“Dude! He had a broken nose—it needed to be reset,” he answers in a rough whisper, grinning like a jackass.
“Still.”
Anders holds his hands up in surrender, and Thane’s tense stance relaxes. He gathers me into his arms, uncaring of the blood. While I enjoy the affection, my ribs remind me that they arewayunhappy. He pulls back, his face concerned, and I shake my head.
“My ribs. But totally worth it.”
He gathers me into an even gentler hug, and I let him. As I snuggle in closer, I pick up another, less-welcome sound.
“Incoming.”
Stepping in front of me, Thane grabs the rifle hanging from his shoulder. The truck carrying the two remaining assholes starts picking up speed, and Thane takes aim. With three successive shots he takes out the driver and the two front tires. Anders takes aim at the engine with his heavy-duty artillery. The shot is deafening and the truck rears up on its back axle before slamming to the ground and limping to a stop a few feet later. They flank the truck, where Thane takes out the dead driver in a fireman’s carry. Anders grabs the other guy, who is—unfortunately for him—still alive. Anders rips off the sweaty bandanna around his neck, shoves it in this guy’s mouth, and hog ties him before picking him up like a bag of groceries and climbing into the back of the SUV.
“Portal to Nowhere?” he asks, reaching for the back gate.
Thane flips the second dead body into the back. “Gotta drop off the trash first, then Portal to Nowhere.”
Thane and I get into the driver and passenger seats respectively, and we take off like a shot.
I look around at the unincorporated land, and wonder aloud, “Who do you think owns this land?”
Thane scratches his beard. “We do now.”
* * *
Thirty minutes later we meet up with the disposal crew, a pair of weirdos in a field off of Highway 290 East between Manor and Elgin. In East Texas, we have Dave and Millie; in Central Texas we have Bert and Bert Jr.
They’re a father-daughter team who currently work with the Texas Department of Transportation, taking roadkill from the Tri-County Area and using it in their compost piles to create fertilizer and bone meal, which they then sell back to TxDOT prior to wildflower season. Turns out, they’ve got a pretty broad definition of ‘roadkill.’
Fun fact: According to the Berts, human fertilizer is superior because of our varied diets. Eat your broccoli kids; the bluebonnets will thank you.
I ride back to the tattoo shop slightly more traumatized by our disposal team than by being kidnapped. Anders insists that they’re good people, but you’ll have to consider the source on that one.
On the way back to the shop, Anders pumps me up with a couple of different types of medications, and I decide not to ask too many questions about the contents of the syringes. By the time we get there, I’m groggy and still aware of the painful state of my ribs, but I care less.
We carry the guy who isn’t being buried in a mound of deer carcasses, to the small tiled room at the back of the PTN and wrangle his bound arms up onto a hook.
Anders turns to us and winks. "You probably don't want to be here for this. Please close the door on the way out."
When Anders Bash says that I don't want to see something, I believe him. Thane and I walk through the PTN and close the door quietly, not looking back.
I collapse on one of the couches, laying down on my side. And then sit right back up because that fucking hurt. Thane gently settles next to me and opens his arm. Leaning against him is less painful in more ways than one.
He kisses the top of my head. "I was going out of my mind. Pretty sure I owe Hedy an apology."
"I'm just glad my brother doesn’t know.”
There’s an uncomfortable silence as Thane’s jaw tightens into a grimace.
"Oh no."
He nods. "He came here."
"Fuck. I'm surprised you even have eyebrows left."
"I don't. I drew these on," he says, grinning as he skims his fingers over the wonderfully bushy brows.
"You know he and Ashley are gonna be over here the second they know that you have me."
