“We’re fine. I got help from a friend. We’re safe, but we need to move.”
“Okay…” Cross’s voice cut out. He was trying to stay with Stone, but the world had tilted, and everything was spinning.
“Cross? Cross?” Stone yelled his name, but Cross didn’t have the energy to respond. The snake bite wasn’t helped by being grazed by a bullet. He tried to form the words to tell Stone he wasokay, but he couldn’t get them out. Suddenly, as if his body had tapped out of adrenaline, everything hurt. His head, his side, his entire body. He tried to stay alert, but it was no use. He slumped forward against the steering wheel, unconscious before he hit the horn.
Cross woketo the sharp scent of antiseptic and the low hum of machines. A dull ache pulsed behind his eyes, thudding in time with his heartbeat. For a second, he couldn’t move—his limbs felt heavy, his skin burning in patches like someone had taken steel wool to him.
The swamp.
Drew.
His eyes snapped open. He tried to sit up but a firm hand on his chest stopped him. “Easy,” Stone said, leaning over him. His shoulder was bandaged, but he looked otherwise intact—alert, steady. Alive.
“You’re in a clinic just outside Houma,” Stone added. “Private. Off-grid. Courtesy of Savvy’s contacts.”
Cross licked his lips. His throat felt like sandpaper. “Drew?—”
McGuire appeared at his side, arms crossed, expression like granite. “We’re going to get her back. But you need to chill for a damn second before you end up with more than a swamp infection and a cracked skull. That cottonmouth bite damn near killed you, so just take a minute.”
“How bad is it?” Cross asked.
“You have a mild concussion. You’ve also got some nasty bacteria hitchhiking in your bloodstream. That swamp water would rot you from the inside out if left unchecked, never mind the snake venom,” Stone said grimly. “Doc’s got you on IVantibiotics and fluids. You were almost DOA when Rick found you passed out in the car, and you’re not out of the woods yet.”
Cross scrubbed a hand down his face and winced. Everything hurt. “Fucking cottonmouth.” He shook his head and then instantly regretted it as a wave of nausea hit him. He glanced down at the sheet that covered his leg.
McGuire grunted. “You don’t want to see it. Believe me. The doc said it will heal, but it’s going to be damn ugly for a while. She also said you have a nasty ding on your arm from where you got shot.”
Cross nodded and then immediately regretted it. “Yeah. I think I got it when we were fighting with the Weasel.” Or was it after? Goddamn poison in his system was making him fuzzy. Wait…he’d been shot when those assholes had grabbed Drew…hadn’t he? Frustrated, he knocked his head back against the pillow.
“What happened to him?” Stone asked as he sat down on the empty bed next to Cross. Frankie settled beside him.
“Gator got him in the end. At least I think that’s what happened. Pulled him under, and I didn’t see him get back up. But we didn’t linger.” He gave a small shrug, which also made him wince. “We might never know for sure what happened to the Weasel.
“We had to go overland and through the swamp after that since the Weasel shot holes in our boat, so I guess that’s when it happened.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “What day is it?”
“Still the same one,” McGuire said. “Barely.”
Cross let his head fall back against the pillow but opened his eyes. “We have to go after her. Now.”
“You’ll go after her when you can stand without listing like a sinking barge,” came a woman’s voice from across the room.
Tessa stepped forward, arms crossed, a manila folder tucked beneath one arm. Her strawberry-blond hair was pulled back,face scrubbed clean, gaze razor sharp. “We have to assume she’s in Miami,” she said. “With the Weasel out of the way, Rodriguez will want to operate from territory he controls. He won’t keep her out in the open bayou—not when his operation depends on leverage and protection.”
Cross’s jaw tensed. “You sound awfully sure.”
Tessa gave him a measured look. “I’ve dealt with men like Rodriguez. Territory is everything. He’ll want control.”
She said it with confidence, but Cross detected something that she wasn’t saying. He glanced at Stone, who gave him a tiny nod. Stone knew it too. If Tessa wasn’t Dane’s sister they would’ve confronted her already. Something about her story didn’t totally add up, and they all knew it. With Drew’s life on the line, Cross had no issues with pushing Tessa, but they could do it on the road. “Then let’s go.”
Cross started to rise again, but McGuire grabbed his arm and shoved him back down. “You’re not going anywhere until the Doc clears you. And even then, we don’t just go in loaded for bear.”
Patch entered then, all calm swagger and grit, a massive duffel bag slung over his shoulder, Savvy close behind. She offered Cross a small, sympathetic smile.
“We’ve got weapons, burner phones, and a few of Savvy’s magic tricks,” Patch said, setting the bag down with a heavy thump. “We’re good to move when you are.”
“I’m moving now,” Cross gritted.
“You are not,” McGuire countered. “We form a plan first. We figure out what Rodriguez wants with Drew—because this isn’t just about payback anymore.”
