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"Harry, Thomas, I'm giving the responsibility of Michael to you. Get him bagged and loaded with some damn respect. He's one of ours, and how he's taken care of after death will be a damn sight better than how he died." Atticus sounded like he was chewing rocks. "Take him home, boys."
There was no audible response to that, but Jasper hadn't expected one. Tending to the dead required a certain level of inner strength. Taking care of a body that was mangled, a body that had been murdered and belonged to a friend, a colleague...he didn't envy the two men chosen for that monumental task.
"Zach, Paul, I need you to bag the other body and toss it in the trunk of Christophe's truck. It does not ride with Michael. When that's done, get the cars loaded onto the transporter and back to the garage. I want the car documented, searched, and destroyed. Jasper's truck is to be washed and any damage repaired like it's a brand-new fucking SUV. He can decide what he wants to do with it at a later date."
"No problem." Another strange voice. How many men did Atticus have at his disposal?
"The diversion signs we've put in place aren't a guarantee we've got time to waste. Some nosy fucker could ignore them and drive straight into us, so work quickly. As soon as the scene's clear, the sweepers will move in and get the blood cleaned up. Anarchy is being taken care of. I've got Jessica and Ariel five minutes out in the rig. They'll get Jasper to the hospital with a reason for his injuries."
"No hospital," Jasper grunted.
"Shut up, J. If anyone thinks of anything we haven't covered, hit me up. For now, you all have assignments, so get to fucking work and let's make sure we don't leave a fucking trace of this clusterfuck."
Oh, the big guy was pissed. Three F-bombs in one sentence was indicative of his friend's mood.
Jasper opened his eyes again as feet pounded asphalt. Many hands made light work, and Atticus had obviously dragged out a large portion of his loyal staff to deal with the mess. Someone had covered him with a blanket, warming him even though he hadn't realized he was cold.
Atticus dropped to a knee beside him. "The girls are on their way, J. They'll take care of you. Have you got any feeling back yet?"
Slowly. Jasper guessed that he had bruising on the spine. Enough of a disruption in his spinal column to temporarily paralyze him. If the contusion swelled, he could be in trouble, but from the way his fingers and toes were responding, he'd just be out of commission for anything from a few days to a couple of months. "Bit by bit. I'll be fine. Anarchy?"
A mask slipped over Atticus's face. "I sent her home with Braun. I told him not to come, not to leave Bodie, but he insisted. Thought we might need some help." He sighed. "Too late for that. She's in shock. What she did...hell, I've been in this line of work for years and taking a life never gets any easier. Innocent or not. Archie killed a bad guy, but it's going to stay with her. We both know how that is, how it affects...everything."
God, did he. His first kill had shredded him down to the soul. The act had eaten away at him, guilt seeping from his pores, while Dominic lavished praise on him and dissected the murder point by point for teaching purposes. "She might never get over this, Att."
"No, she might not." He reached down and grasped Jasper's limp hand. Squeezed it hard enough Jasper could feel the pressure of his grip. "Connie will know what to do. She'll take care of her while we clean this up and you get the treatment you need. I know what needs to be done for the rest of it."
"Dominic," Jasper murmured bitterly.
"Yeah. It'll be done by the weekend. Once he and his wife are dead, we'll work on erasing his legacy."
He wanted to be there when the axe finally fell. Closure was a gift best received in person. But Atticus would do a thorough job, and that would have to be enough. "Make sure he suffers, Atticus. Let him watch the fucking empire he's built burn to the ground before you gut the fucker."
"You got it, brother. I'll tell him he shouldn't have messed with Jasper Fairfax or his girl."
Goddamn it, he couldn't keep his eyes open. Delayed shock was a bitch. "Yeah, that'll piss him off. Thanks."
"Always got your back, J. I think your ride's here."
As more voices joined the fray and blue lights swirled and danced, Jasper drifted, and hoped Anarchy could make it through the night in peace.
*
What the fuck. Oh fuck. Scream.
What the fuck. Oh fuck. Scream.
Scream. Scream. Scream.
She was numb from the hair follicles down. Though she heard familiar voices and saw familiar faces, she wasn't hearingthem. Wasn't seeingthem. She was trapped in a foggy loop of scream, bang, bump-bumpas the mantra of What the fuck. Oh fuck. Screamplayed in her head.
Someone had put her in a warm bath. She couldn't remember who. There was a vague recollection of Atticus in among the chaos, but after that, she was blank. Stretched out in the tub, an arm supported her neck as a soft, soothing voice murmured to her. Staring at the ceiling, she was sat in Jasper's truck, the steering wheel vibrating under her hands, bearing down on a killer.
Becoming a murderer.
Deep down, she knew the man whose life she'd stolen deserved a gruesome end. Or maybe she was just trying to justify the action. She'd killed a man to defend the love of her life, and she'd do it again. Even with the weight of guilt forcing her into the ground, Archie couldn't deny she would do it again to save Jasper's life.
"Once you're warmed up, we're going to get you into bed, sweetheart. I've got a gentle sedative to help you sleep, and I'll stay with you the whole time. You've carved out a hard path for yourself, but we're right here with you." A warm, damp cloth wiped gently over Archie's face. "You did an incredibly brave thing, Anarchy. It's going to come with a price, but we're going to get you through it."
