Chapter 20

ZQ and JJ entered the ranch house through the front door. JJ signaled Nance to guard the exit. She’d stop anyone who tried to escape. As they approached his office, grunts and flesh hitting flesh grew louder.

Clint straddled a man whose nose appeared broken, his lip split, and his right eye swollen nearly shut. “How many of you are there? Your buddy’s dead. A SEAL already shot him. You heard the blast. We’ve got more men on this ranch than you can imagine. All of them know how to shoot and inflict unspeakable torture.”

The man on the floor spat in Clint’s face. Dumbass. ZQ had to admit he was surprised at Clint’s swiftness when he raised enough to flip the man over and pull back his arms to the point of dislocating his shoulders. Clint slid an arm around the man’s elbows and pulled on them while the dude screeched in agony. When the former Ranger rammed his knee up the prisoner’s ass, ZQ had to laugh. Hell, Clint kept talking about retiring. The old coot had a lot of life left in him yet.

“You know, I’m kind of comfortable like this,” Clint bragged. “Maybe you’re slow at counting, is that it? The dead guy in the kitchen makes one. You make two. Is there anyone else?” He jammed his knee so hard, the prisoner would soon know if his nuts tasted like pecans or almonds.

“Nyet. No. No more.”

Clint glanced at ZQ and damned if the old guy didn’t appear to be enjoying this. “One more question, my friend.” He tugged harder on the man’s arms and his screams filled the house. “Who is your leader? Who heads the Morozov Circle?”

“I’ll be dead if I tell.”

“Think this through. You’re alone in Texas. We work for the CIA. Ever heard of the C…I…A?” Clint’s knee rammed the man’s crack every time he uttered an initial. “Who’s going to save you but you? Best to look after yourself, son.”

The room was quiet for a minute…two. “JJ, would you mind untying my wife. She’s got to be a mite uncomfortable by now. Fix her a drink. My crack-buddy and I might be here like this all day.” He pulled on the Russian’s arms again.

“Adrik! Adrik Vlaslov!”

ZQ gave Clint the thumbs-up and hurried to his desk to jot down the name. The U.S. Marshal had gotten the identity of the one person no one else knew.

Clint slipped a large knife from his boot and twirled it between his fingers in front of the prisoner’s eyes. “Now we come to the matter of how you treated my wife. You know I love that woman more than my own life. So, do I cut off this ear or that one?”

The man pissed himself.

Kelcee raised her head and placed her hand against Dustin’s face. He’d protected her. This SEAL with a heart of gold, no matter how much he denied it, had been her defender. “Thank you for saving my life, big guy. While Tony pushed his gun into my throat, I kept thinking of all the things I’d never get to tell you. All the things we’d never get to do together.” Her gaze swept the room. “Can we go sit someplace else? Even with one eye swollen shut, between Alonzo and Tony, it’s so bloody here. My stomach and nerves have had all they can take.”

“No anger toward me for killing your brother?” His blue eyes regarded her, tension lines fanning out from their corners.

She rubbed her cheek against his. “No. The person you shot ceased being my brother the moment he shot a helpless little girl. I’ve known how he wanted to kill me, lived with that terror, and now, thanks to you, I’m free. You were right. It was Tony who ran me down. Now, let’s go to another room, please.”

“The lady’s wish is my command.” Dustin stood and scooped her off the floor.

She wrapped her arm around his neck as he slowly picked his way through the kitchen, hunting for spots on the floor less stained. “Gee, will it always be this way?”

“Ah, so the feminine manipulation starts.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m a generous man, but make no mistake about it, I’m most definitely a demanding alpha. I think the fighting in ZQ’s office is over. The screaming has stopped. Let’s go join them. First, I want to wipe off your face, see how badly the sombitch struck you.”

He carried Kelcee into the guest bathroom. “Baby, don’t look in the mirror. Listen to me now.” He set her on the vanity and drew water to make a washcloth wet. With gentle pressure, he cleaned off her bruise. “You’re going to need a couple butterflies on this cut.” He handed her a wet bar of soap. “Lather your hands while I wipe the worst of the mess off your face. Then rub soap over it.” Within a couple minutes, her skin was cleaned to his satisfaction while he wiped off her hair. She knew she must be a blood-splattered mess.

Someone stomped down the steps to the sitting room as they came out of the little bathroom. Junebug, who looked like she’d been pulled through a knothole backward, wore a pair of flag-decorated sunglasses and lipstick applied in a zigzag smear over her lips. Across one arm hung an open shotgun and her tattered blue robe was on inside out.

“I am a Texan, born and bred. I can take most anything, even a hellacious migraine. But today has been the exception to that and some sorry-assed sombitch has got to pay.” She turned in the direction of her kitchen and pulled down her sunglasses, took one look, and clasped her heart before dashing into the guest lavatory to throw up. She flushed the commode, water ran, and she stepped back into the sitting room. One glance toward her kitchen and she pivoted into the lavatory once more to repeat the nauseating experience.

She exited in a pale condition, leaning against the doorframe. “Where…where is my son?” Her deepened voice was the sound of impending doom.

Both Kelcee and Dustin pointed to the office and followed her as she roared into it like a tornado wearing bright pink lipstick from her nose to her chin. “Zane Austin Quinlan! You want to explain to me, before I die from shock and an empty stomach, why one of my boys is drunk on my kitchen floor with a nearly headless dead man lying next to him and every inch of my kitchen covered in blood and hair…and…and?” Her voice rose to mother-freaking-out levels as she waved the arm not holding the shotgun. “That mess is everywhere! Floor, walls, my new stove, curtains, counters…” She paused and puffed up as if she were inhaling more steam. “You know how I abhor violence!”

“Yes, ma’am.” ZQ wiped a smile from his face.

Her gaze settled on the Russian handcuffed and lying on her floor. She sniffed the air. “Did he just piss on my waxed wooden floors?”

Fran evidently couldn’t keep silent another minute. “He sure did. Peed his pants like a sissy. He’s Russian. His name’s Dimitri, and he called me a fat cow!”

“What? Oh, not one of my friends, he didn’t.” With an upward flick of Junebug’s arm, the shotgun closed and she shot the man in the balls. He grabbed his crotch and writhed on the floor, crying. She leaned over him. “We don’t talk to our women like that in Texas.”

“Mom!” ZQ charged toward her. “Give me that gun!”

“Oh, fudge and buttermilk. Don’t get so excited. It was only beanbag loads. With the Russians always beating their chests and saying how tough they are, Dimitri ought to be able to handle a couple BBs in his PP.”

ZQ slapped a broad hand over his eyes and shook his head. No one else ventured to voice a response.

Junebug jerked off her sunglasses. “Now, here’s how things are going to go around here. I’m going back to bed until this migraine decides to move on.” She pinned everyone with a hard glare. “I don’t want to hear one more gun blast, one more scream, one more tussle on the floor. No noise! You feel me, as the young kids say? If a fly so much as farts, I’m coming back down with my shotgun. Are we clear on that?”

Everyone nodded, their mouths gaping.

“And Zane Austin Quinlan, I refuse to cook in that kitchen after what I just saw. There’s no way I can ever get it clean enough to suit me or erase the memory. I want a complete remodel. All new cabinets, counters, flooring, appliances, walls…everything. If I don’t get it, I don’t cook. Now, I’m going back to bed before this migraine makes me cranky.” Her speech over, she stormed out the same way she’d stormed in and stomped up the stairway. Everyone jumped when her bedroom door slammed.

“Well,” ZQ whispered as he closed the double doors to his office, “that went over as smooth as butter on warm biscuits. I know what we’ll be doing the next few days. Ripping out the old kitchen and installing a new one. And I’m fixing that ugly hole in the ceiling Mom’s insisted I leave alone.”

“When you see it, ZQ, you’ll understand why she freaked.” Kelcee gave an involuntary shudder. “It’s beyond gruesome.”

“We really should move Alonzo to a more sterile environment so I can check his wound and clean him up.” JJ looked at Kelcee. “Come here. Let me look at that cut to your cheekbone. I’ve got some disinfectant and butterflies for that. Do you know what room Junebug planned to put him in?”

“The yellow bedroom.”

“That’s next to Dustin’s. We’ll use the outside entrance. With Mom’s room upstairs in the original part of the log homestead, maybe she won’t hear us moving around the bedroom in the new wing of the first floor.”

“I’ll take the Russian with us. Call my superior to ask what he wants done with him.” Clint narrowed his eyes on ZQ. “Or would you rather call your handler at the CIA? I have no preference. I’m just trying to clear the house of bodies.”

ZQ sat at his desk and dialed a number. “If it’s all the same to you, Clint, I’m thinking we can squeeze some more intel out of him.” He spoke to someone briefly, giving the barest of details and promising a full email report. After ending the call, he turned to the group. “I’m to fly Tony’s body and Mr. Pissy-pants to a CIA branch in Austin. They’ll be expecting us.

“JJ, take care of Kelcee first. Then you and Dust move Alonzo. I’ll wrap Tony in an old blanket and carry him to the helicopter. Clint, think you can get your buddy here loaded into the back of the helo and secured?”

“Sure. Not a problem.”

“JJ, if Alonzo looks good enough to you to leave alone for a few hours, you can be my copilot. Fran and Kelcee, I hate to ask you this, but how are you around blood? Could I ask you to mop the floor so we can walk through the kitchen without tracking that mess throughout the rest of the house? One mother speech a day is enough for any man.”

“We can handle it. Don’t you worry. I never saw my Silver Stud work in his official capacity.” Fran shifted her shoulders. “He was so commanding. I had no idea. Why, James Bond couldn’t measure up to him, and that’s saying something. Land sakes, he made me all weak and gooey.” Her bejeweled hand went to her bosom and she heaved a sigh, her fluttering eyes adoring her husband.

“Sugar Loaf, we’ll discuss your goo at home, in private.” Clint winked at her.

The room emptied and Kelcee didn’t know if they were all eager to get to work or to get away from the TMI of Fran’s goo.

“Come sit by me, darlin’.” Fran patted the sofa next to her. She embraced Kelcee. “You’ve had a helluva day, revealing the secrets you harbored, being held prisoner and threatened by your own brother, and having him killed in front of you.”

Kelcee shook her head. “I can’t think about it all now. I’ll start to cry and Lord only knows when I’ll stop. Tony told me it was he who ran me down.” Fran cussed. “Tony also said my parents separated because of Dad’s attitude toward me. In a way, I guess he was right. I tore my family apart. There’s no going back for me. My place is here in Warrior Falls now.”

“No, your place is with Dustin. If he decides to stay in the SEALs, you’ll have to talk about whether you’re staying on here or moving to his home base in Coronado. You’ve been frightened for so long, you have very few friends. None your age. You just don’t allow people to get really close. Oh, you treat folks well, that’s part of your charm, but there’s a line you won’t allow people to cross, except for me and Clint and Owen. I’m so glad you did, but you need more people in your life. Young women. A man who adores you.

“Your worries are finally over. Come out of the darkness of hiding and into the sunshine of the living.” Fran patted Kelcee’s knee.

“I’ll try. I was almost accustomed to my aloneness. Until I met Dustin.”

“Well, he is a hunk, I tell you.”

JJ returned with a first-aid kit and fixed the cut over her cheekbone. Nance rested her paw on Kelcee’s knee and whined. Once JJ was through, he kissed her forehead and told her how to take care of her wound. He and Nance left.

Fran stood and held out her hand. “Now, let’s go mop the kitchen floor. Alonzo and Tony’s body should both be moved by now.” Fran gasped when she stepped into the bloodied kitchen and ran for the back door to throw up.

Clint returned and the two hugged outside. He came inside and started carrying the chairs into the yard. Both he and Fran maneuvered the kitchen table out the back door. Clint hosed them down.

Kelcee and Fran went in search of buckets and mops and found them in the well-organized laundry room. There was also a scrub brush. Fran filled a bucket with hot water and disinfectant before setting it on the floor for Kelcee. “Can you squeeze the water out of a mop one-handed?” Kelcee nodded, trying to keep her mind off of whose blood she’d be mopping up. Fran rubbed Kelcee’s shoulder in sympathy. “Just do the best you can. I’ll fill the other bucket with water and use a brush to scrub off the furniture.”

Soon, Fran was scrubbing beside her with a clean bucket of water. Sounds of the helicopter whirring to life drifted in the back door. Fran elbowed Kelcee. “Land sakes, I hope that noise doesn’t waken Junebug. The last thing I need is for her to come storming down here and emptying a load of beanbag shot in my ass. Hell, it’s swollen enough already.” She snorted and kept on mopping. “One, two more passes, and I think it’ll be clean enough to walk on. Why don’t you start on the counters? I’ll finish up here, darlin’.”

Dustin and Clint walked in. Dustin opened the refrigerator and took out a soda for each of the women. “Go into ZQ’s office, rest, and have some refreshments. Take Nance with you. She’s upset because her JJ left without her. She has serious withdrawal issues where he’s concerned.” He reached for a couple treats and handed them to Kelcee.

“Clint and I will finish up here. You’ve done wonders so far. Do you have a headache from your wound, Kitten? Want me to get you something for the pain?”

“It’s only a little headache. How’s Alonzo?” Kelcee looked at Dustin.

“He’s fine for a man shot. He wanted more whiskey, but JJ shoved painkillers down his throat instead. So far, no temperature so that’s always a good sign. The bleeding’s almost stopped.”

“So, the worst of the nightmare is over?”

Dustin emptied the pink water from the sink and refilled it. “Until this kitchen remodel project starts, yeah.” He soaked a sponge with detergent and washed down the refrigerator. “Go lie on the sofa and snuggle with Nance. She loves having her ear and neck scratched. Take a little nap, both of you. You’ve each had a rough day.”

She made to leave the kitchen and Dustin’s voice dropped. “If you think you’re leaving me without a kiss and a bit of a snuggle, your teacup ass is about to get in some serious trouble.”

Oh, the alpha rumbles.

Wrapping her arm around his waist again after their time apart felt so right. “I missed this.” She lay her head against his pecs, listened to the steady beat of his heart, and absorbed his warmth after the hateful coldness of the day. “I needed to be held.”

“I need you, love.” He kissed her. “Now go rest. See if you can calm Nance.”

Nance seemed unsettled by the odors the dog could still detect in the kitchen and didn’t hesitate to follow Kelcee when she called her. She stretched out on the sofa opposite Fran and gave the dog a treat. Once it was gobbled up, Kelcee patted her stomach and asked Nance to come and lie down. As an enticement, she placed a treat on her blouse.

“You know, I hated to ask, but I wonder how that poor dog lost its one ear.” Fran’s voice was getting deep with oncoming sleep.

“Dustin told me it was shot off in Syria, a few days before he was injured. He said JJ nearly went berserk over his girl’s injuries.” Nance jumped on her and licked her chin a couple times before taking the treat. She sprawled on top of Kelcee and chewed while Kelcee ran her hands over the dog’s fur.

“Well, land sakes…” And Fran’s gentle snoring started.

Nance snuggled against Kelcee, obviously enjoying the petting and crooning about what a pretty girl she was.

The whomp, whomp, whomp of a helicopter woke Kelcee and Nance. The dog jumped down and ran for the kitchen where Dustin snapped the leash on her so she wouldn’t get too excited and run into the helicopter’s path when it landed. “Come on, Kitten, let’s walk to the helicopter pad. Did you get a nap?”

“Yes, I did. Fran’s still sleeping.”

Dustin pointed to Clint slumped in one of the chairs by the fire pit, his chin resting on his chest. “He’s played out, too.” Nance dragged Dustin toward the landing helicopter.

ZQ landed the bird and turned off the engine. JJ was the first one to slide open the door and step out. Kelcee unhooked the leash. Nance bounded toward him, barking and yelping a happy song. She jumped for JJ’s chest and knocked him down. She covered his face in canine kisses while she whined and howled, as if she were giving him hell for leaving her behind. JJ laughed as he rubbed and consoled her.

“How did things go, ZQ?” Dustin and Kelcee fell in step with his former commander.

“Good. Dimitri told the corpsmen a crazy woman shot his privates off with a shotgun. They’re still there, just swollen as hell.” He snorted. “I got a few looks when I said it was my mother who shot some BBs in his PP with her crippled arthritic fingers. Is she still asleep?”

“As far as we know.”

“She can get some dingers of a migraine. They’re getting worse with age.” He barked a laugh. “As Dad used to say, ‘If you’re ever in a fight, by damn, you want her on your side. She’s a helluva pistol.’ ”