“Why…does my chest hurt?” He could barely get the words out through the pain and the mask muffling sound.
“You were shot, good thing you’re wearing a vest,” the EMT said gently.
Titus blinked through the haze, and the truth slammed into him like another blow.
That son of a bitch Tatum had tried to kill him. That motherfucker.
Ah shit.
Tatum had taken his place. He knew it in his gut.
He tried to shove upright again, but the gurney straps and hard hands held him flat. Pain lanced through his skull, lights swimming above.
He had to get word to Viper. To Dave. To Stone.
They thought they had him safe back at the ranch.
They didn’t.
They were walking straight into a trap.
The world tilted, faces blurring, and Titus’s vision slid back into the dark.
Sometime before dawn, Dave slapped at the side table searching for his phone after it buzzed from a text.
En route. Should be there in a few hours.
“Who’s that?” Stone’s voice was growling and gravelly from sleep.
“Will, he’ll be here soon.” Dave shifted to sit on the side of the mattress.
“Where are you going?” Stone complained sleepily.
“Paperwork,” Dave whispered, leaned over, and nuzzled Stone’s neck. “I’ll be in the office downstairs.”
“Make coffee and I’ll join you.”
“Go back to sleep, you’ve got another hour at least.”
Stone didn’t argue, and Dave smiled.
Twenty minutes later found him showered, dressed in boots, jeans, and a heavy wool shirt before he made his way downstairs into the kitchen.
Cookie was already there and had started the coffee in the early hours of the morning.
Ranch life. Cookie had come from a cattle ranch down in west Texas and couldn’t seem to shake the habit of early to rise.
“Mornin’,” Dave said, taking the cup of coffee Cookie handed him.
“Mornin’, Boss,” Cookie said and handed him the heavy cream. “You’re up early as usual.”
“Can’t sleep much longer. Guess it comes with age,” Dave smirked and sipped at his creamy coffee.
“That it does,” Cookie grunted in agreement.
He dreaded the thought of his office and the mounds of paperwork he needed to file on what went down in Vegas.
Making his way out onto the front porch, he settled into one of the chairs that sat on the wide wraparound porch.
