Page 23 of The Riders’ Reign

“Can’t exactly say I’m happy to be here either, Sheriff.” I check his hands. “What, no flowers?”

He doesn’t even quirk his lips at my attempt at humor. “You know I need to talk about the events that led up to you being here.”

“Talk all you like.”

“In your own words, can you tell us what happened?”

I shrug. “I can’t remember.”

“You can’t remember anything?”

I shake my head. “Nope. Amnesia, I think they call it. It’s quite common after someone has been through a traumatic event.”

“Okay, Jack, if you can’t remember anything, I’m sure you can at least remember if someone out there might want you dead.”

I chuckle at that. “Oh, Sheriff, I expect a lot of people want me dead.”

“Word is that you’ve had a couple of run-ins with the Revenants lately. Do you think this is their work?”

“Definitely not.”

He purses his lips. “If you can’t remember anything, how would you know?”

“Because me and Beau left on good terms. We shook on it that there wouldn’t be any more trouble between us.”

“And you believe him?” His huge, fuzzy eyebrows raise questioningly.

“Yeah, I believe him. He’s a man of his word.”

“And what was it that brought the two of you together so amicably?”

I shift my position, trying to get comfortable, and wince as a fresh stab of pain goes through me. “You know, just men with similar interests.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“You can believe whatever you want, but it’s the truth.”

I don’t need to fake the depth of my sigh or the weariness on my face. How long am I going to be laid up? No way can I spend days, or even weeks, lying around in bed. I’ll go nuts.

I hate that I haven’t seen Camile yet and instead am having to deal with this shit. Vani promised me she’d call her, and get one of the guys to come in, too. I’m used to being at the center of activity, not standing—or at least lying—on the sidelines.

“You should know you’re not the only person we’re talking to,” the sheriff continues. “I’ve sent my deputy and a couple of men to your compound to ask around about what happened.”

Fuck. That must be why I haven’t heard or seen anyone. They’ve got their hands full dealing with the fucking cops. This is the last thing we need.

We’ve normally got a handle on the local police because we’ve got a few bent cops who are on our books and are able to make things vanish when we need them to, but me being brought to the main hospital has probably fucked that.

I’m sure the guys felt like they didn’t have any choice but to bring me here. My injuries were clearly bad enough that they needed a professional surgeon, and not the retired vet we sometimes use for situations like these, or even Shelley with her medical training. It was a life-or-death situation, and they couldn’t risk someone fucking things up.

I want to get back to the compound, but there’s no way Nurse Ratched is going to let me leave.

Sheriff Busby reaches into his pocket and pulls out some printouts that have clearly been taken as stills from road cameras. He spreads them across the little table that swings across my bed.

“Recognize these?”

Yes. They’re the vehicles containing the men who shot at us.

“Should I?” I say instead.