“Embarrassing,” Jon said in his best mock-gossipy tone.
Predictably, PJ looked back at them with open agitation. “Mock it while you can, but by minute’s end—”
“It’s just,” Lance interrupted, making a deliberately lazy gesture between them, “it takes me … way less.”
Pretty Bird blinked once, hard. Openly startled.
The lightning crashed down around him like a beautiful, yellow-gold cage of crackling electricity. Lance didn’t let it touch the man, not directly. He wanted the bastard toseeit. He wanted Pretty Bird—PJ, Q, Quetzal, whatever-the-fuck his name was—to have that split-second of dawning horror and dread upon realizing that he was about to die from electrocution. And there wasn’t a goddamn thing he could do about it. His precious birds couldn’t save him. Even if he threw them at Lance like spears of old, it was too late. The water lingering around his ankles was the perfect conductor.
Lance and Jon held perfectly still while their target wailed and convulsed in his final moments. It was not the expedient death of a bullet to the brain. It was not the painless death of passing in one’s sleep. It was not the quiet death most hoped for.
It was the deserved death of a man who had done terrible things and had no intentions to stop.
Minutes passed before the last of the bastard’s life slipped from him, and only then did Lance release the charge. Only then did the unnatural flood recede.
It was …strangehow strange Lynnette felt, sitting in the hospital once more. She tried telling herself that was because she wasn’t used to being a patient or relegated to the waiting room, but those details were only part of the truth. Probably less than half.
She’d lost track of time somewhere between when Jon had parted with them on the edge of the forest and the ambulance had pulled up outside her old place of work. Given how long it took merely to make the drive, and that she was sure she’d been sitting in the same seat for well over an hour, far too long had passed. She had a vague memory of making a phone call and a clearer memory of backseat-nursing the obviously amateur paramedic who’d transported her and Jenna.
Who had she called again?
Deputy-turned-Interim Sheriff Raph Dennison stepped into view once more, returning from whichever conversation he’d been having, and lowered himself back into the seat adjacent to the double-seater she and Jenna had piled into. His vibrantly green eyes flicked between the two of them for a moment before he spoke, keeping his voice to a respectable whisper. “I spoke to the doctor, and he says your battlefield patch probably saved Billy’s life. It’ll leave a heck of a scar, but better that than the alternative.” He dipped his head. “The doctor says once he wakesup, if he’s willing to see you, they’ll be fine letting you in—one at a time.”
Jenna released an audible breath.
Lynnette tried not to take the response personally—she hadn’t truly been worried Billy would die, not since they’d gotten the bleeding to stop. Instead, she nodded and pulled a smile onto her tired face. “Thank you for checking.” It came as no real surprise that the hospital that had fired her wouldn’t give her information about a patient she wasn’t closely related to. More than one of the passing nurses had given her dirty, or at least questionable, looks already.
The whole situation was damn ridiculous.
Dennison scrubbed a hand through his hair, blew out a breath, and said, “Now that we’ve made sure you’re all going to live, I really am going to need to talk to you. The hospital says we can borrow a conference room. I thought you might prefer that to driving all the way back to Leeland County.”
Lynnette saw Jenna start to bob her head and forced herself to speak up first. “With all due respect, Deputy”—and she mostly meant it, as so far Dennison seemed to be the one keeping the Leeland County Sheriff’s Department afloat—“I don’t think we should be having those types of conversations without our lawyer present. Given that your department has already required us to take that step.”
Dennison winced but inclined his head. “I understand. But the sooner you can get Ms. Rodriguez involved, the better.”
“Sure.” Lynnette pulled out her phone and called up her text thread with Lilia. She was less concerned about being framed or otherwise mistreated by Dennison, but she meant what she’d said all the same. Especially since the case surrounding the Parkers and their controlled version of the department wasn’t over by a long shot. So, she typed out the simplest message she could think of.
Hey, some more stuff’s happened. Jen and I are at the hospital. Banged up but okay. Friend of ours is worse. All ties back into the mess the Parkers were wrapped up in, and someone died outside Jenna’s apartment. It’s complicated. Deputy Dennison wants to talk to us about it all.
Yeah, there’s nothing simple about that, is there?At least she could console herself with the fact that the headache wasn’t her fault.
As if on cue, an unpleasantly familiar voice shrilled practically in her ear. “What the hell are you doing here, Garver?”
Lynnette looked up from her phone and straight into the glaring eyes of one of the catty bitches who’d gotten her fired. She didn’t have the energy to fake a smile. “Leave me alone, Claire.” She skimmed her gaze over the other woman pointedly, then made a half-hearted motion to herself. “As you can see, I’m not here to work.” Unlike the blonde in the wrinkled scrubs.
Claire cocked a hip and nestled a hand on her protruding hipbone. “At least we agree on one thing. But since you’re obviously also not being admitted, you should leave. No one wants you here.”
Jenna sat up straight.
Dennison, seated almost parallel to Claire’s position, angled to one side and opened his mouth as if he wanted to respond.
Claire’s eyes widened and her entire posture faltered as a pair of strong, warm hands came to rest on Lynnette’s shoulders from behind.
Calloused fingers dug subtly into Lynnette’s skin and thumbs rubbed over the back of her neck in a soothing, massaging motion that immediately relaxed her. She had to fight not to smile as Lance’s voice filled the air, the irritation in his tone noteven registering. “Claire, right? You got my girl fired over some petty, stupid shit we all know you made up. Now you’re throwing a hissy fit ‘cause she still exists?” His grip tightened faintly. “Your high school mean-girl attitude is tired and fucking stupid. So let me make something crystal clear.Nevercome for my girl again.”
Claire sucked in a scandalized breath.
Dennison cleared his throat roughly.
