PD struggled but sent me an apologetic glance, his eyes wet as if he felt my pain.
“You’re not even worth the arrest, but your buddy is. See how far he gets for assaulting a police officer.” Hooker laughed, and together they hauled PD out the door. I couldn’t argue, couldn’t chase them, because moving wasn’t an option. I needed pain meds, and bad, but there was no one here right now but me and the amount of agony that had rendered me useless.
Instead, all I could do was clutch my ribs and screw my eyes closed, sobbing. Fuck, it hurt. Why did it hurt so much?
I didn’t know how long I sat there before the door opened and there were voices. I managed to open my eyes, but it felt like the lids had been glued together. I groaned as King’s face became visible in my line of sight.
“Shit. Will, what happened?”
Beside him, Dallas crouched, his face full of concern. “Maybe we need to call an ambulance.”
“No . . . .” I forced the air through my nose. “No ambulance. Pain meds, I need . . . .”
The sound of footsteps met my ears, and Dallas was gone, probably to run up the stairs to my room to get the meds I’d asked for.
“Rook, talk to me. Did you fall over?” King’s gaze was alight with worry, and for the first time since the accident, I didn’t care about it. PD needed me to grow some balls.
“Need River. Cops came.” I exhaled and groaned as another bout of pain hit me. I cradled an arm around my ribs and held in the urge to sob from the intensity of the fire licking my ribcage. “For the commissioner. They attacked me. PD hit them. Arrested.”
“Fuck.” King jumped to his feet and yanked out his phone from his jeans. I focused on his black boots, caked in old mud and dirt, as he called River. They spoke, but I was in and out of it.
Then, Dallas was back, a glass of water in one hand and pills in another. He placed the meds at my mouth, and I opened my lips to let him slip them inside before he held the rim of the glass there so I could take a sip. I swallowed greedily until I’d be sick if I drank any more.
“It’s okay, you’re going to be okay,” Dallas murmured, and I wished I could believe him. What little progress I’d made with my weak body was for nothing after today. I craved death, to end it all, but the only thing that stopped me from entertaining the idea was PD’s earlier words.
I could forget a lot of things, but not that.
The world would be a sad place without PD in it, and if me dying meant he would, too, then I’d stay on this godforsaken plane.
King kneeled in front of me again. “River’s going to the Downtown Station now. There’s a new DA who doesn’t put up with rogue cops, and River’s going to talk with him. PD’s going to be fine. River will make sure they let him go. Let’s get you into bed.”
I whimpered when they each took an arm and helped me stand. Pain slammed me and my vision grayed out.
6
PD
The car made a hard right, and I braced my hands against the wall of the trunk to stop myself from rolling.
“I’m going to fucking kill you all!” I yelled, but the speakers were blasting “Friends in Low Places” and Garth Brooks was drowning me out. There was a burst of laughter, though, so maybe they could hear me.
Maybe they were just self-righteous pricks.
Obviously, they’d planned this—or something like it—because there wasn’t a single, solitary thing in the trunk. I began kicking as hard as I could on the lid, but it was awkward, and there wasn’t much room. The car made another hard turn, and I growled, protecting my face and head as I shifted and slammed against the rear of the trunk. My arms ached and twinged, as well as my knees. I had no idea how many times they’d been smashed around at this point.
As soon as I could, I started kicking again, hoping to at least leave enough dents that someone asked what the fuck happened if I turned up as roadkill. At this rate, I wouldn’t even be a decent corpse. I was being tenderized in here.
“What a fucking day,” I snarled. The way Will had looked, crumpled on the floor, was stuck in my head, and I couldn’t shake it out of there. His agony fueled my rage. If he wasn’t all right, it would take an entire army to keep me from destroying these assholes, consequences be damned. I would rip out their hearts.
The car stopped, and I slid the knife in my pocket out and unfolded it. My army knife wasn’t much, just a tool, really, but I would go down swinging. The trunk popped open, and before I could leap out, I had an officially issued gun shoved in my face. I swiped my knife at Lawrence anyway—because I doubted these dickheads had the balls for murder—and I was right. He didn’t shoot me.
As angry as I was, I would’ve caught the bullet between my teeth and force-fed it to him.
Hooker stepped in and punched me in the jaw, and I grabbed his arm and sank my knife into his shoulder. He yelled as I pulled it back out and stumbled away from me, and I caught the butt of the gun on the side of the head.
The world spun. I stopped moving, but not because I wanted to give up. My stomach heaved. Thank fuck the world solidified again and I sat up. Hooker was too busy panicking and jumping around in a circle like an idiot, and Lawrence just imitated a fish on land.
“He stabbed me!”
