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I kept my eyes on the vehicle as I reached for my gun, which was sitting on the passenger seat. I was out of my truck a second later. I practically ran around the back of Lucky’s car in the hopes of getting a bead on anyone inside it. But I couldn’t see anyone.
“Where is he?” I barked at Lucky who stood frozen by the driver’s side of the car. “Lucky, where is he?” I called again.
This time, Lucky jumped.
“Zach,” he said softly. He looked shell-shocked. His eyes fell to the gun in my hand.
“Where is he?” I asked again, this time dropping my voice and stepping closer to him. “Where’s Davis?”
He shook his head. “Don’t know.”
I couldn’t make sense of Lucky’s reaction. He was clearly upset but there was no anger or fear. I opened my mouth to ask him what was going on when a splash of color caught my attention. I glanced to my right and felt my breath catch in my lungs when I saw bright red standing out against the stark gray of the car’s paint.
I stepped around Lucky and to the front of the car to get a better look. I could tell the red color was from spray paint but it took me a moment to understand what I was seeing.
Then I was the one seeing red. “Lucky, who did this?” I asked, ignoring the pain that began to explode in my head as my heart rate went through the roof.
Lucky stood there, frozen.
“Lucky!” I practically yelled as I grabbed his arm.
“I—I don’t know!” he responded. His voice dropped several notches. “It was… it was just notes before. I thought someone was just messing around with me.”
I looked back at the car and realized that in addition to the ugly word that had been spray-painted on the hood, both headlights had been broken.
“What notes?” I asked even as my vision began to dim. “What notes, Lucky?”
That was as much as I got out before the nausea hit me fast and hard. I closed my eyes but it was too late. Starbursts of light began to flash behind my lids and I lost my balance.
“Zach?”
Lucky’s panicked voice was a terrible thing to hear. I tried to tell him I was fine, but I couldn’t hold back the bile that crawled up my throat. Humiliation tore through me along with the agonizing pain in my head as I began retching right there in front of Lucky’s car.
“Zach, hang on, I’ll dial 911,” Lucky called. I could feel his warm hand settle on the back of my neck. I managed to shake my head.
“Migraine,” I managed to say. “Pills… pills in my truck.” I didn’t even consider trying to get through the pain without the medication. It was a crutch I’d happily lean on at that point.
“I’ll get them,” Lucky said quickly, though this time he kept his voice down. I braced my hands on the front of his car to keep myself upright but when I saw the word that was scrawled across the hood, I had no choice but to close my eyes again. But that one word that some asshole had dared to call the young man continued to play on a loop in my head with each repetition of it making the pain in my entire body feel like someone was stabbing me with a hot poker.
Thief.
Thief.
Thief.
It seemed to take hours for Lucky to return to my side. I managed to open my eyes long enough to see him struggling with my prescription bottle. I tried to put my hand over his to calm him, but I couldn’t manage it. So I did the one thing I could do and made him a promise I could keep.
“I’ll find him, Lucky. Won’t—won’t let him hurt you. Won’t let anyone—” I had to stop talking when my body teetered and my knees gave out. But my body didn’t hit the road like I expected it to. Lucky had somehow managed to catch me, and despite him being smaller, he was holding me up. I let my head roll against his shoulder.
“Hang on, Zach. You’re okay,” Lucky repeated several times. I could hear the fear in his voice which reminded me of the promise I’d been trying to make.
“Won’t let anyone hurt you… ever hurt you,” I managed to say in a rush of air and then I gave up and let the darkness have me.
Chapter 4
Lucky
I was grateful Zach had managed to tell me what was wrong with him, or I might have panicked. As it was, I was fighting off the nausea in my belly as I witnessed the terrible pain Zach was dealing with. Fortunately, my training and certification as a paramedic made it a little easier for me to assess Zach’s condition. After a quick check of his vitals, it was clear he didn’t need an ER visit, and since he already seemed to know what the problem was and had the appropriate meds for it, what he really needed was a more comfortable place to recover than a gritty street.
