Chapter Twelve

As Joe ran down the street all he could see was a mass of rubble where the sheriff’s office had been. Scanning the parking lot, his adrenaline went into overdrive when he saw Rocky and Mal’s bikes knocked over in the parking lot. “Rocky. Mal,” he yelled, his heart returning to normal rate when he saw the pair running over from Cam’s.

“What the fuck?” Rocky’s eyes were flashing wolf and not even Mal’s hand on his arm held him back.

“Who was in there?” Joe said urgently. “Who was working tonight?”

“Liam, but he wasn’t in the office. He’s on call.” Mal said turning to look down the road as a stream of bikes headed their way. “Looks like they got the message. I text Ra as soon as we heard the explosion.”

“Fucking knocked the bottles from the bar,” Cam grumbled but Joe could sense anger in him too. “Did anyone see the car that drove off?”

“Worry about that later,” Mal shook his head. “Hargraves was inside that lot.” He pointed to the rubble.

“Simon? Did Simon get out?” Joe didn’t know the snake shifter very well, but he and Darwin’s children were less than a year old.

“I’m here. I left that skuzz-ball in his cell over half an hour ago.” Simon got off his bike and hurried over with Ra on his heels. Brutus was also there, scanning the crowd that had gathered, mostly from Cam’s bar. Liam hurried to Rocky’s side, with Trent, his mate shadowing him. “We’re going to have to dig him out. It’s not right to leave him buried under there.”

“I’ll shift and find him first, or at least roughly where he might be,” Mal said stripping off his shirt. “There’s no point in carting all this rubble for nothing.”

“What the hell happened here?” Mrs. Hooper, hair tied up in a scarf and clutching her dressing gown around her ample form pushed through the crowd. “Is everyone safe?”

“Mrs. Hooper, why don’t we move back and let these men work. I’m sure the mayor will make a statement shortly.” Joe threw a thankful glance at Doc who was escorting Mrs. Hooper to a safe distance away. Mal was sniffing over the rubble and then for some reason, started moving away from the bomb site, over the car park to the road that ran behind Cam’s bar. But he didn’t stop there.

“I thought he was sniffing out that sleazy lawyer,” Rocky said, scratching his head.

“I’ve got a horrible suspicion that’s exactly what he’s doing.” Joe sprinted after Mal, Rocky hot on his heels. Mal circled once, looking toward the road, and then padded to the back of Cam’s bar. There wasn’t much there. An old chiller, a dumpster, and crates of empty bottles stacked up waiting to be picked up for recycling. Mal loped back and forth, his light fur bright under the security lights, sniffing at the dumpster and then the chiller and then the dumpster again.

“Is Hargraves hiding here?” Rocky whispered. Mal nodded. Rocky jerked his head to the chiller and Joe took the dumpster. Gods, I get the glamorous jobs, he thought as he swung the lid of the dumpster open as quietly as he can, making sure the lid didn’t bang on the wall. Bags of trash interspersed with rotting food made Joe’s eyes water, but there, in the corner, hidden by a large trash bag was a definite rustle of something bigger than a rat. At least Joe hoped it was Hargraves. He didn’t want to be screaming like a girl in front of his boss if he found a furry four-footed rodent.

Creeping silently around to where he thought he saw movement, Joe wanted to hold his nose. Moldy potatoes fought for ranking stench rights with something that resembled rotting socks. Playing a hunch, he lightly scratched on a bag close to where he though Hargraves might be hiding. Sure enough, he was rewarded with a tiny whisper. “Myron, is that you? Thank god you came back for me….” Hargraves snapped his mouth shut as Joe whipped out the bag covering the lawyer with one hand and grabbed him around the back of the neck with the other.

“No. No. You’re not locking me up again.” Hargraves struggled, fishing in his pants for something. A loud bang, a sharp pain and Rocky’s growl was the last thing Joe remembered before he hit the dirt.

/~/~/~/~/

Doc’s head snapped up as he heard the gunshot and he was running towards the sound before his brain realized what his feet were doing. Please, please, please, please, but his animal half already knew what his mind was dreading. Rounding the corner of Cam’s bar, Doc’s worst nightmare came to life. Rocky was strangling Hargraves with both hands while Mal was begging Rocky to stand down, that Hargraves had information they needed. But it was Joe who commanded Doc’s attention. His body starkly highlighted by the harsh security lights, blood darkening his blue shirt, Joe’s eyes were closed, and he was completely motionless.

“I’ll kill him,” Doc snarled. “Fucking get out of my way, Rocky. I’m going to fucking kill that useless lawyer and shit on his corpse.”

“Tend to your mate.” Simon was there, and Ra too, with Brutus providing back up. Their brute strength and big frames effectively blocking Hargraves from Doc’s sight. He wanted to push past; he wanted to tear Hargraves limb from limb, but then Joe moaned, and Doc was there in an instant, his professionalism pushing away his need for revenge.

“I need my bag,” he yelled, ripping Joe’s shirt from neck to hem. “Lights. More lights. I don’t dare move him.”

“Should he shift, Doc?” Liam’s face was white as he knelt on Joe’s other side.

“The bullet has gone too close to the heart. A shift could kill him.” Doc probed around the wound, one hand sliding around Joe’s back. As he suspected, no exit wound. Come on, babe, don’t give up on me now. He knew some shifters had mind links, but his mating was still new, and he hadn’t given it a try. But now, with Joe’s pulse erratic and his breathing shallow, Doc was prepared to dance naked down the Main Street with flowers in his hair if it helped his mate in any way. I haven’t told you I love you, yet. I’ve got huge plans for our anniversary. We have a wedding to plan. Don’t you dare give up on us now.

“Where’s my damn bag?” Every second counted. He looked up, seeing a mass of concerned faces, but no bag in sight.

“Here, Doc.” Cam was there with Trent and someone who looked like his brother. “We brought the top of the bed in case that would help and lights. Tell us where you want them.”

“I need to see.” Doc’s hand was shaking, and he slapped it on his knee, so the tremors wouldn’t show. “Whoever’s tallest, stand holding the light above Joe’s head. Anyone else, stand in a semi-circle around that one, holding them as high as you can. Stay on this side of me. Liam grab that sheet, fold it and slide it carefully under my mate’s head. Leave the bed for now, I need to get this bullet out first.” Come on training, don’t desert me now.

In his almost four centuries of living, Doc had removed hundreds of bullets from shattered bodies. The one lodged in Joe was only a small caliber, likely from a hand gun, yet the size had allowed the bullet to pass through his mate’s ribs. Blood was flowing steadily under his fingers and Doc prayed to the Fates, Gods, and anyone who would listen that the bullet hadn’t nicked an artery.

Scrambling through his bag, Doc pulled out a long thin pair of tweezers with a magnetic end. “Hold that light steady,” he ordered as he carefully pushed the metal through Joe’s skin. Stopping with barely an inch inside, Doc had to control himself, his hands were trembling so much. Fortifying himself with a long glance at his mate’s pale face, his blond hair a stark contrast to the pavement, Doc gave himself a sound talking to. You can do this. You’ve trained for decades for just this moment. Ignore the blood. It’s just a small insignificant little bullet. Just put the probe in and pull it out again slow and steady.

It seemed like hours, but in reality, it was not even a minute before Doc was holding the tweezers upright, a small mashed bit of metal clinging to the end of them.

“I’ll need that, Doc.” Rocky stepped forward with a plastic evidence bag. Doc dropped the bullet in it and then turned back to his patient – his mate. At least this was a clean wound. There wasn’t a hint of poison or anything coming from the bullet entry site. Grabbing some sterile gauze, Doc taped it over the hole and then let his hand linger on Joe’s head. His mate’s color was coming back into his face, and the gauze on his chest stayed white meaning the blood flow had slowed. Doc would put a few stitches in it, but not while Joe was on the pavement. Lethargy flooded his muscles as his adrenalin subsided.

“Doc, are you okay?” Liam asked. “Do you want a hand getting him on the bed, so we can carry him back to the surgery?”

As much as Doc would rather do it himself, Joe needed to remain flat until the stitches were in and he’d regained consciousness. “Yes, boys, if you wouldn’t mind. Liam, can you take his feet?” Doc slipped his hands under Joe’s broad shoulders. Cam and Trent held the bed base steady, sliding it under Joe’s body as Doc and Liam lifted him.

“We’ll all take a corner,” Rocky appeared, his voice grim. “Simon and Brutus have taken the person responsible for this back to the mayor’s office for interrogation.”

“I want him dead,” Doc hissed as a somber procession made their way to Doc’s office. “I know he’s human, but this is a shifter affair. He came into a shifter town, claiming to work for other shifters so he’s subject to our laws. I know he’s got information you need, and now I know Joe’ll be okay, I can live with that. But I want your solemn word, when you’ve wrung him dry I want him dead.”

Rocky didn’t answer, probably because he was still wearing his sheriff’s uniform, but from the growls coming from Trent, Cam, and Liam, Doc was reasonably confident Hargraves wouldn’t be leaving Arrowtown alive.