Lynnette swallowed, Lance’s words replaying in her mind.
“You know the answer to that…”
“…regulate my voltage.”
The only explanation for those comments, and how he kept her from taking a bullet she might not have survived, was that he was like Jon. He had inexplicable superpowers akin to magic. She’d never known those were real until literally the previous day, when Jon had pulled water out of thin fucking air and washed out her truck to clean out the blood evidence after having dropped a body into it. But there was no denying what she’d seen. And while Lance had obviously done something different, he’d nonetheless donesomethingonly definable as superhuman.
And it wasn’t her place to out him on that.
“I don’t know what happened, specifically, before I entered the room. Blackburn said the sheriff had already made an attempt on him by then. When I came in, I saw the sheriff moments before he spun toward me with his gun already drawn. I saw the gun coming toward my face and I panicked. I think my heart stopped for a moment, because all I remember is thinking ‘oh god, holy shit,’ and ‘my dad’s not gonna handle this well’ and the next thing I knew the patient was on his feet and the sheriff was unconscious on the floor.” She drew a breath. It was close enough to the truth that she didn’t feel bad. “I know Sheriff Parker’s hit his head, and he’s still breathing. I know he’s confirmed himself a threat. And I know Blackburn wasn’t harmed, but he’s angry.”
Garland’s jaw tightened and he nodded sharply. “I’m going to lock this up,” he said, indicating the weapon. He pulled up his phone, tapped a couple buttons, and spoke into it as if making a call. “I need security, a stretcher, and someone call the police. We’ve got a hostile in need of securing, stat.”
Lynnette blew out a breath. The sheriff was out of his jurisdiction. He might still get favorable treatment, depending on mindsets, but he had no real authority in Klamath Falls. He wasn’ttheirsheriff.
“Meet them at the patient’s room, make sure the assailant is hauled off, and verify that Blackburn’s feeling alright,” Garland said to her. “I’ll be there to speak with him momentarily.”
She nodded sharply. “Of course. Thank you, doctor.” At least the last thing she got to do before she went searching for new employment was meaningful.
If it also gave her another moment or two with Lance, that was just a convenient bonus.
Chapter thirteen
Up to Speed
The only good thingabout the monotony of interviews that followed Morty’s moronic attack was that, somewhere along the way, Lance ended up with Lynnette’s phone number. He wasn’t even sure if he’d gotten it from Jon, Jenna, or the Civil Rights attorney, Lilia Rodriguez, who was spearheading the campaign to rip out the corruption from the Leeland County Sheriff’s Department. Nor did he care. He had it, and he intended to make use of it.
As soon as he’d showered, refueled, and been brought up to speed on all the crap that had apparently gone on while he was trapped in a hospital bed. Lucky for him, Jon had called in some reinforcements, and their buddies had booked a couple rooms at a local motel to camp out in until the actual camping out began. Lance had no intention of inserting himself into one of their rooms long-term, but when Foxe offered up his shower and a place to sit and reconvene that wasn’t some other asshole’s interview room, he’d jumped at it.
Close to twenty-four hours had passed since Lance had seen or spoken to Lynnette and he ached to see her again. To see her for the first time on his damn feet, wearing pants, and maybe able to speak without the constraints of stupid labels.
First, he needed a big picture.
Foxe, about three months older than Lance, one inch taller, and dark-skinned to Lance’s lighter complexion, looked over at him as Lance stepped into the main space. The man still kept his head shaved even more than five years retired, but he’d grown in a nice, trimmed black beard that actually suited his face. Not that Lance could tell him that.
“Thanks for the shower, brother,” Lance said as he finished tucking his clean shirt into a fresh pair of cargo pants.
Foxe grinned. “No problem, man. I still can’t believe you spent most of a week in a fucking hospital. Always thought you’d just straight-up die before something could lay you out like that.”
Lance laughed and dropped to sit in the single, subpar desk chair the room provided. “It was a bit more complicated than that, if I’m being honest. But it’s workin’ out.” He bent forward, tugged up his pantleg, and set to work removing the protective plastic he’d used to keep the damn gauze dry. He really was looking forward to being healed up, but at least he could tell he was mending well.
“Damn, really was a shifter, huh?” Foxe said with a grunt. “That must’ve rankled you pretty bad.”
Lance scoffed as he shook his pantleg back out and balled up the plastic to be discarded. “If I’d known the fucker was a shifter, I’d’ve just fried his ass. Maybe dropped a second bolt on the goddamn Bronco and called it a fuckin’ day.”
“I hear that.” Foxe tossed him a rolled-up paper bag with a fast-food logo. “Thought you might be in the mood for some grease.”
“Be still my heart,” Lance teased as he dug into the bag, “you even got me onion rings?”
“I’m cool like that,” Foxe replied with a shrug.
“Foxy, will you adopt me? I could be a great big brother.” He flashed his former bunkmate a wide grin. It’d taken Foxe all of ten seconds since their reunion for the man to bust out the pictures of his princess—the little girl whose birth had prompted his retirement. He’d gone from fierce, explosive-loving Marine to cooing girl-dad who seemed to know all the shades of pink and far too much about Barbies. It was fucking hilarious.
Predictably, Foxe roared with a laugh, slapping his thigh as he nearly fell backward on the bed he was perched on. “Hell no, you son of a bitch, I don’t need you influencing my baby girl!” He raised a finger and pointed aggressively at Lance. “You stay clear of my princess until you’ve at least married and learned how to settle your ass down.”
Lance laughed and pulled out his food.Married, huh?It’d never been in his life plan. His life plan had been the Corps. But things had to change, and if Lynnette really was his fairytale, then … maybe he ought to start thinking in that direction.
He let that marinate in the back of his mind, took a big bite of his burger, and looked up at Foxe. “Serious talk,” he said, letting the levity slip from his voice. “I’ve been off the field. I need to be brought up to speed, and we both know Jon’s a little distracted right now.”
