3. Gage

Chapter Three

GAGE

My wrist was raw, but that didn’t stop me from yanking at the handcuffs that trapped me to the rail of my hospital bed.No way out unless I dismantled the bed itself.Given the right tools, I could probably pull it off, but not with Wyatt watching my every move.

There he was, arms crossed, one shoulder propped against the wall.Tall, dark, and smug as hell, with that damn uniform tight in all the right places.His shoulders were broad enough to fireman-carry the Empire State Building, and he'd rolled his sleeves just enough to show off the corded muscle of his forearms.I was no slouch, but I didn't doubt for a second that Wyatt could take me without breaking a sweat—in every sense of the word.

He hadn't made a sound since the doctor walked in, but he didn't need to.Wyatt's quiet authority had the whole staff on edge.Even the doc kept sneaking nervous glances over his coke-bottle glasses, like he thought Wyatt was waiting to grade his technique.Not that I blamed him. If I had Wyatt looming over me like that, I'd be sweating bullets, too.

Wyatt's expression gave nothing away, but those eyes?I didn't like the look of them.They were too alert and too possessive.Like he thought he had some kind of claim on me.Years ago, I would've folded if he so much as blinked at me the right way, but that was a long time ago.

Wyatt had his chance, and he blew it.

I hated the way he looked at me.I hated being cuffed to this bed, forced to sit in a hospital where I’d never felt safe.It was the same hospital Wyatt had taken me to the night he found me.I hated the fog in my head from the pain meds I’d choked down on a sip of lukewarm water.But mostly, I hated how good Wyatt still looked, and the way I couldn't stop looking back.

So, I fixed my gaze on the ceiling lights and refused to look away even when I started seeing spots.I already had a killer headache from the tire iron, but the fluorescent tubes didn't help.They filled the room with a sterile glow so bright I felt like I was being abducted by aliens.Maybe that’s why my near-sighted doc had his nose smashed in my armpit while he probed my ribs.

“Does that hurt?” he asked, pressing hard on the rib just below my left pec.

Sweat broke out across my forehead, and I had to grind my molars together to keep from making noise.“Nah, feels great,” I gasped.

“You may have fractured your seventh rib.That’s the area most affected by a punch to the kidneys, so it’s a common injury among a certain…demographic.” He tapped something into his tablet, using one finger.“No flail segments, no signs of internal damage.We could do an X-ray to confirm, but I see you don’t have insurance.You might as well save yourself the bill.”

“Run the test,” Wyatt ordered from his brooding corner.“I’ll cover it.”

I shot him a warning glare. “You’re starting to piss me off."

"Is that supposed to scare me?"

"It’s just some busted ribs and a knock on the head," I gritted out through clenched teeth."I’ve gotten worse from Dominic when he's in a bad mood.”

“You have a moderate concussion,” the doctor added, squinting between us over the rim of his glasses and looking remarkably unimpressed.“Protocol is rest and limited screen time for a minimum of forty-eight hours.Longer would be better, but?—”

"That's what she said," I interrupted, just to be annoying."I'm fine. Slap some tape on it and stop fussing.”

The doc’s lips twitched, but I had no idea if it was irritation or amusement.“Yes, that’s more or less what I expected.I’ll send a nurse to bandage you.Don’t go anywhere.” He glanced down at the cuffs locking me to the rail, chuckled to himself, and then whisked out of the room with a flap of his white coat.

A suffocating silence filled the room the moment he left.My eyes began to water from staring at the overhead lights, so I let my gaze drift.Wyatt hadn’t moved an inch. He was still watching me.Those dark, intense eyes never blinked.

Slowly, he pushed off the wall and crossed the distance between us.

My body reacted before my brain could catch up, and I jerked against the cuffs. Escape. The word repeated with the tripping of my pulse.Escape now, before I made a fool of myself, like I always did around him.

“I’m fine,” I blurted, cutting him off before he could launch into whatever lecture he was gearing up to deliver.“I took worse hits every night when I was bouncing for bars on the strip.These guys were lightweights.Crazy they didn’t finish me off when they had the chance.”

“Amateurs, like you said. They probably panicked,” Wyatt replied in a voice that rumbled up my spine.“But you were reckless. You need to be more careful.”

My skin prickled with humiliation.“I don’t need your concern, Deputy Brooks.”

His lips quirked at the corner.“Maybe not. But you’re getting it anyway.”

Just that hint of a smile was enough to send a bolt of lust shooting straight to my groin.I shifted uncomfortably, angling for a position that eased the ache.Those dark eyes were drowning me, but now that I'd bit the bullet and looked at him, I refused to be the one who looked away first.

Wyatt’s gaze held mine, searching, and then dropped deliberately to my mouth.

“You keep making things hard on yourself,” he murmured, reaching out to brush the steel bracelet on mywrist.The touch jolted me upright, and his eyes tracked downward, landing at the base of mythroat.Right where I could feel my pulsehammering.

“Maybe I like it hard,” I snappedthoughtlessly.

Wyatt’s smile only grew. He leaned in, close enough that his breath skimmed over my cheek, and whispered, “Iknow.”

Oh, fuck.

The sudden boom of a man’s deep baritone snapped the tension, and both our heads whipped toward the sound.Sheriff Kent Vanderhoff filled the doorway, radiating disapproval like God's own judge.Barrel-chested and stuffed into a spotless uniform, he stared me down with the same superior expression that had always made me want to put my fist through something.Usually his face.

Wyatt slipped in front of me so casually, so naturally, it looked like he was just shifting his weight.But I knew better. He’d positioned himself between me and Vanderhoff like a buffer.But which of us was he protecting?

"Well, look who came crawling back into my town," he drawled, thick and syrupy, like a cartoon version of Colonel Sanders."Right back to chapping my ass, too.But you're an adult now, boy, and your daddy's not here to protect you anymore.We're not letting you go this time."

"We haven't gotten a full story yet, Kent," Wyatt cautioned stoically.

Vanderhoff's glare shifted to Wyatt, and his lip curled."You're always a soft touch when it comes to this family, Brooks, but I don't care what kind of sob story he fed you.We've got him on theft and assault.Hell, maybe even a kidnapping charge, depending on the story we get out of the girl once she's awake."

"You mean the story you feed her, you sonofabitch?" I snarled, straining at my cuffs so hard I swore I heard the bed creak.

Boone had shoved me on that bus five years ago to keep me from going after Vanderhoff, and for a while, I thought it worked.My rage hadn't faded, exactly, but all the way in Vegas it began to feel distant and fuzzy.Irrelevant. Not anymore. My skin crawled at the sight of the man, from his full head of perfectly combed blond hair to his slick politician's grin.

The urge to rip his head off pulsed through me with each spike of my blood pressure.I might have done it, too. Might have bent the flimsy rail off the bed and gone for his throat, but my brother’s voice pulled me back at the last second.

“Those are some ambitious claims, Sheriff.” Mason strode into the room, looking cool and calm and every bit the polished attorney in his tailored suit.His black hair was long enough to brush the collar of his jacket, too long for his line of work, and his sharp features carried a roughness that didn’t quite fit with the high-end veneer.I hadn’t seen him since before he'd passed the bar exam, and I was surprised at how easily he’d slipped into his lawyer persona.His blue eyes, blazing with purpose behind his designer glasses, dropped to the handcuffs chaining me to the bed.“Is my client under arrest, Deputy Brooks?”

“No,” Wyatt said firmly, looking directly at his boss.“Just detained for questioning.”

Mason’s expression lit with cool approval.“As his attorney, I suggest you release him.He won’t be answering any questions without me.”

“He can answer the rest down at the station,” Vanderhoff blustered.“He stole a truck. I can’t ignore that, no matter how far back your father and I went.I took it easy on him when he was a juvenile, but he’s a grown man now.”

I barked out a laugh. “Took it easy on me?Like hell.”

That asshole had been waiting years for a chance to throw one of us behind bars.Ben might’ve gotten the brunt of it, but I hadn’t forgotten how much pleasure Vanderhoff took in every chance to screw with me.He lived to make life hell for anyone with the Beaufort name.It never seemed to matter to him that my brothers and I weren't related to Boone by blood.Anything Boone loved, Vanderhoff hated on principal.Including us. Especially us. Sticking it to us was sticking it to him, even from beyond the grave, apparently.

Mason cut me a quelling look and moved to stand beside Wyatt.Between the two of them acting as a bulwark, I was almost completely blocked from view.I could only see a slice of him between their shoulders.

“He acted under exigent circumstances, as outlined in the Louisiana Revised Statutes.You should be familiar with the statute, Sheriff, but in case you’ve forgotten, I’ll refresh your memory.” Mason’s voice was calm, cutting, the way he always was when he had someone dead to rights.“An individual isn’t criminally liable for property crimes when committed in defense of persons or property under immediate threat.Gage took that truck to save a life.”

“He committed a crime,” Vanderhoff snarled, complexion growing darker by the second.

Mason didn’t blink. “But can you prove it in a court of law?”

Vanderhoff squared his shoulders, stepping forward like he thought his size alone was intimidating.Mason didn’t budge; he just looked at him with cool indifference.Physical intimidation didn’t work on any of us, not with our backgrounds, and not when we’d grown up with Gideon and Dominic as older brothers.

“I’m just doing my job,” Vanderhoff growled, practically vibrating with indignation.“If I go easy on him, folks in Devil’s Garden will think I’ve gone soft.Or worse, that I’m playing favorites because of your family's money."

“We wouldn’t want that,” Mason said cynically.

I covered a laugh by coughing into my fist.Wyatt pressed his lips together and glanced up at the ceiling, doing a perfect impression of someone who’d suddenly gone blind and deaf.But Mason didn’t miss a beat, adding, “Louisiana law is quite clear on the subject, however.It recognizes the principle of necessity, and you’d be well advised to do the same before you push for charges that won’t hold up in court.”

“He started a fight in the Dead End’s parking lot.I’ve already spoken to witnesses from inside the bar.” Vanderhoff puffed out his chest, trying to regain the upper hand.But that wasn’t in the cards.Mason Beaufort was the king of control.

“Reluctant witnesses, I’m sure,” Mason replied with a smirk.He tilted his head, eyes flashing behind his lenses, and asked, “What about my brother’s supposed victims?Have you found them yet?”

“We will,” Vanderhoff blustered.His cheeks were flushed, coloring his sunken face with an anger he could barely contain.I’d never seen him any other way.

I could feel the barely concealed amusement leaking off Wyatt.I'd never understood how he had the patience to work for a man like Vanderhoff, but I bet watching the blowhard get taken down a peg was the highlight of his month.

“Besides,” Vanderhoff continued, “I’ve got the girl.I recognized her right off. Street kid who’s been in and out of trouble all year, mixed up with people she shouldn’t be.She’ll sing like a songbird once I get a few minutes alone with her.”

Wyatt’s head snapped up. I shot him a questioning look, but his face was blank as a fresh sheet of paper.He cleared his throat and said, “The kid’s a victim, Kent.”

Vanderhoff shot Wyatt an annoyed look.“We don’t know that, Deputy. We haven’t even questioned her yet.”

“Well, you haven’t,” Mason said, coolly amused.“I spoke with her briefly when she first woke up.”

Vanderhoff’s pale, watery-blue eyes—stupidly bright for someone with his ugly mug—widened with interest.“She’s awake?”

Mason nodded. “Her name is Ivy, and she’s agreed to take me as her legal representative.I’ve already pulled her foster records.She’s run away from three homes in as many months, so we’ll be placing her in emergency care at Eden House.She hasn’t shared much yet. No details on her situation.She’s scared, Sheriff, and as of right now, she’s exercising her right to remain silent.Anything further goes through me.”

“I want to talk to her.” Vanderhoff turned sharply on his perfectly shined boot, storming out of the room without a second glance in my direction.Like I was some small fry next to an unknown waif of a girl.

“Go after him, Mason,” I said softly.“I don’t want her alone with him.”

My brother let out a breath, and for the first time, he relaxed, dropping his military posture by a hair.He glanced at me, and his eyes softened.“I’ve got this,” he said. Then his gaze shifted to Wyatt, and that brief spark of humanity died.“Get him out of those cuffs before I slap your ass with a lawsuit.”

He was out the door in an instant, leaving only the faintest trace of Creed Adventus cologne in the air.A ghost in a three-piece suit.

The tension drained out of me all at once.I sank back against the shapeless hospital pillow and stared at the ceiling.“You called Mason, didn’t you?” I asked without bothering to look at Wyatt.

There was a note of grim satisfaction in his voice when he said, “I figured that if you were involved, Kent wouldn’t let you go easily.Your brother just saved me a mountain of paperwork.”

“Vanderhoff came out of the womb with a hard-on for my family,” I muttered, giving a weary tug on my cuffs.My wrist was sore, but I couldn’t stop myself.There was nothing I hated more than being restrained.

Wyatt chuckled. “You’re not wrong.”

His eyes lingered on my face a beat too long.He’d been doing that all night, and it was putting me on edge.He’d made his feelings crystal clear the night he rejected me.The horror on his face, the coldness in his eyes, the way he’d shoved me off him like I was something…disgusting.I’d never forget it. Sure, a small, cheap part of me felt vindicated that I’d changed enough for him to look at me with interest now.But the biggest part of me? It wanted revenge.I wanted him to feel the kind of hurt he’d put me through.

“You gonna let me out of here?” I asked, tugging on the cuff again.

Wyatt’s smile faded. “That depends,” he said solemnly.“Are you going to behave yourself while Vanderhoff's in the same building?”

It was a fair question. The bastard had railroaded Ben into murder charges.The last time Wyatt had seen me, I'd been half-crazed in my need for revenge.But I couldn't let him see how much I still wanted that, so I laughed.“What do you think I’m going to do?Go after him in front of you while he’s surrounded by hospital security?You think I’m looking for trouble?”

I gave him my most innocent look, but Wyatt wasn’t buying what I was selling.

“I think trouble’s got your name written on it in neon,” he said dryly, but he pulled out the handcuff keys anyway.He took my hand almost gently, turning it to access the lock.The cuff opened with a quiet click, but he didn’t let go right away.My fingers twitched in his grip.He held on for a second longer than he needed to, leaving a trail of warmth behind when he finally released me.

I grimaced and flexed my wrist, ignoring the way my pulse was racing.He was standing too close. Close enough for me to hear the hitch in his breath.Whatever was coming next, I knew it was something I didn’t want to talk about.

“Gage,” Wyatt said, his voice low and strained.“I know you don’t trust me. I guess you’ve got every reason?—”

I snorted. “You think?”

“—but I’m trying to help you,” he went on, ignoring my interruption.

That pissed me off. "Yeah? Well, you're a day late and a dollar short.You had your chance to help the night you arrested Ben."

“Ben killed someone, Gage.” Frustration edged into his tone.“What was I supposed to do?”

“You were supposed to fight for him!” Fight for me.

“My hands were tied, and you damn well know it.Besides, this isn’t about Ben.You’re just using him as an excuse to be pissed at me.”

I let out a harsh bark of laughter.“I don’t need an excuse.”

“Yeah, you never did.” He stepped back, finally putting some distance between us, breaking the coil of tension that had me wound tight as a spring.When he turned toward the door, I told myself I'd won.But it didn't feel like it. “I’ll check on the girl and make sure everything’s squared away with Mason,” he tossed over his shoulder.“Get some rest—and stay out of trouble.”

“Bite me,” I shot back, but he acted like he hadn’t even heard, robbing me of all satisfaction.

Just likethat, he was gone, leaving me alone in this sterile room with only my own resentment echoing off the walls.I let out a frustrated growl and slammed my head back against the pillow, but that only sent a shaft of pain blazing through my bruisedskull.My chest was tight, and not just because of the bustedribs.

Wyatt had a way of stripping me down, leaving me raw and exposed everytime.I could never get a handle on what was happening betweenus.I’d thought I put the past behindme.I knew who I was in Vegas, but less than a day back in Devil’s Garden and everything came rushingback.

And I hadn’t even faced my older brothersyet.