Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Welker didn’t want to miss Moira waking up, but he felt like he’d been through the wringer since they’d gotten the call-out at two in the morning. It was now six in the evening, and he barely knew his own name. He wasn’t physically exhausted, but mentally he was completely out of steam.

The trek out of the woods, walking beside an unconscious Moira on that stretcher had been agony. He’d held onto her hand, tightly, hoping for a squeeze or a twitch, but her fingers had remained limp. His heart had cried out to any higher power that would listen, that he needed this woman. He didn’t know if he could live without her.

While he’d made promises to all the deities, there’d been an ambulance ride that had seemed like it had lasted forever; even though instead of the forty minutes it would normally take, the crew had stepped on it and made the trip in less than thirty.

Upon arrival at the hospital, they’d wheeled Moira in, and Welker had been denied access while the doctors assessed her. His team had needed to intervene and calm him down, because he’d been ready to tear the entire place down in order to go with her.

After what had seemed like another immeasurable amount of time, the doctors had sent word that they’d rushed Moira into surgery. All this was done via Alvero, who knew a lot of the staff and had been kept in the loop. He’d told Welker that Moira’s condition was serious, but the surgeons here were top notch.

Time had dragged on…and on…and on…

Sitting in recovery several angst-filled hours later, Welker held onto a still comatose Moira, with the knowledge that all her post-op reports had come back, and the surgery had, from the doctors’ standpoints, been a complete success.

As pumped as Welker was over that, it also had his adrenals taking a sudden nose-dive once he was allowed to be by her side, because he was beyond exhausted.

“You know you can go get some rest,” Mason told him, laying a hand on his shoulder from his position where he stood behind Welk.

That’s how out-of-it Welker was. He hadn’t even known the chief was there.

“Thanks, boss. But I’ll stay.” He tamped down a yawn. “The nurse said Moira should be coming around soon, and I want to be here for her.”

Mason stepped back and grinned. “Sooo… You love her, huh?”

Welker gave a tired chuckle. “I’m never going to hear the end of that, am I?” he groaned. “Announcing it like that over the comms.”

“Nope,” Mason’s grin turned even toothier. “You’re going to get so much shit.”

“And that serves me right?” Welker raised a brow…or at least he thought he did.

“It sure does,” Mason concurred. “Not one of us forgets how much crap you gave us when we fell for our partners. So, expect a shit-load of razzing over the next few weeks.” Mase’s face actually sobered after that jab. “As well as a lot of help,” he added. “Don’t be a dope and try to do everything for Moira all by yourself once you get her home. You have fifty teammates at your disposal, and don’t you forget it.”

Welker closed his eyes, touched, and opened them to give Mason a tired smile. “I won’t, boss. And thank you. I know you won’t let me go it alone. And my mom, Callie, and Sabira have already come and gone to my place making a soft spot for Moira to land.” He took a second to marvel at what he’d been told by the doctors. “Can you believe with a surgery like hers, they’re only keeping Moira here for two days?”

“Insurance companies.” Mason rolled his eyes. “But on the plus side, healing at home is better for the psyche.”

“Whose? Mine, or Moira’s?” Welker joked.

“Ask me that again after you’ve spent a couple recovery-weeks at each other’s throats,” Mason quipped, then became serious. “Uh, Welk? As regards to the MC after Moira, I figured you might want to have an update. We actually got nothing out of the three perps you guys incapacitated, but they’ve been pretty smug about saying how they expect to be let off on all charges once they’re discharged from the hospital later today.”

“GSW’s not so debilitating, then?” He actually hadn’t aimed to kill, but sometimes shit happened.

“Grazes only,” Mason sighed.

Welker might be brain-dead as he pondered the perps’ assertions that Mason had relayed, but he wasn’t stupid. “They think someone with a higher authority is going to wipe their slates clean.”

“Yup. They do. Leading us to continue speculating that Moira’s sheriff’s department somehow has fingers in this pie,” Mason agreed. “And on that note, Hayden isn’t wasting any time. Considering the increased risk to Moira, she’s already stepped it up with a bigger gun; that guy named Tex with whom her group all interfaces regularly. She says he’s a master at digging up information on anyone, anywhere, so Tex has been doing a deep dive into Gladstone and Pickenstahl’s finances and current call-history.”

“Don’t leave out the new guy, Murphy.”

Welker jumped.

Moira’s raspy voice had surprised him. It was weak, but held conviction as she added, “He’s sketchy as hell.”

“Moira.” Welker gazed into her open, brown eyes, his tiredness all of a sudden, gone. “Welcome back. Damn, woman. You gave me a scare.”

She nodded slowly. “Me, too. I was…” she coughed feebly.

“Shh. Don’t try to talk yet. I’m supposed to call the nurse the minute you’re awake.” Welker was swiftly on his feet, but couldn’t bring himself to let go of Moira’s hand which was currently wrapping itself around his.

Moira nodded faintly.

“I’ll go,” Mason said, then smiled at Moira. “Nice to have you back, Deputy.”

She blinked and gave the boss a lopsided smile before he strode off, looking for someone in authority.

Welker sat back down, reaching with his free hand to sweep the hair off Moira’s face and behind one ear. “Everyone is in the waiting room. Hanging around until they know you’re awake.”

Moira looked confused. “Everyone, who?” she finally managed to ask.

“The entire team, as well as my mother, sister, and Sabira. A few of your colleagues from the sheriff’s department who are either concerned, or are here as spies for your boss, are hanging around, too.” He gave a wry twist of his lips. “Even Margaret got a ride in with Sin and has been keeping everyone’s spirits up, feeding them her homemade banana bread.”

Moira raised a brow.

“Yup. She’s happy she has lots of young stomachs to experiment on.”

Moira gave a semi-chuckle, looking like she was drifting off again, but he could tell she was touched by the outpouring of love. It was sad that she’d never considered herself worthy of her colleagues’ regard because of the way her father had treated her. But from now on, Welker swore he was going to make sure she knew she was the most deserving person, ever, even if it killed him.

“Hayden also sends her love,” he told her, watching her blink to stay awake. “But she didn’t want to come in because she’s not supposed to know you, and we don’t want to blow her cover.”

Moira gave a chin-dip to that, just before the curtain was whisked open and a nurse bustled in with Mason right behind.

The nurse immediately went to work checking Moira’s lines and vitals, and after she recorded everything on her standing computer, she flashed them a big smile.

“Everything looks great,” she assured them, then turned her attention directly to Moira. “But if you have any sudden, sharp pains, or changes in your breathing or heart rate, you let me know immediately. It’s my opinion, however, that you’re doing just fine. Which means you can have some water. Not too much at first,” she warned. “Just enough to wet your whistle.”

Welker picked up the cup he’d already filled, and held it out toward Moira with the straw at an easy angle.

She took two small sips and swallowed before closing her eyes in appreciation. “Good. Thanks.”

The nurse nodded. “I’m going to get the surgeon now. If he agrees with my assessment, we’ll have you moved to a room within the hour.”

“Thank you, nurse…” Welker hesitated. If she’d mentioned her name any of the times she’d stopped by to check up on Moira, it hadn’t registered.

“Tamara,” she answered, not at all put out. “I’ll be on shift until our patient is moved if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Tamara,” Welker responded as she ducked out.

He felt suddenly reenergized. Alive.

Mason grinned at the pair of them. “I’ll leave you two alone now. I’m going to let all our friends and family know you’re awake and send them home for the night. The staff have been having a fit at the number of bodies overflowing their waiting room, not to mention the lookie-loos who are popping in to ogle our team.”

Welker didn’t doubt it. When the squads amassed, all decked out as they still were in their BDU’s, they were a sight to see.

Moira smiled, but closed her eyes again as he watched her.

“That’s right. Go to sleep, sweetheart,” Welker urged. “There’s nothing to do now, but heal.”

Things seemed to happen rapidly after that. The surgeon came in and pronounced Moira, fine. An orderly arrived shortly thereafter and transported her upstairs to a private room. She got settled quickly with a new nurse in attendance, and very soon after that, Welker took a chair and fell sound asleep beside Moira, his head cradled on his arms next to where she slept.

They were both in and out of slumber until the next morning, when the day nurse came to get Moira up and into the bathroom —for which she was grateful. Then, after eating a bland, soft breakfast, a stream of visitors started up.

First, it was each and every squad member, arriving in groups of five. They came with flowers, funny little stuffed birds in a vast array of colors, and Sin had even found a rubber ducky in a sheriff’s uniform that she gifted Moira. It was all so touching. Each teammate assured Moira that if she needed anything, to simply ask; and that included smuggled food when she got tired of the crap that she was being served.

Mason and Everlee stood supervising each unit as they came and went, then after the entire team had finally passed through, they gave Moira gentle hugs and also took their leave.

In the afternoon, Welker’s mother Bette came with Margaret in tow. Callie and Sabira showed up a few minutes later, and because the available chairs were taken, they sat on either side of Moira who was propped up in bed. They chatted about the special dishes Sabira would whip up, once Moira got home.

“Wow.” Things had obviously, finally hit Moira. “This has been…” her eyes became decidedly teary. After a full day of love, she was clearly overcome. “I can’t believe all this.” She swept her arm around the room at the myriad of bouquets and gifts that had amassed.

Sabira put a hand on Moira’s arm and squeezed. “You deserve everything and m?—”

The door opened, interrupting Sabira.

A man walked in as if he owned the place.

Welker wasn’t familiar with him. Who was?—?

“Moira,” the man grunted gruffly.

“Father?” Moira’s face went from calm and happy, to instantly on alert.

Shit. This was her father. Welker didn’t like it.

Moira was supposed to be relaxing, and this asshole’s presence had clearly put her on edge. And from what he’d heard about Tom Bliss, Welker understood Moira’s trepidation. The man had better behave. If he so much as blinked sideways, Welk wouldn’t be responsible for his actions.

While the man took in the room and clearly found it lacking, Welker assessed him.

Tall. Good looking enough if you liked the pretentiously dressed, overly-groomed thing the man had going on. Salt and pepper hair. Clear brown eyes, and a minor resemblance to Moira in his strong chin and cheekbone structure. But that’s where the likenesses ended. Moira had nothing of this man’s baked-in arrogance.

“What are you doing here?” Moira finally asked, and Welker noticed her chin trembling.

“The sheriff called and told me you’d been shot. He said you were at death’s door.” Mr. Bliss’s mouth tightened. “I came to see if that was true, but now I know he was exaggerating. You’re fine, and clearly you have your girlfriend here to comfort you so you don’t need me to help you with anything.” There was a pained look on his face as he regarded Sabira, whose had was still on Moira, before he awkwardly gazed around at the rainbow-colored birds that decorated the room, taking a few steps backward.

Welker had heard enough. “First of all,” he said, stepping up beside Moira, “that girlfriend you mentioned isn’t Moira’s girlfriend. She’s my sister’s wife.” He pointed to both women, then continued. “Which still doesn’t account for why that even matters.”

Mr. Bliss looked confused. “Who are you?”

“I’m Moira’s boyfriend ,” Welker growled.

That got the shocked face that Welker expected, and he didn’t give a shit as he kept speaking. “And just to let you know, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of all Moira’s needs, so don’t feel you have to stay here out of any sudden and unprecedented onset of parental concern. There’s the door.”

Welker knew he might have overstepped, but he didn’t like that Moira had looked like a defeated woman upon her father’s arrival. He also wanted her to know he’d do anything short of murdering the son-of-a-bitch, to make her feel comfortable.

Welker’s entire speech about Tom leaving went right over the man’s head as he gawped at Welk. “You…? She…?” The man glanced rapidly between Welker and Moira, his mouth hanging open.

Moira finally answered.

“That’s right, Father. I’m his girlfriend.” Moira acted as if she might be coming around, albeit slowly, to regaining her sense of self. She nodded between Welk and her patriarch. “Welker Vestore, meet Thomas Bliss.”

She laid her hand over Sabira’s who’d attempted to draw it away, and held it in place with a shake of her head.

Good for Moira .

Since his woman was stepping up, Welker would try not to be too much of an asshole. He stuck out his hand first, and Tom actually accepted the gesture, shaking distractedly as he took in Welk’s casual appearance. Luckily, Welk’s family had brought him clean jeans and a T-shirt, so he wasn’t in yesterday’s turn-outs. Not that he gave a shit. He kind of wished he was filthy and still smelled bad.

Tom cleared his throat. “You’re actually…?”

“Moira’s boyfriend,” Welker repeated, unable to keep the chill out of his voice as he took two steps in Tom’s direction.

The man opened his mouth, but Moira spoke first.

“Why are you really here, Father?” she asked, and Welker paused his forward momentum. He’d been ready to escort the normally-absentee-father out, but he’d hear what the guy had to say first.

“I…” Tom cleared his throat. “I didn’t know exactly what state you’d be in, so I came to see if you could use one of my attorneys.”

Bette, who’d been unusually quiet up until this point, finally spoke.

“To sue someone for shooting her?” she asked acerbically.

Bette hadn’t hesitated to question the prick, and Welker relished her back-up.

Moira made a choked noise and answered before her father could come up with his next, polished line.

“I don’t think that’s what he had in mind, Bette.”

But before Moira explained further, she did the polite thing. “First, Father, this is Bette Vestore, Welker’s mother. And the woman next to her is my good friend, Margaret.”

Color had moved up into her father’s face, and Welker couldn’t wait to find out why.

Bette wanted answers, too. “Then what, exactly, do your father’s attorneys have to do with anything, Moira dear?” she continued, acknowledging the introduction with a dip of her head while still skewering the man with less-than-warm and fuzzy vibes.

Moira narrowed her eyes.

“He wanted to make sure that if I was on my death bed, the powers of attorney regarding my estate would be tidily in place.”

Now Welker really was in danger of punching the guy, but Moira was still talking.

“What you don’t know, Father, is that a few years back I took you off my will as sole heir and beneficiary, and my fortune is currently slated to go to several area charities.”

The man’s face went from red to…relieved?

Odd. But clearly Moira wasn’t finished.

“Last night, however, after Welker and I became clear on what we meant to each other, making plans to move in together, I’d already decided to add him to my will first thing Monday morning. So, considering my incapacitated state,” she added, tongue in cheek, “if you’re still willing to lend me your lawyers, that would save me a trip to my attorney’s office. I’d love to have your people draft new documents leaving my estate to not only those women’s shelters and animal rescues, but to Welker, as well.”

Welker thought his eyes might pop out of his head . Say what ?

Making him…? No way . He wasn’t going to contradict Moira in front of her father, but he didn’t want her money. He’d let her know, later. The cats and dogs could have it. All he wanted was her.

Tom was speaking again, seemingly ramping down his controlling personality. “You think you’ve got things figured out, but Moira, I don’t need your money. I have more than enough of my own. I’m actually…” he cleared his throat, “a bit…meticulous these days, and don’t like…leaving things at loose ends. I really was just here to offer you…assistance if your affairs needed to be tidied. That being said, if you need my attorneys to draw up your new will, they’re yours. If you don’t want them…or me, I won’t bother you again. I only wanted to help.”

Was that true? Welker had no clue, but Margaret had clearly made up her mind.

“How about you help yourself right out of the hospital; you and your odd change of heart?” the older woman stepped up.

Tom regarded her, a natural arrogance returning to the man who was clearly always in charge. “Seriously, woman? I’m speaking to my daughter. What business is that of yours?”

Margaret straightened up to her full five-foot-nothing height. “Mr. Bliss. Does the name Henry Lattery mean anything to you?”

Tom looked taken aback, but after a second, he nodded. “Yes. He was a major stockholder and a board member in my company before he passed away, oh, ten years ago or so.”

“And what happened to Mr. Lattery’s shares upon his death?” she continued, unrelentingly.

“He, um… I don’t know. The current person who owns his shares votes via proxy, through their attorneys.”

Tom looked suitably muddled, but Margaret looked like she’d just swallowed one of Moira’s stuffed canaries.

She walked forward and stuck out her hand.

“The name’s Margaret,” she stated. “Margaret Lattery . I’m Henry’s wife, and your current largest shareholder.”

Moira stifled a laugh, but Welker let his loose.

Tom Bliss had just been checkmated.