“I’ll fucking kill you so dead you’ll wish you were already DOA.” My next punch beat him so hard on the chin his neck snapped back.
His arms flailed.
Someone behind him helpfully set him upright in front of me again.
I pulled the pistol from the back of my jeans, twisting D into a sleeper hold. Locking him against me with an arm cranked around his neck, I pointed the Heckler against his head with unwavering aim.
“You. Hurt. Shy.” Blinded by the possibility he might’ve raped her, I so badly wanted to plow a bullet into his brain.
His voice went soprano-level. “Just wanted the money, man.”
“Yeah?” I bashed the butt of the gun against his cheek.
That crunch of metal against bone?
What a great fucking sound.
I wanted more.
“Now you’re getting nothing but time.” I growled.
I was tempted to shoot him. So, so tempted.
A hard hand curled around mine as I started squeezing the trigger.
“Shy needs you, man!” Boomer urged me back, pulling my hand off the gun, my arms off of Diablo.
His eyes wild, D bent over from the waist, his back heaving as he fought for breath.
“Where is she?” Glancing at Boomer, I gulped down the rising emotions.
Hope and horror clashing inside me.
“Tail’s got her.” He looked back at Diablo who really wasn’t beat up enough for my liking.
Cracking his knuckles, Boomer asked, “You mind if I?”
I’d gotten to be a big motherfucker of a dude. But Boomer Steele? He was muscle-bound bad, a full six-foot-five inches of concentrated vengeance.
“Be my guest.” I snarled at D who was about to meet his second-worst nightmare.
Bloody flesh-on-flesh style.
Boomer smiled. And it was pure evil.
He snaked a huge hand around D’s throat and squeezed. And squeezed. And squeezed.
When the blow came from Boomer’s other fist, Diablo’s eyes spun back until the whites showed and his eye sockets bulged and his breath scraped from the twice-broken nose.
“You go after one of our women again and I’ll start with maiming you, if Handsome doesn’t murder you first.” Boomer laid it on again, that time with a right hook to the head. “Actually, I’ll still fuckin’ maim you, you worthless excuse for a human shitstain.”
I left him standing over the collapsed cunt-bag, hurrying to Shy, my heart beating so fucking hard it almost knocked out of my chest.
I pushed through Cole and Tucker, opening my arms as soon as I saw Tail with Shy.
He placed her gently into my arms.
Fucking tears shined in my eyes.
I held one palm over her chest.
I looked her over, breath rasping from my lungs.
“She’s not conscious?”
“She’s stable we think.” Tucker peered at me, his eyes troubled.
“Injuries?”
“We . . . uh . . . didn’t take a good look in case they’d—” Cole stopped, swallowing hard.
“Could be police evidence, brother.” Tail stared down at Shy.
In case she’d been raped. I hoped to hell Diablo had been lying about that.
My breath knocked out of me. I pulled her tighter against my chest.
Curling over Shy, I looked up at the guys. “Now we call Hunter.”
“Already on it,” Cole answered.
Tail stood beside me until the police arrived. Might not have been MPPD’s jurisdiction, but somehow Hunter was first on scene.
He took quick statements from Tuck, Boomer, and Cole while Shy was put into an ambulance.
Diablo—still breathing—and the fuckface Tail had beaten into goo were cuffed and taken into custody along with several others.
Me?
I sat inside the rig, my hand clasped around Shy’s when the doors were shut, and we rushed en route to Roper.
“She’s an amputee?” The male medic asked.
“She has osteosarcoma.”
He nodded, efficiently taking her pulse. “Allergies to medicine?”
“None.”
“Do you know her blood—”
“Her blood type is B negative. She’s not on chemo anymore. Her name is Shiloh Lockhart, and please don’t refer to her as the patient.”
“Sorry, sir.” The female paramedic slipped an oxygen mask over Shy’s face.
“And we want a rape”—I laid my forehead against Shy’s hand then glanced up. I cleared my throat—“a rape kit.”
Chapter Thirty
Breakdown
I’D SWITCHED GEARS THE instant Tail had placed Shy into my arms. She was the only thing that mattered.
Not Diablo.
That scumfuck.
In the ambulance, I held onto Shy’s limp hand, watching as the paramedics worked over her. I answered every question they shot at me, because this time I had all Shy’s info stored in my brain.
They checked her blood pressure.
Took her temperature.
Monitored her heart rate.
She hadn’t suffered from any broken bones, but the gashes on her right leg were pretty severe, her hands were all cut up, and her stump? I winced as they started cleaning up the swollen bloody mess.
The rape kit had to wait until we reached the hospital, and it would ultimately be Shy’s decision whether to use any possible evidence collected from it.
I swallowed down a mouthful of stinging vomit when the medics informed me of that policy.