Chapter 27

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The first thing Welker saw when he pulled to a sharp stop in front of Margaret’s house, were the bodies. Two of them down, with Hayden pacing between them.

He threw open his door.

“Where’s Moira?”

He was imagining the worst. She’d been hurt…or kidnapped. She’d been taken to the hospital by ambulance, on death’s door. He rushed to Hayden’s side.

The deputy gave him a huge, reassuring smile.

“Chill, Welk. She’s out back with Boone, getting Margaret out of hiding.”

Welker felt his whole body go loose. Moira was fine. She hadn’t been?—

“She, uh, might have had a little tussle with Mick beforehand, however,” Hayden warned. “She’s not exactly walking under her own steam yet.”

When Welker took a step toward the back yard, Hayden stopped him with a quick hand to his arm. “She’s fine, Welk. Her breathing is normal. She’s just a little banged up, and Boone’s got her. We insisted she use my husband for transport until she could get checked out, because when I wanted to call immediately for an ambulance, Moira was equally as insistent that we wait for your team to show up. She was afraid the call might be heard by the sheriff, and he’d try to come in and take over.”

His smart woman , Welker thought. But what if her injuries had been life threatening? What then?

Hayden must have seen where his thoughts had taken him. “Uh, uh. There’s no need to borrow trouble. So far, so good. And I’m assuming Alvero is on his way and will assess Moira’s condition.”

Yup. Alvi would be on scene within minutes. Welker nodded.

“Great, but we’re not completely out of this, yet. Mason is going to have to use all his persuasive skills to keep the evidence Moira gathered to himself until we have everything else we need to go in and arrest Gladstone and company.”

Welker blinked. “Moira was able to get Mick to talk?” he asked, glancing over at the presumptive head of the 227 MC who was currently… hog-tied and gagged with some kind of jute rope ? Welker couldn’t wait to hear all about that one.

“So she says,” Hayden answered. “I haven’t heard what she actually got.”

“If Moira says she has what she needs, she does,” Welker stated succinctly, but he was finished talking. He needed to see his woman with his own eyes.

He began jogging toward the side of the house, but before he turned the corner, the trio appeared; Margaret, walking spryly, and Boone with Moira cradled in his arms. A possessive growl attempted to escape from Welker’s throat at the sight, but he swallowed it down. Boone was not just happily married, for God’s sake, he was ecstatically married, and Welker knew, full-well, that Boone was just making sure Moira didn’t overdo before she got checked over.

“Moira,” Welker called out, running the rest of the way toward the small group.

His woman turned the biggest, brightest smile in his direction, and he couldn’t help the sappy look he sent back. Once he was close enough, Boone, gently and without argument, transferred Moira into Welker’s arms.

He wanted to kiss the hell out of her, but…

“What’s that bruise on your jaw?” he growled instead.

“A little gift from Mick,” Moira chuckled. “But don’t worry. I broke his nose, so we’re even.”

He was somewhat assuaged.

“And the blood?” he continued, reaching out gently with his thumb to wipe it away.

“Mick’s.”

Welker quickly rubbed his offended digit on his pants.

“He dripped on me while we were, uh, engaged.”

Which meant, even in her less-than-optimal state, she’d battled the cretin.

Welker was pissed, but also damned proud. Still, he wasn’t going to let Moira take any more risks. At least until she was given the all clear by her surgeon. He was overprotective, but not stupid. If he tried to keep her down after that, he might find himself missing a few vital organs.

“My warrior,” he finally said, unable to keep from bending and nuzzling the top of her head.

Moira pouted. “Seriously? I was hoping for a kiss.”

“I’ll give you so many once you’re unbruised, that you’ll?—”

Moira reached up, grabbed two handfuls of his hair, and yanked him down, slamming her lips onto his.

Welker groaned…or was that Moira?

He dragged his lips up. “I don’t want to hurt?—”

She pulled the move for a second time, and Welker gave up. He was so starved for her, there was no way he was going to fight her pull, again.

He didn’t know how long they kissed, but a throat clearing behind him had him dazedly raising his head.

“Hey, Welk, you want me to check her out?” Alvero smirked. “Or have you got it all handled .” He gazed pointedly at Welker’s hand that had slid to cup… ah, crap , Moira’s fine ass, and the man chuckled.

“Funny, Alvi.” Welk looked right behind the team medic and saw Mason, also trying to battle a grin.

Welker regrouped, ignoring the pair and with Moira still in his arms—sans the ass-cupping—he walked toward Mason’s SUV—tailgate open—where he could lay Moira down. “You coming or not?” he called over his shoulder to the smirking pair.

Moira giggled. “That’s my man,” she said. “Give ‘em hell.”

Welker felt his chest swell.

“If I have my way, I’ll always be your man,” he answered. “Now be good for a few minutes and let Alvi look you over.”

Moira rolled her eyes, but nodded. “I need to get this vest off, anyway,” she told him. “Mason needs to hear what I recorded.”

“Hayden filled me in that you got Mick to talk. Great job.”

Moira smiled, and like the blooming of a flower, it was sweet and resplendent. Welker wanted nothing more than to draw the pretty picture in, but duty called.

Gently, he set her on the tailgate, and could immediately see by her tentative landing that she was in some pain, but her face wasn’t devoid of color like the first time she’d been injured, and as far as Welk could ascertain, Moira was breathing properly, but her vest might be masking some of her symptoms, so…

“Let’s see what we’ve got,” Alvero stated perkily, his stethoscope now looped over his neck. “Welk, you want to help me ease her gear off?”

Welker nodded, and between the two of them, they seemed to divest her of her Kevlar without causing her too much distress, other than a wince or two.

“I didn’t feel a thing when I put it on,” she grumbled.

“You hadn’t been in a fist fight with a Mick -Truck then, either,” Alvi snorted.

“Smart-ass,” Moira scolded, then her attention turned to a spot across the lawn. “Chief?” Moira yelled for Mason’s attention. The boss had been waylaid, watching Mike handcuffing Pidge and reading the injured prick his rights before the ambulance arrived.

Welker’s eyes turned to the other man on the ground.

Nobody had yet bothered to deal with Mick. Instead, he’d become a source of amusement, as team members stood around him attempting to say the most rodeo-like things they could come up with, all while Boone stood by and laughed his ass off.

“Yeah, Moira?” Mason turned his attention to her and jogged over.

“I have a recording for you,” she said, as Alvi poked, prodded, and listened to her lungs.

The boss raised a brow.

“A good one?” he asked.

“Mm, hmm,” Moira said, slapping at Alvero’s hands as he felt around under her armpit. “Ticklish there, man. Just warning you so I don’t accidently throw a punch.”

“Noted.” Alvero smartly moved on to new territory.

Moira answered Mason. “Mick was very forthcoming about who was in charge of everything. I think you’ll find enough evidence here,” she tapped the wire running from her chest to her belt, “along with what Tex is digging up, to put the heretofore esteemed Gladstone behind bars.”

“Best news I’ve had all day,” Mason returned, helping Moira divest herself of her listening device. “In case you missed it, we had a shit morning, chasing down a non-existent robbery.”

“So I heard. You know that diversion took some thought. It wasn’t that sorry steer over there who orchestrated things.”

“We figured,” Mason returned. “It had to be Gladstone.

Moira nodded. “The sheriff’s not in it alone, boss. Murphy, the new guy, is a member of the 227 MC. Gladstone hired him to take my place in Bar Harbor once they got me out of the way, but oddly, Pickenstahl isn’t dirty. He’s just a dick.”

“That’s too bad,” Mason chuckled. “I can’t stand the guy. But we can’t always get everything we wish for.”

Welker snorted, holding Moira’s hand while Alvero continued his exam. When the medic was finished, he straightened up with a smile.

“Well?” Welker asked.

“In my opinion, she’s good,” Alvi apprised them. “But I still want her surgeon to check her out and give her the all clear. So that means another ambulance ri?—”

“Nope,” Moira cut in, easing herself off the tailgate. She looked pretty solid on her feet, so Welker held his tongue. “I’ll go, but Welk can drive me. I’ll call the doc on the way, and let him know I’m coming in.”

Alvero looked as if he were about to disagree, but Welker shook his head. With Moira, it was better to take the inch she’d conceded, rather than risk it all by arguing.

Sirens sounded in the distance, but the ride would be for Pidge, alone.

“You ready to—?” Welker noticed Margaret trotting over. She’d been in a lively discussion with Sin, but clearly had something to say to Moira before she and Welk took off.

“How are you feeling, dear?” she asked Moira, reaching up to lay a papery hand on Moira’s face.

“I’ve been worse,” Moira responded with a huge yawn. “But my head is coming off, and I feel like I could sleep for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”

Huh. It seemed like Margaret was able to get the truth out of Moira

“You do that,” the older woman nodded. “But when you’re feeling better, Sin and I have talked it over, and we’re going to throw a nice, big party in your honor.”

“For what?” Moira asked, blinking.

It occurred to Welker, at that very moment, that nobody had ever thrown a bash just for Moira. And that was just sad.

Margaret didn’t hesitate. “To celebrate your big bust, of course.”

Welker and all the officers surrounding Moira laughed, with Moira also trying to hide her giggle, and her impulse to…fluff. It was pretty hilarious, hearing the nonagenarian use the slang term for arrest, which also meant boobs.

But Margaret wasn’t finished. “…as well as to honor your promotion within the sheriff’s department.” She squared her shoulders. “I’m sure that once Gladstone’s position becomes vacant, you will easily become the next Sheriff in charge.”

Welker agreed with the sentiment behind Margaret’s proclamation, but considering the current hierarchy in the department, Pickenstahl would most likely be elevated to Sheriff. That, however, didn’t mean Moira couldn’t take Pickenstahl’s position as Under-Sheriff…

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Margaret,” Moira said as Welker quirked his head toward his truck and they began walking in that direction. “But right now, I’m not ready to think about anything except getting my health cleared at the hospital so I can go home and crash.”

“Understood, dear,” Margaret nodded sagely. “And don’t worry about a thing. Lady Guinevere and I will be by to visit you tomorrow to make sure you’re comfortable and have plenty of things to eat.”

Welker silently gagged. Not about the food, though. This was all about Lady Guinevere. The last time Margaret had brought her dog to the house, the smell had remained inside for several hours after they’d left, despite opening all windows and employing all the fans.

But Moira beamed like it was the best news, ever. “I’m holding you to that,” she said without even a hint of a wrinkled-up nose.

Yup. Moira was a better person than he.

Three hours later, Welker practically carried Moira in through his front door as she leaned heavily against him. She was beyond exhausted from the morning’s activities, as well as from all the poking and prodding she’d undergone at the hospital. The good news? She’d not only been cleared of any additional damage to her chest wall, they’d iced her jaw, and cleaned the balance of Mick’s blood off her face.

Now it was Welker’s turn to take charge. “I want you to drink some water, then I’ll tuck you in and let you sleep for the rest of the day.”

Moira, half asleep, only nodded, which, in itself, told of her fatigue.

Welker steered her into the kitchen where she downed a full glass, then without asking, he scooped Moira up in his arms and carried her up to bed.

“My hero,” she said drowsily, patting his face as he stripped off her clothes, then tucked her in.

“I don’t know about hero,” Welker demurred. “You, Hayden, and Boone seemed to have everything wrapped up…or should I say tied up, by the time we got there,” he teased.

Moira snickered half-heartedly. “I mean…for everything else you do. I…” Tears filled her eyes. “I don’t know what I would have done if I’d had to deal with all this shit on my own. You make life…easier.”

Welker bent and kissed the top of Moira’s head as her eyes closed. “And I love you so much, I’ll continue to do that for the rest of our days,” he promised.

Maura must have heard him, because as her breathing evened out, a smile graced her beautiful lips.