Chapter 26

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

“Let’s get the fuck out of here, Mick,” Pidge whined. “I’m tired of smelling that dog’s farts.”

Moira seethed inside. The asshole was more worried about the noxious gas than he was about dragging her off somewhere to stage her death. Once they got outside, she’d beat the crap out of him.

Nope. She took a look at both her adversaries.

It figured. Pidge was the taller of the two gang-members, which meant Hayden would have him in her sights, and Moira would be dealing with Mick. Moira could only hope Hayden would be aiming at a sensitive spot on Pidge. The guy needed to writhe in some well-deserved agony.

Mick gave Pidge an annoyed look. “Shut the fuck up and stop whining,” he said, then grabbing Moira’s arm, he tipped his head toward the door. “Get moving,” he told her. “And remember, if you try to run, I’ve got a gun pointed straight at your back.”

He let her go and stepped back.

“Oh really?” Moira taunted, unable to help herself. “And how’s that going to work out for you. If they find my body full of holes, Gladstone’s strategy will be blown all to hell, and he won’t be happy.”

“Fine,” Mick replied with a sneer. “I can deal with you another way. You want to know how?”

“Do I have a choice?” she muttered.

Mick swaggered forward, and without warning, reared back and punched Moira square in the chin.

“You got that?” he glowered. “Cross me, bitch, and I’ll knock you out. Painfully. Because bruises won’t prove anything to anybody who’s looking, since you’ll have way more than that from your fall at the falls.” He laughed at his own play on words.

Moira grimaced and flexed her jaw.

What a prick.

Luckily, she’d seen his fist coming and had rolled with the hit. But damn… The blow, when it had landed, had radiated all the way down to her shoulder, and up to her brain.

Moira held in her snarl. The man would pay.

“Now move,” Mick barked, then addressed his minion. “Pidge, you follow, and if she tries anything, tackle her.”

Great. Just what she needed. Pidge’s fat ass bringing her to the ground while Hayden attempted to take aim.

For that reason only, Moira would behave herself. For now.

She was fully aware that she needed to play this just right to come out of it without jeopardy.

Going back into planning mode, Moira knew she couldn’t make her move until she heard the report of Hayden’s rifle. If she acted too soon, she’d lose the element of surprise. Too late, and Mick would have time to pull something out of his ass to keep himself safe.

But right now…

Hah. She could use Mick’s aggressive behavior against him.

Pretending to be dazed from his hit would have him unconcerned that she’d raise any fuss. Wouldn’t he be surprised when she eventually turned the tables and nailed his ass.

Moira walked a few steps toward the door, making a big show of staggering before eventually stopping, falling back into the douche-bag where he’d followed.

“Hey,” he growled, grabbing arm and hauling her off him. “Walk.”

“I’m…dizzy,” Moira groaned, and leaned back into Mick again, pretending to be disoriented.

“Fucking cunt,” he grumbled, grasping her shoulder and leading her to the door. He was making plans with Pidge.

“We’ll be taking her truck,” Mick informed his partner. “But I’m driving.”

Another dumb-ass move.

If he somehow manages to get her to the falls, and she did die there, when SWAT did their own investigation—which they would, invited or not—Mick’s fingerprints would be all over her steering wheel. That alone would most certainly implicate the clueless dick.

Mick opened the door.

This is it.

Moira calmed herself, knowing she’d probably have only one chance to take the big ape down. If her timing was wrong, if she hesitated, if she lost the element of surprise, Mick might be able to get the upper hand and manage to bundle her into the truck. Her only consolation if that happened, was that Hayden and Boone would be right behind them, and there’d be a second chance to get clear once they reached the falls.

If everything went sideways, however, and she didn’t survive, there was one bit of heartening luck. The recording apparatus she wore was water proof. So as long as the good guys retrieved her body, Gladstone would still be going away.

“Move it,” Mick shouted at her, shaking her as she hesitated.

Moira jerked out of his hold and raised her head high as she knew he’d expect. “I’m fine now. I can do it myself.”

Her move was purposeful. She’d need a few inches between them when the appropriate time came, to be able to break the zip-ties before beating on his ass. Still, Moira wanted the jerk to underestimate her, so she walked slowly and hesitantly forward, like it was taking a great amount of concentration to stay upright.

Pidge scooted around them and opened the door, looking her up and down as she passed by before emerging out onto the steps.

Mick followed, no more than two feet behind her as she carefully walked down and onto the flagstone pathway. Pidge closed the door behind them and took up the rear, snickering. “You know, boss, this bitch has always seemed kinda…manly before, but she’s looking pretty good these days. Maybe we should have a little fun with her before we bump her off.”

Mick turned. “Don’t be?—"

A shot sounded.

Moira immediately bent and snapped her bonds over one knee, then whirled around. Without a second’s hesitation, she launched herself at a stunned Mick, who hadn’t quite wrapped his head around the fact that Pidge was writhing on the ground in pain, squealing.

Moira’s full body strike hit Mick square in his shooting arm, and yes ! His gun went flying.

“Fucking bitch,” he thundered.

Moira backed off, moving confidently into a battle-ready position.

Just like on the mats , she told herself. Stay low, stay cool, and win this one.

Of course, she hadn’t used her body for anything more than cooking goulash and filling bird-feeders for the past three weeks, but her muscle memory was still there. And she knew from her extensive training that winning wasn’t always about strength. The victor was often determined by who was more strategic; who kept a more level head.

If she could get him rattled…

“Surprised, Mick?” Moira taunted, circling. “You thought I was going to play helpless?”

“You will when I’m finished with you,” Mick snapped.

“Seriously? You believed all my back-up was far, far away?”

Mick’s face reddened with outrage. It was just the out-of-control response she was looking for.

He sputtered angrily, taking a few imprudent steps toward her. “You may have a sniper, but they’re not right here to help you. And I’m going to kill you with my bare hands. There’s no way?—"

“Need any help taking out the trash?”

A Texas drawl cut through the air as Boone prowled dangerously from the cover of trees where he’d been hidden.

Mick’s attention turned incredulously toward the newcomer, and that’s all Moira needed. She attacked.

A kick to the back of his knee had Mick going to the ground, but he was tenacious, and when Moira didn’t move away quite fast enough. Mick grabbed her ankle, tumbling her down on top of him. She hit hard on her ribcage, and the instant pain had her almost seeing stars, but she wasn’t about to let the asshole see her weakness, nor get the upper hand.

Before Mick could figure out his next move, Moira reared up to her knees, straddling his prone body and pummeling his face with a series of rapid blows.

One to the nose. Crunch. An intense strike to both ears that had the man howling, then both thumbs honed in, aiming for his eyeballs.

Mick, however, wasn’t done yet. He managed to grab her hands and keep her from connecting, then used all his strength to tip her to one side and off his body.

Once again, Moira landed on her bad ribs, and this time the sharp pain that ensued had her gasping for breath.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Had she separated her muscle wall again?

Mick let her wrists go as he gained the upper position. He sneered as his fist cocked back and blood dripped down onto Moira’s face from his busted nose. Moira wanted to move, to retaliate, but she was too busy trying to drag air into her lungs to dodge the blow she knew was coming.

She braced, and…

Mick’s weight was suddenly lifted from her.

Moira blinked up to see that Boone had collared the man, who was easily five inches shorter than him, and was proceeding to shake him around like a dog with a toy. Now that was a bitch… Not .

Finding Hayden suddenly in her peripheral vision, Moira wondered if she’d arrived to help Boone, but the ballsy woman simply grinned and saluted her husband, then circled around the pair to poke her toe into a still yowling Pidge’s hip, making sure he was no longer a problem.

Once Hayden had determined he was incapacitated for the duration, she hurried over to Moira’s side and dropped down.

“Are you okay?” she asked, a worried look on her face that was apparent by the crease between her brows. “I’m seeing blood.”

“I…” Moira wasn’t exactly able to speak. She held up a wobbly finger, letting Hayden know she needed a few seconds, then she ordered her body to relax.

It’s okay, Moira , she told herself. The danger had passed .

Right. At least the threat from Mick and Pidge. Now all she had to do was determine if she was headed back to surgery.

Suck it up.

Moira placed a hand on her own chest and slowly inhaled.

Come on. Come on …

Hell, yes ! Her chest inflated as it should. If Moira ever managed to get up off the ground, she might just do a fist-pump.

She gradually let out her breath. As the air passed through her pursed lips, her chest reacted appropriately again as it contracted. Awesome news, but it was still painful as all get-out.

Maybe if she could just get her body to move…

“Stay put,” Hayden told her, laying a comforting hand on Moira’s shoulder. “I’m calling for an ambulance.”

“No.” Moira grabbed Hayden’s arm. “Blood’s not…mine. Wait for…team,” she managed. “I… Proof. Sheriff’s dirty. Can’t let him hear you call…” she trailed off.

There was no way, Moira growled to herself, that after making sure she had Gladstone gift-wrapped and tied, she was going to miss finishing him off with the biggest-assed bow she could conjure. If he heard the code three for an officer down at this location, he’d know exactly what that meant, and he’d be here, ASAP. And if he got his grubby mitts on her—not to mention getting a load of Mick and Pidge’s compromised positions—he’d no doubt manage to spin things exactly the way he wanted. The next thing anybody knew—with his word as law—Hayden and Boone would be in jail, and Moira would be on her way to the morgue.

“You mean to say you got the recording you needed?” Hayden asked with a satisfied glint in her eyes.

“Did,” Moira nodded. “And…I’m okay,” Moira went on to assure her. “Mick…?”

Hayden gave a huge grin. “Not to worry. Boone’s got him under control.” She winked in the direction of her husband. “I do love me a fine cowboy.” Hayden gazed down at Moira, concern filling her face again. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay to wait until your team gets here?”

Moira was breathing easier with every minute that passed.

“Yeah. This is nothing like last time.” Her words came out stronger as she dragged in a slightly deeper lungful. “If you could just help me get this vest off…”

Moira wanted the recording in Hayden’s hands, just in case—by the remotest chance—someone had heard the gun-shot and reported it, which in turn would trigger the arrival of the sheriff. The last thing Moira wanted was him finding and destroying the hard-earned evidence.

“Nope.” Hayden shook her head, remorsefully. “I heard all about your previous injury from Alvero, and how keeping pressure on the affected area probably saved your life. So, just in case things have gone a little wonky with your chest wall, I’m erring on the side of caution and we’re leaving your vest on. Consider it a big band-aid,” she quipped, trying to lighten up her refusal.

“Don’t let Gladstone get the tape.” Moira patted her chest.

“I’ll shoot him if I have to,” Hayden responded perkily. “Now , will you promise me you’ll stay put?”

“Don’t shoot the sheriff,” Moira snorted. “Maybe just the deputy.”

Okay. So maybe her brain wasn’t one-hundred percent on-line if she was badly quoting song lyrics.

Hayden laughed, momentarily forgetting the vow she’d attempted to extract from Moira. “Okay. You’re making jokes, which must mean you’ll be okay for a few minutes while I head over there and make sure the guy I shot doesn’t bleed out.” She pointed to where Pidge lay, several yards away.

“Go,” Moira said, internally cheering at the loss of a babysitter. In her head, she still worried about Margaret, and knew the woman would only come out for her. So…

Once Hayden became absorbed, Moira gingerly moved each limb of her body with…no adverse effects.

So far, so good.

She lifted her head.

Other than it pounding from the fist Mick had sent her way, that, too, wasn’t terribly painful.

Moira then dared roll her body gently to the right; her good side, and…nothing felt increasingly aggravated.

Bolstered by that, Moira propped her elbows underneath her and slowly lifted. Very slowly.

Yeah . Shit hurt, but it wasn’t any where near the level of agony she’d experienced before. Moira took that as a positive sign. Now if she could just…

“What are ya’ll doing?” Boone’s wry drawl interrupted Moira’s focus.

Dammit. Caught. She sighed. There was no need for subterfuge, now.

“I’m getting up so I can tell Margaret it’s safe to come out.”

Employing one finger under the brim of his cowboy hat, Boone tipped it back. “Darlin’, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” he told her. He raised his voice to Hayden where she was working on Pidge. “Sweetness? Didja hear that? What do you think?”

Hayden snorted, clearly having listened to the exchange. “I think she’s too much like me to take no for an answer.”

Hayden stood then, her shirt missing its hem. Clearly, she’d used the material as a torniquet to slow Pidge’s bleeding.

Where had she hit the man, anyway?

As if hearing her question, Hayden filled her in. “I shot him in the upper thigh, just a few centimeters from his groin,” she informed Moira. “I figured that would slow him down.”

Moira tried not to laugh, not only because it was a little rude, but she figured the jostling might hurt her ribs. Still, she had to speak her mind. “The way he’s crying, it sounds like you shot him in the dick.”

Hayden responded with a straight face, but Moira could see her cheek twitching with humor. “That would have been next. If he’d shaken off my first shot, his little man-parts were second in my sights.”

Pidge wailed even louder at that, and now Moira let out a small chuckle.

Low and behold, it didn’t feel too bad.

“Okay you two. Stop messing with the man’s head. Honey-bun, are we going to let Moira up, or not?” Boone questioned, bringing the conversation back around.

Hayden pondered for a second. “Not that I don’t think you’re a bad-ass and fully capable, Moira, but here’s the deal. If you let my husband pick you up and carry you out back, I’ll concede. I don’t want Welker to lose his shit that we didn’t take care of you.”

Moira didn’t hesitate. It sounded like a great idea, getting lugged, and far better than face-planting, which might easily be the outcome if she tried to make it out back under her own steam.

“Hell yes,” she replied.

Boone came forward, bent over, and gently lifted her like she was made entirely of fluff. It struck Moira as pretty funny, her new position, and she couldn’t help her sassy side from coming out.

“Yeehaw, Boone! Giddyap.”

They left Hayden laughing like a hyena on the front lawn.