“Zip ties in the door,” March choked out, his face turning as red from the strain.
I ran for the car and found the ties in the door pocket.
Buzzcut finally slumped to the ground as I returned.
I handed the ties to March. Looking around, I noticed a few faces in windows, but not a single person had come out to help during the fight. From the lack of sirens I guessed that none had called 9-1-1 either.
A minute later, both of my attackers were trussed up, and March was on his phone. “Two to pick up,” he said loudly.
“Three,” I corrected and pointed down the street. “The old lady was in on it.”
“Sree,” March repeated into his phone. “Swone woman and stew sassholes,” he slurred. He touched the side of his head where I’d hit him. “I gots my bell srung pretty.” He wobbled, and then fell over.
I rushed over and grabbed the phone. “Call an ambulance. He just collapsed.” I shouldered the phone and sobbed as I cradled his head. My God, I’d caused this.
“We’re on the way and getting an ambulance,” Terry said in my ear. “What happened?”
“He got hit in the head. Please hurry.”
“Call Wellbourne, too,” Terry commanded. “With an ambulance call, the cops will join in. Hold on, Peyton. We’re on the way.” Then the line went silent.
I dropped the phone. This was all my fault. He couldn’t die. He just couldn’t. “March, wake up.” I ran my fingers through his hair. “March, come on, talk to me.”
“He fucking deserves it,” Shorty said.
A siren finally sounded in the distance, coming our way.
“I hope he dies,” Buzzcut added, spitting blood into the dirt.
I knew March always wore his gun and felt around for it. It took some effort to pull it out of his holster. “You assholes better hope he’s okay, you hear me?” I waved the gun at them.
They both cowered in silence.
“Didn’t you hear me?” I repeated, aiming at one and then the other. “I want to hear it.”
“Yeah, I hope he’s okay,” Buzzcut said meekly.
“Me too,” Shorty mumbled.
Point made, I laid the gun on the dirt. I wanted my hand free to hold my man and stroke his head. There was no blood, so the injury was internal, and I knew full well that those could be the worst. Holding him was all I could do. That and hope the ambulance got here in time.
The sirens got closer. There were two or three now.
I leaned close. “You better be okay, dammit, so I can kiss you again.” I’d heard trauma victims needed a reason to fight, and even though it was against my better judgment, I desperately wanted to kiss this gorgeous, courageous man again.
His eyes fluttered, and then one opened slightly. “Swhat dids you say?”
“That’s it. Stay with me. Hang on. You have to be okay, March. You’re a SEAL, and you have to complete the mission. You can’t give up.”
March’s eyes fluttered closed.
“He’s a SEAL,” Buzzcut said to Shorty. “I told you no normal guy could beat me.” He laughed.
I leaned over close to my man’s mouth. “Copy that,” I said in my best military imitation. I gave Buzzcut the death stare, picked up the gun, and aimed squarely at his chest. “He gave me permission to shoot you if you say one more word.”
Buzzcut’s eyes went wide, and then a wet spot grew around his crotch as he squirmed farther away. “I really, really hope he’s okay.”
I lowered the heavy gun and whispered into March’s ear. “You hang in there, big guy. We need to kiss again.”
