Uncaged Love Volume 5 Read online

  The one with the brass knuckles. “Good,” I say. “What about Striker and Annie and Lani?”

  “They were picked up after Parker said they were involved. Striker’s been charged with hiring the guy. The girls and Parker are out on bail.”

  “They arrested Parker?”

  Buster leans forward in his chair, bracing his elbows on his knees. “He was part of it, apparently. He was here at the hospital when they came for him, waiting on news about you and Colt. He didn’t fight it. Just went.”

  “He saved us,” I say. “If he hadn’t come…”

  Buster sighs. “It looks bad for everybody. Big mess.”

  I feel so tired. “Have you seen Colt?”

  “I’m not family.”

  God. The Cure, Colt’s father, must be here somewhere. “His dad?”

  “I haven’t seen him. But I’m sure he’s around. Probably has lawyers all over the place.”

  “Maybe you can call Killjoy?”

  “Nate is trying to get him. He’s been up here too, snarling at everyone.” Buster gives a feeble smile. “Trying to make sure they fix you up right so you can get back in the cage.”

  I glance down at the sling. “I couldn’t move my arm before.” I wiggle my fingers.

  “Blood loss. They don’t think any damage is permanent.”

  I realize something. “How come you know about me? You’re not family either.”

  He shrugs. “I lied.”

  My eyes prick with tears then. Buster doesn’t even know my real name, but he’s playing like he’s my dad. “Thank you,” I say.

  He stands up. “Somebody’s got to step in for Jo.” He lays his meaty hand on mine.

  “Did someone tell Zero?”

  “He’s been here too. He keeps leaving these.” Buster leans over to a cabinet near the head of the bed to pick up a Styrofoam container. It’s the kind they have at the cafe where Zero works.

  “I don’t know what he puts in them, but they look kind of strange.”

  He pops open the lid. Inside are two pieces of bread with all sorts of spreads and meats and vegetables in between.

  “It’s a randomwich,” I tell Buster. “It’s our thing.”

  Buster closes the lid. “I’m sure he’ll be back with another one soon. I keep telling him you can’t eat them right now. But he brings them anyway. Probably helps. We feel helpless.”

  I look around the room. I have no idea how any of this will get paid for. I don’t have insurance. I don’t have anything. I spot a vase of flowers that look expensive.

  Buster follows my gaze. “Those are from Brittany,” he says.

  “Did she come here?”

  “No. They were delivered.”

  I figure she didn’t have anything to do with Lani or Annie. Not after what happened. Spying is one thing. And maybe even intimidating. But not a street fight. Or thugs. Not her style.

  “You should probably rest a bit,” Buster says. “I’ll be here until Nate comes. We’re taking turns.”

  My jaw aches from the effort of not crying. “You don’t have to do that.”

  Buster settles back in his chair. “Sure we do. Somebody’s got to look out for our Jo.”

  I lay back on the pillow. I have to get well. I have to get up. And I have to find a way to get to Colt. I need to look out for him.

  Chapter Three

  I’ve barely walked around the room for the first time when a man in a dark police uniform knocks on the door. Nate is here now, and his lips clamp down on the cigar with annoyance when he sees the officer.

  “She’s barely been awake two hours,” Nate bellows.

  I’m feeling panicked. The police. Of course they’d come. But I’m not Jo Jones. My ID, wherever it is, is fake. I know I got fingerprinted when I got my original driver’s license when I was sixteen. They can find out who I really am.

  I wobble a little. The nurse who is holding my arm frowns at the officer. “I don’t know if she has medical clearance for a police interview.”

  I’m hoping she can get me out of this. I don’t want to talk. The nurse leads me back to the bed to sit down. Thankfully they’ve given me two hospital gowns, one opening in the back and the other in the front, so I don’t feel so exposed. The IV is finally out of my arm.

  “You just get on out of here,” Nate says to the officer.

  The detective glances with a bit of apprehension at Nate, who, despite being on the small side, looks intimidating and mean in his trench coat. Nate has bushy gray eyebrows that would bury an ordinary face and have expressions all their own. And right now they are saying, get lost.

  “Pardon me, Miss Jones,” the detective says. “I’m Detective Case. I would just like to ask you a few questions so we can catch the men who did this to you.” He ignores Nate’s indignant snort from the chair.

  I don’t answer, but look up at the nurse. Maybe I can fake passing out.

  She’s tucking me back into the bed, her lips pressed together in a line. She’s bulky and strong. She could probably take this guy out.

  But even if I can buy some time, they’ll be back. I don’t know the lawyer Colt hired. Or if he would help me with this. I may have to talk no matter what.

  The detective walks closer to the bed and flips open an iPad case. “We just got word that there were more men,” he says. “We want to bring them in for questioning. We need your help. Until now, no one has been able to speak on your behalf.”

  And Colt still can’t. My throat closes up.

  The nurse straightens up. “You want me to call a doctor?” she asks me. “I might be able to get this postponed.”

  I look from her to Nate to the officer. Everyone is grim and serious. I don’t see what waiting another day would do, unless I plan on running. And I can’t leave Colt.

  “It’s fine,” I say. They can’t arrest me from the hospital, I don’t think. I have no choice now but to face whatever’s coming.

  The nurse frowns again, but she adjusts the angle of the bed and leaves the room.

  “Thank you,” the officer says. “Let’s start at the beginning. You were walking from a restaurant back to the gym where you work?”

  I straighten the sheet over my legs. “Yes. Lani, Striker, Annie, and Parker were waiting there.”

  “And there was an altercation.”

  “Not with Parker. He left.”

  “But with the others.”

  “Yes. Lani and Annie grabbed me first. Then Striker attacked Colt.” My heart squeezes just to say his name.

  “Then they left.”

  “Yes. But the four men came almost immediately. The timing was too perfect for them not to have been waiting.”

  Detective Case nods, jotting notes on the screen.

  I describe the four men, and the fight, and the shots. Nate leans back in his chair, trying to keep his face straight, but I can see how upset he is. When I get to Parker coming back and helping Colt, my voice just gives out.

  “I think that’s enough,” Nate says. “You got the basics. There will be a lot more.”

  The detective closes the iPad case. “We want to make sure we get these other two guys.”

  Clearly the one who shot us hasn’t squealed on his friends. Even thugs have codes. At this point, I don’t care about any of that. I just want Colt to be okay. But then, there’s still Lani and Annie.

  “What will happen to the girls?” I ask.

  “That’s for the DA to decide,” the detective says.

  “They’ll walk,” Nate grumbles. “Go scot-free for what they did.”

  “You have the option of filing charges against all of them for assault,” the detective says.

  I won’t. They’ll definitely want my name for that, and so far this guy hasn’t asked me to prove who I am. “I will think about it,” I say.

  “Thank you for your time,” Detective Case says. He sets a white business card on the side table next to Brittany’s flowers. “Call me if you need me. We’ll be in touch.”
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br />   My body feels exhausted, but my mind is racing. How can I get out of the room? I want to find my way to ICU, to see Colt.

  When the detective is gone, Nate walks around the side of the bed. He pulls the cigar from his mouth. “I know what you’re thinking, Jo. But don’t go running off right now. The Cure’s done set a guard at ICU. Been a big mess. Hospital is mad at the interference. Don’t get mixed up in it.”

  “Did you find out how he is from Killjoy?”

  “It’s pretty bad. He had several surgeries to repair his stomach, some intestine, muscle. The big problem was the blood loss, lack of oxygen, how long he was out. Parker saved him, no doubt, keeping those compressions going.”

  I picture the bullet puncturing Colt’s belly and feel sick. He seems so strong, but even he can’t deflect a gunshot.

  “Is Parker going to go to jail? Will he be able to keep fighting?”

  “I doubt he’ll see jail time. Seems like he wasn’t caught up in it as much as the others.”

  “But his career?”

  “Hard to say. Sponsors are fickle. This looks bad, fighters going after fighters.”

  I lean back against the pillows and stare at the ceiling. “I need to see Colt.”

  “Now that you’re up, I’ll get Killjoy down here,” Nate says. “He’ll see what he can do.” He picks up my hand in his grizzly beaten-up one. “Can you work with us on this?”

  I nod. I don’t want to. And I probably won’t in the end. But I’ll at least act like I will.

  Chapter Four

  Later that night I start working to convince a clearly exhausted Nate to go home and sleep. When the nurse brings me pain pills, I pretend to take them, and complain I can’t keep my eyes open.

  It takes a good half hour of pretending to sleep before Nate believes me and leaves.

  I wait another half hour before I throw the sheets aside and set my feet on the floor.

  My steps are not as solid as I would like. I want to yell at my ridiculous legs for being wobbly and weak. They have nothing to do with the silly wound in my shoulder. I refuse to let them shake. I will get to the ICU floor by sheer will.

  It’s late, and no one is in the hallway. I have no idea how secretive I should be, if I’m allowed to walk around, or if someone will force me back to the room. I decide to play it safe and stay out of sight as much as possible.

  After a turn in the corridor, I see the nurses’ station. I figure they are going to stop me, so I have to find another way. But I don’t even know where I’m going. If I can get to an elevator, surely it will tell me how to find ICU.

  I backtrack up the hall. When I pass my room again, I pop inside to look beside the door. Sure enough, there is a fire evacuation map on the wall.

  The main hallways all lead to the nurses’ desk, but if I cut through the break room and go to a side hall, I can make it to the elevator without passing the desk. I peek out the door again. Still quiet.

  I head the opposite direction until I reach the break room. A nurse is just leaving out the opposite door. I pause, then cut through. The nurse carries a cup of water into a patient’s room.

  My legs are shaking, but my adrenaline is rising. I can feel the power surging through me. I know I can count on it. It will get me where I want to go.

  This corridor is short, and a door leads me right to the hub of the hospital and the visitor elevators. I wish I had regular clothes, but I will just have to fake it.

  A custodian pushes a cart into one of the elevators, and I follow him in. The directory is posted inside. The man nods at me politely, trying not to look down at my bare legs and socks. When the door opens, I step out.

  The ICU ward is straight ahead. Visitor hours are over. A woman in bright red lipstick and a neck draped with jangly beads looks right at me when I come through.

  I decide to ignore her and see how far I get. But I only have two choices. The waiting room, or a sealed door that requires an access pass. I’ll have to talk to this woman.

  I turn back around. “I’m Colt McClure’s wife,” I say. “We were shot a couple nights ago.”

  Her eyes get big. Good. Maybe she’ll listen to me.

  “I’m here to see him.”

  The woman picks up her phone. A dozen gold bangles slide up her arm. I don’t think I could ever in my lifetime even own all the jewelry she’s wearing right now.

  “Hatty?” she says. “I’ve got a girl here saying she’s Colt McClure’s wife.” She nods as if Hatty could see her through the phone. Pendulous earrings swing from her ears. “I’ll tell her.”

  She sets the phone down. “Someone will be right with you.”

  I’m not sure what to make of this. I can’t picture someone named Hatty dragging me out of here. I’m feeling strong, the intensity of my need to see Colt driving me.

  The oversized metal door beeps and begins to open on a motorized hinge. I’m expecting another version of this woman, so when I see two hulking men in black suits, I take a step back.

  “No visitors for Colt, doctor’s orders,” one says. His voice is like thunder.

  I am not going to be intimidated by this man. I see how it is. These are the goons sent here by Colt’s father.

  “You’re not a doctor,” I say.

  The door starts to close again, so I rush forward. One of the men grabs my good arm. “I don’t want to hurt an injured lady,” he says.

  “So don’t,” I say. I’m inside. The door is closing behind me.

  “Only family in ICU,” he says. His face and his neck are all one big round lump above his suit collar.

  “You didn’t hear we got married? Just a little something to piss off his father.” I jerk my arm away. “Are the lawyers here? Because I’m about to throw a fit if I’m not let back there.”

  I start working the sling off my elbow. I can move my arm enough to matter, and I need to be nimble if I’m going to slip away from these knuckleheads.

  The other man punches a button to open the door again. I’m about to be escorted out if I don’t act.

  Damn, but these men are solid walls of muscle. Still, a concussion is a concussion. It’s all about finding the right spot.

  I shift my right leg back, deciding which one to try to sink, when the first one simply picks me up by the waist.

  “I don’t want to hurt an injured girl,” he says again.

  I start kicking with everything I’ve got, but my feet in hospital socks just bounce off the wall of his belly. What are these people made of? Concrete?

  Even a hurricane can’t bring down something that solid. Still, I know he is trying to be gentle, and I’ll use this to my advantage. I manage to snap my knee high and land a solid blow to his chin.

  He takes the blow and doesn’t even flinch. Holy crap.

  A firm female voice says, “Set her down.”

  “I’ve got orders from The Cure,” he says.

  “And he takes orders from me. Set her down.”

  The door starts closing again as the man lowers me back to the floor.

  I can’t see anything for the wall of suits, but they step aside.

  A tall graceful woman in dark silvery pants and a fitted knit jacket comes between them. “You must be Jo,” she says. “I’m Eve, Colt’s mother.”

  Chapter Five

  Colt’s mother stretches out her hand. It isn’t positioned for a greeting, to shake, but like a mom expecting her child to take it and be led.

  The hurricane has totally collapsed. I’m a little girl now, doing what she’s told. I reach out and accept her hold on me.

  This woman is beautiful and poised, like a queen. Her serene face has only the slightest lines giving away her age. She is calm and stately, completely the opposite of Colt and his father. I feel like a gangly street rat next to her.

  She leads me down the hall. Her hand is cool and gentle surrounding my hot and clammy palm.

  “I heard you got up earlier today,” she says. “I hoped to meet you tomorrow, but this will do.”
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  We pause at the end of another hallway, and she says, “Of course you should come see Colt. Don’t let my husband intimidate you. He’s just looking out for Colt’s safety.”

  “I would never hurt him,” I manage to say.

  “Of course not,” she says. “You and that fighter boy saved his life. Nothing that happened that night had anything to do with you. Striker was always a problem. Geoffrey should have taken it more seriously.”

  I’m confused a moment, then remember that The Cure has a real name. Geoffrey. “You knew?”

  “Everyone knew Striker wanted to get even with Colt.” Her forehead creases with concern. “We just had no idea it would lead to this.”

  She takes in a deep breath. “I want you to brace yourself for seeing him. He doesn’t look good. But he’s stable, and the surgeries went well. He lost a lot of blood, and there was oxygen deprivation.” She stops. “I’m sorry, you’re anxious. I have to give myself this pep talk every time I go in. Remind myself that he is strong.” She squeezes my hand. “Here we go.”

  We turn the corner, and the dimly lit room of the ICU ward is just ahead. Machines fill the spaces between the beds, some making light breathy sounds or beeping faintly. I spot Colt immediately, at the far end. I let go of Eve and hurry to him. My socks whisper on the floor.

  I can barely see his face for the tubes. His skin is ashen and cast blue from the monitor. I press the back of my knuckles to his cheek. My Colt.

  My jaw clenches with the effort of not crying. He looks so strong lying there, as always. His arms are just as beefy, his chest still wide. But he’s so still.

  My legs give out, so I kneel by his bed and clutch his hand. I can’t look at him for a moment. I need to compose myself. So, I rest my forehead on our joined fingers. If I clear my mind and concentrate only on the feeling of my face against his skin, I can almost imagine I am at his beautiful place in Santa Barbara, the fan whirring overhead and the wispy fabric blowing around the bed.

  I picture this scene until I am calm again.

  Eve comes up behind me and lays a hand on my shoulder. “He’s going to get through this.”