chris, Nathan, ya'd best get someone in here!" Tanner warned when Larabee writhed on the bed.
"I got it, Nate," Sanchez said.
"Jesus," the blond groaned and closed his eyes in an effort to quell the mounting nausea.
"Hang on, Chris," Jackson said. "Where does it hurt?"
"My back...forgot...can't...can't feel my legs, Nathan!" Larabee groaned and opened his eyes to see the horror easily read on several faces.
"Don't panic, Chris," the medic said. "Could be swelling where the sonofabitch kicked you."
"Sonofabitch...can't...know who it was...just can't think straight," the injured man gasped when he tried to move, setting off fireworks of white hot pain in his lower back.
"You gentlemen need to move back! I've put in a call for Dr. Simmons," Susie explained and looked at her patient. "Chris, where does it hurt?"
"My b...back," the blond groaned and tried to turn onto his side. The twisting agony intensified and he tried to reach the area with his hand, but it was too much and he cried out before dropping back to the bed. His legs were useless and he looked down at them in hated disgust while he tried to control his breathing.
"Chris, can you tell me exactly where it's hurting?" the nurse asked.
"T...tell you exa...exactly...knife wound...old one...Jesus!"
Wilmington backed up to the door and watched in horror while his friend's face screwed up with the force of the spasming pain in his back. Buck knew just what knife wound Larabee was talking about and he swallowed the lump that threatened to cut off his air supply. A hand fell on his shoulder and he turned to see the gambler staring at him.
"Buck, are you all right?" Standish asked.
"No...no Ez, I'm not," the ladies man said and twisted away from his friend's touch. His gaze wavered for a moment on the man in the bed and he knew no matter what he would be there when Chris needed him, but right now he could not watch what was happening.
"Buck..."
"I need some air, Ez," Wilmington said and hurried from the room, bitter tears drying on his cheeks. He shoved the door open and brushed by Simmons when the man jumped back. He fought the urge to turn back, knowing in his heart that for now he could not face what he'd done.
Simmons hurried into the room and made his way to the bed. There was no doubt in his mind that his patient was in serious pain and he looked at the nurse and sharply ordered a shot of morphine before turning his attention to the injured blond.
"When did this start, Larabee?" Simmons asked gruffly.
"Few min...minutes ago," the blond answered and tried to sit up further in the bed. "C...can't feel 'em, Doc."
"Can't feel what?" the physician asked, feeling the others watching him closely.
"My legs...can't feel 'em or move 'em. God...back hur...hurts!" Larabee groaned and clung to the rail until his knuckles were white.
"Easy, Son, the nurse'll be back in a minute," Simmons assured him and put his patient through the standard neurological testing.
"Doc...what's do...doing this?" the injured man asked.
"Well could be several things, but until we run some more tests we won't know anything. I've already put in a call for Dr. Foreman. He should be here first thing in the morning. I'm thinking he'll order an MRI amongst other things so I might as well get that one out of the way," the older man explained and looked up when the nurse returned and injected the medication into his patient's IV. "Now the best thing for you to do is get some rest until MRI is ready for you."
"Not tired..."
"Bull...crap!" Simmons said gruffly. "You're still feeling the effects of the anesthetic and the morphine should kick in pretty damn quick. Once that happens you might as well say good night!"
"Doc..."
"Look, Larabee, who's the doctor here?"
"You are...worse bedside manner..."
"Wasn't hired for my bedside manner or my good looks so be quiet and rest. The rest of you might as well clear out 'cause he's not gonna be much company!" Simmons ordered.
"I'm stayin'," Tanner said softly and knew the others heard him when he settled down on the chair between the two beds.
"All right...you can stay for a spell. The rest of you must have something you need to be doing?" the physician stated and placed his hands on his hips.
"Vin, call if they need anything," Jackson said.
"I will, Nate," the Texan assured them.
"Josiah?"
"Right here, boss," Sanchez said.
"Where's Buck?" Larabee asked.
"Probably went to see if Inez is still around," the ex-preacher lied.
"Bull...find him!" the blond ordered.
"We will, Chris," Jackson vowed.
"JD, I'll be back tomorrow." Casey kissed the young man before turning and waiting for her aunt at the door.
"Is there anything you need me to bring you?" Nettie asked her Nephew in law.
"A ride home," Larabee whispered tiredly.
"Make that a ride home in about a week," Simmons ordered.
"You heard him, Chris," the Wells woman said. "Tell me something that's doable."
"There's a kit in the master bathroom and maybe a change of clothes," Larabee answered.
"The kit I'll get...the clothes can wait until the discharge papers are signed," Nettie said and kissed his forehead. "You get some rest...you too, JD."
"Yes, Ma'am," Dunne said, smiling in spite of the throbbing pain in his skull.
"All right, people, get out of here and let these two rest. They'll let you know when MRI is ready for you, Larabee." Simmons gruff manner was belied by the man's hand placed on Larabee's shoulder and his voice softened considerably. "We'll figure this out."
"Thanks, Doc," the blond said already feeling the effects of the medication. His eyes closed and he heard the others leave and opened his eyes to see the Texan watching him.
"Go ahead and sleep, Cowboy, I got yer back," Tanner said.
"Never doubted it for a minute," Larabee told him and gave in to the medication and exhaustion creeping through his body.
"Vin?"
"Yeah, JD?"
"Do you blame Buck for what happened to Chris?"
"I don't know...guess a little..."
"But if you blame Buck then you have to blame me too because I fucked up."
"You didn't fuck up, JD..."
"Yes, I did. All I had to do was get the message to Chris and instead I fucked it up and Buck's hot-headed behavior is my fault."
"No, it ain't..."
"Don't you dare say that, Vin, not if you're gonna keep blaming Buck 'cause he wouldn't have done what he did if it wasn't for what I said."
"You weren't thinking straight..."
"Neither was Buck. He thought Chris was drinking..."
"Ain't no excuse...Chris may have been drinking, but it don't mean he's gonna hit one of us. Buck went off thinking the worst 'bout Chris yet no one wanted ta defend Chris..."
"'Cept you?"
"'Cept me. The rest of 'em was all set to believe that Chris did that ta ya, JD, and that ain't right."
"No it's not, but you can't blame them for that, Vin. Chris don't blame Buck and if he don't, then we shouldn't either."
"Maybe...ya look like hell, Kid, go on and sleep...ain't gonna let nothin' happen ta ya."
"Thanks, Vin, just think about what I said...okay?"
"Okay," the Texan agreed and sighed heavily. Truth was his anger at Wilmington had dwindled now that he knew Larabee was going to be all right. 'Except for his legs,' Tanner thought and studied the unmoving limbs under the blanket before rubbing at tired eyes.
William McHenry sat in front of the television, but was only partially aware of what was being said. His thoughts were on the two men he'd put in the hospital and the damage he had planned for Larabee's team. Some said revenge was a dish best served cold, but for him it was a hot meal and he had the resources to turn up the heat even further.
McHenry looked at the two men who sat playing cards at the table and wished he knew how far he could trust them, but they were new to him and he had to trust his friend's judgement. His men were either dead or in prison and he had no way of getting them out. He thought back on the prison transfer that had ended with him escaping and the guards and driver dead. That had been less than a week ago and he'd been able to call in numerous favors and was now staying in a house just outside Billings. The place was a summer home of an acquaintance who was overseas for several months. He sat up straighter when a familiar picture appeared on the screen.
"Shut up...I want to hear this!" McHenry ordered the two men and reached for the remote.
"...Larabee and JD Dunne were both viciously attacked, but so far the police have very little to go on. The Two agents are under police protection in Saint Vincent's hospital tonight and are listed in fair condition..."
"Fair!" McHenry spat. He'd sent Greg Lewis and Carl Hutchinson to the hospital with orders to follow Buck Wilmington when he left and to report in when they completed the next phase of the operation. "This is just the beginning. They'll pay for interfering in my business! Has Lewis checked in yet?"
"No, Sir," Paul Granger answered. "You told him not to call in unless he..."
"I know what I told him!" the ex-pirate snapped and flicked off the TV. He strode to the well stocked bar and reached for a bottle of whiskey. Pouring a stiff belt into the glass he downed it and slammed the glass back on the bar. "Those bastards think they're so fucking smart. Well they're not and I'm going to make damn sure they regret ever having heard my name!"
Greg Lewis stayed back, but followed Wilmington at a safe interval. The dark haired agent had exited the hospital and headed directly toward a green Ford Mustang. McHenry's orders were simple...kill whoever was first to leave Saint Vincents...no matter what it took. Lewis nodded to Carl Hutchinson who stood near the main doors and the man hurried toward him. Hutchinson was nearly fifty, but his face still held the freckles and smoothness associated with a younger man.
"Looks like we got one," Hutchinson said when he opened the door and climbed inside.
"Don't go getting cocky, Carl. I've heard stories about these guys and they can tear you apart if they have to."
"You sound like you're afraid of them. Look at that sonofabitch!"
"I'm looking and don't let his appearance fool you. Wilmington is a former SEAL and it's rumoured he was also a mercenary and his specialty is explosives," Lewis explained.
"Yeah, well, he's gonna have an explosive experience tonight!" Hutchinson laughed, rubbing his hands before reaching for the device he'd tucked into the dash. It was a simple work of art that could easily take out their victim and anyone else who happened to be within twenty feet of the car.
Lewis watched their target when he reached for the handle of the door and knew this man was definitely a dangerous adversary. For that matter the whole damn team was a force to be reckoned with. If McHenry hadn't offered such an exorbitant amount of money, this would have been one job he'd gladly have refused.
"Did you hear me, Greg?"
"What?"
"He's leaving," Hutchinson answered and fastened his seatbelt when Lewis turned and followed the Mustang out of the parking lot. They followed the other vehicle along several streets until it pulled into a parking lot and stopped in a spot marked with a reserved sign.
"We'll wait until he's inside," Lewis explained.
"Sounds like a plan," his partner answered and settled back to wait for his chance.
Buck ran his fingers through his sweat soaked dark hair. Since leaving the hospital he'd made his way to The Firm's office building and was taking advantage of the twenty-four hour employee gym and the top of the line equipment there. His hands were taped and he'd spent the last twenty minutes taking out his anger and frustration on the heavy bag that hung from the ceiling. This late at night there was only one attendant and she was busy stacking the towels near the swimming pool. He knew her name and had spoken to her several times, but tonight small talk, for that matter any kind of talk was the furthest thing from his mind.
He looked up when he heard the tones that signaled the elevator had opened on this floor and was relieved when the security guard stepped off. The man was doing his rounds and Buck knew he would leave him alone. For that, the rogue was grateful and he returned his attention to the bag in front of him. Drawing back his right fist he drove it forward, repeating the gesture with the left until his fists flew fast and furious.
This was not where he'd planned to go after leaving the hospital, but it was where he found himself after walking along the dark streets of Billings. Here he could take out his frustrations on inanimate objects, but so far it had done very little to rid him of the self loathing anger that gnawed at his gut.
Buck looked at his knuckles and silently cursed as he relived the moment when he'd decked the man he'd called his best friend for more years than he cared to remember.
"God, Chris, I'm sorry," Wilmington whispered.
"Did you say something, Buck?"
"Huh, no, sorry, Sandra, I was just thinking out loud."
"Oh, done that a few times myself," Sandra McCollum told him, smiling when she saw the slight grin on the man's face. "If you'd like to talk..."
"Thanks, but right now I'm not much company and I'd rather be alone."
"I'll be at the desk if you change your mind," the woman said and watched the man's fists fly at the bag once more. Something must have happened to put such anger into this man and she wished there was more she could do. Unfortunately, Buck Wilmington looked far more dangerous than most of the people he brought to justice. For the next thirty minutes she watched him pound the hell out of the bag and wondered who he was really beating on.
Buck could feel her watching him and finally sagged against the bag as his mind suddenly realized how tired the rest of him was. Peeling off the tape he dropped it into the garbage and made his way toward the showers. Once inside he stripped out of the shorts and turned on the hot water. The spray hit him like sharp needles and he felt some of the tension leaving his body as the water washed away the sweat.
By the time he finished the shower, Buck knew what he had to do. There was no way of turning back the clock, but the team had the resources and the knowledge to find out who was behind the attacks on both JD and Chris. As of right now it was their priority to find the bastards and make damn sure they didn't get away with it.
Dressing quickly, Buck exited the showers and nodded to Sandra before hurrying toward the elevator, unaware that his cell phone had slipped from the pocket of his jeans. It was nearly two in the morning and he knew there'd be no point in going to the hospital, but he could go home and get some rest before starting fresh in the morning.
Lewis watched their target and signaled for his partner to get back inside. They'd placed the incendiary device and rigged it to explode when Wilmington closed the door. It would automatically trigger the two liquid explosives and cause a reaction that would end in the car exploding and turning both the car and the victim into more pieces than a jigsaw.
"Looks like it's time for them fireworks!" Hutchinson said with a grin when their target reached for his keys and unlocked the door.
"You sure you hooked it up properly?"
"Hell yeah...been working with explosive since I was knee high to a beer bottle and I haven't fucked up a job since I lost these three fingers." Hutchinson held up his right hand showing a thumb and index finger only. The others had been blown off when he'd miscalculated a homemade bomb at the age of thirteen. "Trust me...Wilmington's not going to show up for work on Monday unless it's in a doggie bag!"
"He damn well better be or McHenry will have your balls for lunch," Lewis explained. He sat forward and watched while the Firm's agent opened the door.
"Buck! Wait!"
Wilmington turned to see Sandra McCollum hurrying toward him holding something in her hand. He closed the door and walked toward her even as the hairs on the back of his neck prickled and he spotted the unfamiliar car parked across the street. A sound sparked softly behind him and he knew something was terribly wrong.
"Get down!" he shouted, but the warning came an instant too late as the relays clicked, the liquid mixed and the Mustang exploded behind him. Buck felt the whoosh of searing heat even as his body was propelled through the air. He had a fraction of a second to register that the young woman from the gym was thrown backwards and landed in a crumpled heap several feet from where his own body came to rest. A fireball, hotter than any furnace rose high in the air at the same time Wilmington's mind registered pain spreading throughout his body. He shifted and turned to look at Sandra McCollum and cringed at the sightless eyes staring back at him.
Buck wondered why everything around him was flickering as if the images were playing on a broken screen. He gasped just before darkness pushed back the hot light and didn't see the car speed away from the office building.
"Shit!" Lewis spat and squealed the tires when he sped away from the scene.
"Greg, he's dead right? No way he could've lived through that blast!" Hutchinson said.
"How the hell do I know? Damn that fucking bitch!" The driver snarled, checking his rearview mirror as flames continued to eat at the vehicle.
"Shouldn't we go back and make sure he's dead?"
"Not fucking likely! That fireball probably set off alarms and the place will be swarming with cops before we even stop the car. No, Wilmington is dead...no one could have survived that!" Lewis spoke sharply and tried to convince himself of the truth of his words. The problem was his heart had skipped several beats when the woman had rushed out of the building and the intended target had slammed the door setting off the chain reaction that should have instantly incinerated him.
"Yeah...no one could have survived that...would've wiped out a cat's nine lives let alone one man's life," Hutchinson agreed when he saw the flashing lights of emergency vehicles speeding toward them.
Something had woken Chris Larabee, but for the life of him he couldn't grasp what it was. He shifted on the bed and felt every mark on his upper body, but there was still no movement from his legs. He looked toward the second bed and knew Dunne was sleeping under the effects of the heavy duty pain meds he'd received just before the guys had gone home. The firm's leader knew there was at least one cop on the door and, in spite of the morphine; it hadn't taken long to put it all together again.
Larabee pressed the button to raise the head of the bed, biting back a cry when the movement reawakened the pain in his back.
"Are you okay, Chris?" Dunne asked.
"Think so...sorry I woke you, Kid."
"Was already awake. Been thinking about that message."
"Me too," Larabee said and stroked back the hair that had fallen across his forehead.
"Who do you think is behind it?"
"I don't know...but I plan on finding out," the blond assured the younger man.
"Wish I could remember more..."
"I know...it'll come back, JD, and when it does we'll get the sonofabitch!" Larabee concentrated on moving his legs, but nothing happened and he pounded his fist on the bed in frustration.
"I'm sorry, Chris," Dunne's voice was laced with sorrow.
"You don't have anything to be sorry for, Son," Larabee said and turned to look at the youngest member of his team. "We'll figure this out."
"Hope so. Buck's feeling mighty bad about what he did."
"I know, but I don't blame him and I aim to tell him every time he tries to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders." Larabee frowned when he heard the distant sound of sirens and looked out the window to see a flash of fire light up the sky. He sat forward and held his breath when he realized the location of the explosion.
"Chris! You don't think..."
"I don't know, Kid!" Larabee said and grabbed for the phone, cursing when he realized the lines were shut off for the night. He reached for the button pinned next to the pillow and waited for the nurse to answer.
"Can I help you?"
"I need a phone!" Larabee told her.
"I'm sorry, but the phones are shut off..."
"Look. I don't give a damn if they're shut off. I need to make a call!" The blond struggled to sit up further and pressed the button to lower the rail. He used his hands to lever his legs over the edge and screamed when his feet hit the floor and he pitched forward.
"Chris!" Dunne shouted and hurried around the bed, cursing the IV attached to his arm.
"Mr. Dunne, you should be in bed!" the night nurse ordered upon entering the room.
"JD...make...make the call...find out," Chris gasped out and tried to breathe past the mounting nausea and pain. He struggled to get up, but the woman held him on the floor before pressing the button and summoning help.
A second nurse entered the room and tried to block Dunne's exit, but he brushed past her, gritting his teeth in an effort to control the mounting pain washing over his battered body. JD could hear the nurses talking and heard one mention blood, but he stumbled to the desk and reached for the phone. Dialing for an outside line, the young man ignored the nurses and called the security desk in The Firm's building. He drummed his fingers impatiently and was relieved to hear a familiar voice, but the tone was one of impending disaster.
"Tom, it's JD Dunne..."
"JD...Jesus..."
"What's wrong?" the Bostonian asked worriedly.
"An explosion...all hell broke loose. Police and fire department..."
"Wait, Tom, listen!" Dunne ordered.
"Sorry...what?"
"Me and Chris could see the explosion? Knew it was..."
"Mr. Dunne, you need to get back to bed!"
"Not yet! No, not you, Tom. I was talking to the nurse. I'm okay. Look, do you know what caused the explosion?"
"Not yet."
"Tom?"
"Look, JD, I gotta go. The police are here."
"Wait, Tom!" Dunne cursed when he placed the phone back in its cradle and turned to find a doctor hurrying into his room. He limped to the door and found the nurse and the unknown physician helping Larabee into bed. The blond's face had a washed out quality to it that spoke volumes to the younger man and Dunne knew he was in more pain than he'd been in earlier.
"JD...did you..."
"Mr. Larabee, I need you to be still..."
"JD!" the injured blond ground out when they placed him back on the bed.
"Get a set of vitals on him!" Jason Kettering ordered, disliking the way the patient was breathing. He knew they'd done abdominal surgery and reached to check the bandages, silently cursing when he saw the fresh blood.
"Tom said there was an explosion...the police and fire department are there," Dunne explained and sat on the edge of his own bed. His gaze wandered to the window where the ominous fire burned brightly in the distance.
"Mr. Larabee, I need to check the surgical incision..."
"It's fine!" Larabee said flatly. "JD call Buck..."
"No, it's not fine," Kettering snapped, turning to the second patient. "And you stay put!"
"I need to..."
"Get back in the bed," the nurse told him and stood with her hands on her hips. Katie Mulligan had been a nurse for nearly twenty years and she knew how to handle patients, even stubborn ones like Larabee and Dunne.
"Just one..."
"Sonofa..." Larabee ground out when the physician peeled back the bandages. He tried to breathe normally, but the cold hands expertly prodded the area before ordering a new dressing tray and pain medication. Chris knew it wouldn't take much to put him out and at any other time he would have welcomed the release from pain, but something about the explosion nagged at him and he couldn't help but feel one or more of his team was involved. He turned his head and shied away from the nurse when she tried to put an oxygen mask in place, but she persevered and he gruffly gave in.
Dunne watched the medical staff work on his boss and didn't even realize when he'd gotten back into his bed. Mulligan had lifted the rails in place and effectively took away any thoughts of a second phone call. He turned and looked out the window and felt a tremor of fear through his body.
Peter Cavanaugh knelt beside the injured man and checked for a pulse. There was no doubt in his mind the woman was dead, but his partner was verifying that information while firemen worked to put out the blazing inferno that had once been a car. He quickly assessed his patient and reached for the C-collar.
"We'll need the coroner," Miguel Rodriguez said when he joined his partner and began hooking up the monitoring equipment. "How is he?"
"He's in bad shape," Cavanaugh answered and turned his attention to checking for further injuries. The two paramedics worked swiftly and efficiently in order to get the injured man ready for transport to Saint Vincents. It wasn't long before Wilmington was placed on a backboard, an oxygen mask covering his face and saline soaked gauze covering the worst of the burns on his back.
Tom took a deep breath after the call from JD Dunne and knew he had several phone calls to make. He'd seen Sandra McCollum rush past and several seconds later heard the explosion that took out the glass windows and main door. He'd hurried outside and was shocked to see a fireball shooting high into the air. He'd hit the alarms and knew the police and fire department would be on the move within seconds of being notified. He knew who the two bodies were and quickly checked them. The girl was beyond help, but Wilmington still had life in him. He knew better than to move him and had been glad when the emergency vehicles arrived on the scene. Now it was up to him to notify Wilmington's friends. He reached for the main line and quickly called Orrin Travis' home number.
Several officers entered through the main doors and he answered their questions as best he could while waiting for the building's owner to answer the call.
Peter Cavanaugh climbed into the back of the ambulance and nodded to his partner to shut the door. He looked at the monitors and was relieved to see things were within normal parameters, but he knew that could change in a heartbeat. He checked the oxygen mask and waited for his partner to start the vehicle. It wasn't long before the warbling sirens echoed across the sleeping city.
The sound of the phone jolted the former judge completely awake and he reached for the phone even as his wife grumbled about the ungodly hour. He smiled and held the phone to his ear and spoke softly.
"Travis."
"Mr. Travis, it's Tom Robinson..."
"Tom...what's wrong?"
"There's been an explosion, Sir."
"Damn...how and where?" Travis asked holding his hand up to silence his wife's questions when she sat up next to him.
"In the parking lot. Wilmington's car..."
"Sonofabitch! Tell me he wasn't in it!"
"No...he wasn't...but he was close to it when it exploded. He's on his way to Saint Vincents now."
"How bad?" Travis asked worriedly.
"I'm not sure, Sir, I only had a quick glance at him, but..."
"What?" the former judge inquired, a shiver of dread racing down his spine.
"Sandra McCollum was killed in the blast..."
"Oh, God," Travis said, closing his eyes while visions of the pretty young woman flashed through his memory.
"Orrin, what's wrong?" Evie asked.
"Buck's been hurt and one of the gym employees was killed."
"Oh, no," Evie said and placed her hand against her mouth.
"Sir, do you want me to call the others?"
"No, thanks, Tom, I'll handle it," the older man assured the security guard. "I'll take care of notifying Miss McCollum's family too...thanks, Tom."
Evie looked at her husband and felt him tremble when he replaced the phone and turned to pull her close. She held him for several minutes, letting him know she was there when he was ready. Orrin Travis cared about these men as if they were family and she suddenly realized that was true of her own feelings as well.
"Buck's on his way to the hospital, Evie."
"Why don't you get dressed and I'll drive you there?"
"I need to call the others...need to warn them. Someone's declared war on my men and I'm not going to sit back and allow anyone else to get hurt."
"Orrin, we'll find out who it is..."
"We?" Travis asked.
"They're my family too and I hurt when you hurt," Evie explained. "Go get dressed. I'll call Josiah and have him call the others."
Orrin kissed her and sighed tiredly before standing up. "Seems like we're spending more time at the hospital than in our own homes lately."
"I know," Evie said and watched him walk unsteadily toward the master bathroom. She shivered, as icy fingers seemed to dance along her spine and wondered who had targeted her husband's agency and how many more calls like this one would he have to answer. Sighing heavily, Evie picked up the phone and dialed Sanchez's home number.
Stacey Midland had just come on duty when Buck Wilmington was raced into the ER. She listened to the paramedic rattle off the vital statistics and hurried her team into Trauma One. Buck was breathing on his own, but there were diminished breath sounds on his right side, which could signify damage to his ribs and lung. Stacey checked her patient's pupil reaction while two nurses cut the remaining clothes from the injured man's body. They quickly took blood samples and she placed a call for portable x-ray and an MRI.
"Get another line in him," Midland ordered when she took note of the low blood pressure. "Hold on, Buck!"
"Did you say something Doctor?" Willie Craven asked.
"Sorry, just thinking aloud. Cavanaugh said his back took the brunt of the explosion. Who's the burn specialist on call?" the physician asked.
"Dr. Meadows," Craven answered.
"Have her paged!" Midland continued to examine the newest arrival and wondered whether someone had put a curse on the hospital staff. Two injured men from the Firm was bad enough, but it looked like a third was about to join them 'Be glad he's alive to join them,' she thought, wincing when she saw the angle of Wilmington left leg. There was no doubt in her mind it was broken, but where and how badly was the question that needed to be answered.
"I've also paged Dr. Frost," Craven told her and began cleaning the blood from Wilmington's right cheek.
"Good," Midland said and heard a soft groan from her patient. She watched his face and knew he was coming around when the eyelids flickered and opened. Buck's face showed how much pain he was in and Midland knew until they had more information there was very little she could give him. They seemed to be dealing with a head injury and lung problems and together they were a dangerous combination even without adding drugs to the mix.
"Stacey, what have we got?" Meadows asked upon entering the room.
"Easy, Buck," Midland said and placed a calming hand on his shoulder.
"Doc...happened?" The confusion was as easy to read as the pain, and Buck gasped when he tried to breathe deeply from the oxygen mask covering the lower half of his face.
"There was a car explosion...we don't know what was involved yet," Midland answered both the burn specialist and her patient.
Buck listened to the medical personnel and tried to put together the pieces of his shattered memory. He remembered going to the gym at the building and talking to Sandra, but after that everything got fuzzy. He thought he'd gone to his car, but somehow he'd gotten turned around. His breathing grew ragged when his mind flashed on a pair of lifeless eyes staring at him across the brightly lit macadam.
"San...Sandra...God..."
"Buck, you need to calm down. You're going to be okay, but we need to take care of a few things..."
"Doc...dead...she's dead...Sandra..." Buck tried to move, but was held immobile by the straps holding him to the backboard. His mind flashed once more and he saw her smiling face when she offered to listen to him and he knew he'd never hear those words from her again.
Midland watched her patient closely until his eyes closed and he lost consciousness. She had no idea who Sandra was, but there was no doubt in her mind that her death had touched this man's heart and it would be a long time before he was over it. She just hoped it would not weigh too heavily on his soul.
PHOENIX
Michael Biehn Archive
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The characters belong to various production/film/TV companies. No profit is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.
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Stranded 2 by Winnie
Author's Chapter Notes: This is written for anyone celebrating a birthday during the month of August. Thanks to Marti and Antoinette for the wonderful beta job. Ladies, you rock. |