Chapter 26

I’m fairly confident my last words will be ‘are you fucking kidding me?’

-Lark to Baylor

Lark

The problem with life is that it’s never fair.

I wanted life to be fair. I wanted veterans to get the help they needed. They put their lives on the line for our country, and what did they get in return for it?

PTSD and poor medical care. They had to jump through hoops to get that poor medical care. And the moment they were discharged from the military, they were forgotten.

Unless they made themselves impossible to be forgotten.

Baylor didn’t get hurt while on deployment like most of the soldiers currently in the same room with us, but he was a part of them.

I knew that the instant we walked into that room.

My eyes went wide at the people. Men. Women. Young. Old.

There was one young man, he couldn’t be much more than nineteen or twenty, missing both of his legs.

He had on prosthetics and was attached to some harness-like contraption holding him up between two parallel bars which he held onto in a death grip with both hands.

His face was red with exertion, but he had one of the biggest smiles I’d ever seen on a man’s face.

A sound took me away from that smile, and I found a young woman who was missing her left hand, her left foot and most of her hair. Her face was mangled and twisted congruent with burn scars, but the way she was smiling at a young man at her side showed that she was happy despite the disfigurement.

It was then and there I understood why Baylor volunteered there.

They needed him just like he needed them.

I also made a promise to myself that I would come with him on every visit that I could from then on.

“This place is big,” I managed to say.

“Lots of people come in and out of these doors. It needs to be big.”

I agreed.

I’d seen five people come and go in the short amount of time that we’d been standing there.

“What do you do?” I whispered.

“Talk,” he answered. “You want to wait here for me?”

He indicated the chairs next to the door, and I nodded my head. “I can do that.”

He winked at me and walked away, only turning to look back at me twice to make sure I’d followed directions.

I did.

I wouldn’t scare him like that.

My house had burned down on a Friday. It was now Thursday, nearly two weeks later, and I was glued to his side.

I now knew way more about the auto recovery business than I ever wanted to know, and I almost hated the fact that Baylor did that every day.

Just yesterday he’d taken me on a “routine” call. Only his routine call had ended with him wrestling with a fucking alligator in the backseat of a fucking Honda.

Yes, an alligator. In a Honda.

The icing on top of the cake had been the goddamn live chickens in the trunk. Which I assumed were for the alligator.

“You Baylor’s new chick?”

I turned to the man who'd taken a seat beside me. “I am.”

The man was old. He had a hat on that declared him a ‘Vietnam Vet’ and his shirt was crisp and starched. He was wearing slacks, a white shirt, and old man shoes.

His eyes were intent on me.

“I’m glad he finally found him a keeper. And that you brought him back here.”

My brows furrowed. “Back here?”

He nodded. “Haven’t seen him in two years. Since before his accident...hell, maybe even before his last deployment.”

My brows rose. “Everyone greeted him like he was an old friend.”

“Time has no bearing on friendship,” he said. “I haven’t seen my childhood best friend since before the war. We live eight states—two thousand miles—away from each other, but that doesn’t stop him from being my best friend.”

I smiled, a little bit humbled that he’d put me in my place so eloquently.

“I guess you’re right. I never much thought about it.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes, him watching me, and me watching the room.

I knew he had something on his mind, so I waited for him to say it.

“You married?”

I blinked and then nodded at the old man. “I am,” I confirmed. “Baylor and I got married a few weeks ago.”

I couldn't keep the cheesy grin off my face as I told him that.

It never got old, letting people know I was Baylor’s.

What did get old? Hearing what the old man had to say next.

“Never thought that boy would settle down.” He shook his head. “Was a wild one, Baylor was. Before his accident, I would’ve said he’d never do it. Watching him now is like watching a different person.”

I didn't know what to say to that.

I didn't know the Baylor of before. I knew the Baylor now. And the Baylor now was awesome, sweet, protective, and caring.

The old Baylor was in the past. Just like Rita was.

“So, what do you do here?” I changed the subject.

The old man seemed to humor me on the subject change, and I was grateful.

I didn’t like thinking about the past. And I definitely didn’t like thinking that Baylor wasn’t the same kind of man that he was now.

Which was kind of hard to think about seeing as everyone that Baylor introduced me to had the same thing to say.

Apparently, the Hail boys were beyond wild. They were crazy. They did stupid things and came out alive on the other end. The town also loved them. Who knew?

Probably I should have, but whatever.

“I’m not sure any of us really do anything, per se,” he said. “I come up here once a week to rehab the old shoulder. If I don’t, it gets stiffer than a board and I can’t help Merriam do a damn thing around the house.”

“Is Merriam your wife?”

He nodded. Then shrugged.

“Kinda but not really.”

My eye twitched. “What does kinda not really mean?”

If this man said he was with a woman but cheating on her, I was getting up and leaving.

“We never got around to the actual marriage thing. We’ve been living together for going on forty years...we had kids. It never seemed like the right time.”

“Have you asked her if she wants to get married?” I was curious now.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “Technically we’re common law married, and in the eyes of her government, that's good enough.”

“But in your eyes?”

He smiled, his wrinkly skin going up and down with the quick movement. “It’s never been good enough. I’ve wanted to have that woman wear my ring since I was a baby grunt going into the Army. Nothing would make me happier than to have her agree to marry me.”

“Then do it.”

“I can’t. My Merriam...she's dying. They don’t expect her to have much more than six weeks with how fast the tumor is growing.”

My heart dropped.

Life was so unfair sometimes.

“That's awful.”

And it was.

So, so awful.

I reached out and placed my hand on his. “Maybe this is the most perfect time to do it.”

His shimmery with tears eyes came up to meet mine. “You’re extremely easy to talk to.”

With that he got up and left, leaving me alone to do nothing but contemplate my existence.

I watched him until he shuffled out the front door, and even further until he was out of my line of sight.

“I see you met Buck.”

I looked up to find Baylor staring at me with a grin on his face.

“He said you were a bad kid and wild child before you met me.”

Baylor grinned. “I never claimed to be a saint.”

I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t know you were such an open sinner, though. I might have rethought my options.”

He snorted. “I highly doubt that.”

I shrugged. “You were quite charming.”

At that, he burst out laughing. “I’ll have to remember that next time we...”

His mouth closed as something beyond my head caught his attention.

My back was to a bank of windows, and beyond the windows was the parking lot.

I started to turn, my stomach already churning, and gasped when I saw what he was staring at.

“Does he have a sword?”

It took me a few long moments to figure out that the sword-bearer was also my ex, but my eyes were transfixed on the fucking sword he had in his hand to move up to his face.

And when I did, my belly instantly soured even more.

“Oh, shit.” I looked at Baylor with concern. “Can we call the cops?”

Baylor shook his head. “No. It’s legal to carry a sword in Texas.”

“Since when?”

My voice sounded several octaves higher than normal.

“Since September first.”

That came from another man. One I hadn’t realized came up behind us until now.

He was the same man that I'd seen when we came in. The one with no legs.

This time he was using crutches, and he wasn’t smiling.

He was watching the parking lot with a wary expression.

“When I was first deployed, I didn’t have that sixth sense yet,” he said. “I didn’t get that feeling of impending doom until I had been there for a few months. That little blip on my radar is going ninety to nothing telling me that something’s going on.”

I agreed.

My “blip” was going off, too.

But Sal just sat there, staring at the window, waiting for I didn’t know what.

“He’s waiting for me.” I must’ve muttered that last sentence aloud because Baylor answered.

“How do you know he’s not waiting for me?”

Baylor squeezed my hand and started to walk outside.

“Baylor, what are you doing?”

He didn’t answer, just continued to walk.

I started to get nervous. Oh, and angry.

I moved forward like I was shot out of a cannon.

“Seriously.” I caught Baylor’s shirt between my fingers and squeezed. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to go talk to him.”

He said it so carefully that I knew he was being cautious of my feelings while also trying not to snap.

I swallowed thickly.

“Are you sure that’s...wise?”

He gave me a sardonic look.

“I’ll be back.”

He pulled away from me effortlessly, and I was left grasping nothing but air. When I went to follow, Baylor looked at the man behind me.

“Pace, you think you can keep her here?”

Pace, the man with no legs, caught onto my arm with a surprisingly strong grip.

“Give him a minute, sweetheart.”

I bit my lip, debating whether to do the dirty thing and unbalance him with a shove. He’d surely fall and that would make me a jackass.

But Baylor was out there. With my ex. Who had a goddamn sword.

“You wouldn't push over a double amputee, would you?”

I bit my lip.

“You’re thinking it. I can see it in your eyes.”

He sounded amused by the prospect. Which immediately made me feel like crap.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” he said.

His eyes went wistful for a moment, then went dead altogether.

My eyes roamed over his face.

He was gorgeous. Really. Model perfect if it wasn't for the short, trimmed beard.

His eyes were the color of champagne. Such a light greenish brown that it was almost hard to look at him.

His hair was cut close to his scalp and looked to be a shade of dirty blonde, but it could also be a sandy brown.

He had tattoos on his hands, but nowhere else that I could see.

“Are you checking me out?”

“Your eyes are weird,” I blurted.

He snorted and looked away from me, his attention catching on something outside. Something my attention should’ve been on, too. Yet there I was looking at this man’s eyes and thinking how pretty they were while my man was in danger.

I was such a bad wife!

I moaned and turned, my eyes taking in the scene all at once.

My quick movement made the man at my back sway, but he didn’t go down.

Which was a good thing because I wouldn’t have caught him.

I couldn’t have. Not because he was muscular and huge, but because he was not my top priority.

The man currently squaring up with my ex was.

I was happy to notice that he wasn’t in striking distance, thank God.

He was, however, standing there staring at my ex who had a damn sword strapped to his back.

Which was terrifying in and of itself.

But they were talking, which made my heart rate slow.

Not enough to bring it down out of tachycardia, but enough that I wasn’t worried my heart would break with the strain.

“Think this is about to go down?” Pace asked, still, might I add, holding onto my arm.

“My ex is a bad person,” I said. “And when I say bad, I mean he’s awful, and I wouldn't wish him on any woman. Even one that slept with my ex and rubbed it in my face.”

“That happened?”

I shrugged. “She didn’t outright say it, but it was implied. And me not being in the position to nay say Sal ever, I couldn't say a word. I just had to live with the fact that he was loose with his dick.”

He made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat.

Still, we watched.

Nothing happened.

At least, not until he pulled a gun from his shirt and pointed it at me.

Before I could so much as duck, Pace had me on the ground.

For such a big man, who was also on crutches, he was fast.

***

Baylor

Seeing her out of the corner of my eye go down, knowing she was now safe, I waited for what was going to happen next.

Would he aim the gun at me next?

He answered that question in the next moment. But it wasn’t me he turned the gun on. It was the old man that was walking back up to us, clear determination in his eyes.

Buck was fast, but not fast enough.

Before he could so much as blink in surprise, he had a gun in his face.

“Uhhh,” Buck murmured. “Is there something I’m missing?”

Buck’s Vietnam Vet hat was askew as he stared at the both of us.

“I called the cops!”

Sal snorted.

“That’s nice.”

I thought so, too.

Maybe with this whacko getting the attention of the local PD, he’d get the fuck out.

Only, when the cops showed, they smiled at Sal like he was their long, lost brother.

“What’s going on?”

I didn’t know this police officer.

He was younger and had obviously just been hired on.

There’d been a lot of shit going down at the police station over the last year.

One cop had been dirty and had tried to kill a friend of mine—which happened to be his own brother. While another had been brought up on charges by the Texas Rangers.

The department was still under investigation, and it was more than obvious that their hiring skills were still in the gutter.

Especially when I learned what I learned next.

“You off duty today?” the other cop asked Lark’s ex.

“No,” Sal answered. “I stopped a robbery in process. This old man tried to take this other man’s truck. Luckily, I was here to stop it.”

It took Buck a few long moments to figure out that the ‘old man’ that Sal was talking about was him and when he did his back stiffened.

“Listen here, boy,” Buck snarled, his jowls swaying with the anger that was coursing through him. “I did no such thing. I was only walking through the parking lot.”

Sal sneered.

“Sure, and that’s why I saw you going through his truck.”

I caught on really quick and inwardly I smiled.

“I sent him out to my truck to get me something,” I explained.

Sal’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m not pressing charges,” I continued. “Because he didn’t do anything wrong. You can run the surveillance video if you’d like.”

The other cop looked around the gathering, his brows furrowed.

“Sorry, Sal,” the cop apologized. “Why do you have a sword?”

That’s what I wanted to know, too.

And why would it take the stupid rookie fifteen minutes to realize what was going on? Why wouldn’t that be the first thing he’d ask?

“Confiscated it from a traffic stop,” Sal said. “Illegal to carry a blade over…”

“Actually,” Buck stepped into the gun that was still pointed at him. “It’s legal as fuck to carry a sword in Texas now. As of September first, as a matter of fact.”

Sal faltered, his confusion evident.

“This is Texas, boy.” Buck chuckled. “We do things a little different down here.”

Sal lowered his gun, finally, and shot the old man an angry glare.

The other officer finally realized that Sal was acting weird, which made the officer jittery.

“Um, Sal?” the officer said. “How about we go?”

And he did just that.

Sal walked with the cop to the side of the cruiser, and Buck turned to me.

“What the fuck?”

I’d never heard Buck curse before, but I guess there was a first time for everything.

“I don’t even know,” I admitted. “I…”

“No!”

It was the agonizing scream that had me looking up, and wishing I’d paid a little more attention than I had.

***

Lark

I was barely peeking over the edge of the window when I saw Sal walk away with the officer.

“Thank God,” I breathed, standing up.

The cop and Sal were talking, but it didn’t look like the cop was worried about Sal.

“Nobody questions that there is a fucking sword strapped to his back?” I breathed, angry that the cop wasn’t trying to do anything.

I was seriously worried, and I wasn’t even the slightest bit aware of what was coming out of my mouth.

“No,” Pace said what I already knew. “I’ve seen four or five people since then carrying them.”

Pace.

Jesus.

I was free at least, which was why I started walking toward the front door.

But, as I got there, I saw something different than what I’d seen in the window.

“Baylor,” I breathed.

Then, as if in slow motion, Sal started to stomp to where Buck and Baylor were standing.

Neither one of them were paying attention.

I watched in silent horror as Sal reared back and caught hold of the sword that was on his back. I just knew that Sal’s intentions weren’t to scare Baylor.

They were to hurt him.

I screamed.

I wasn’t aware that I’d screamed, but I did.

My voice carried and seemed to bounce off the walls of the larger buildings on either side of the rehab facility.

Baylor’s head snapped sideways, first following the sound of my voice to where I was standing in the doorway, and then to the man that was bringing his sword up and around in a deadly arc.

Though the horror was there that Buck was about to get sliced with this sword, it wasn’t at DEFCON one yet, thanks to it not being Baylor that sword was headed toward.

But then Baylor, my fucking hero, tackled Buck sideways to save him, and Buck went flying.

Leaving Baylor wide ass open for Sal’s blade to slice into him.

The minute it touched his skin, right across the flat plain of his belly, blood sprayed.

My keening wail was heard by all, I was sure.

My knees buckled.

Gunshots were heard.

Sal dropped the sword.

Buck got up on his elbows, a big black gun in one meaty fist, eyes wide and fearful—just as confused as the rest of us.

Baylor went down.

I started running.

The police officer finally got his shit into gear, and he yanked the gun from Buck’s hands.

Buck obviously gave it willingly.

Even though Buck was old, I highly doubted that he’d give up his firearm unless he’d wanted to.

I found myself moving without conscious thought.

I was sprinting directly for the man that held my heart.

My husband.

My best friend.

My soulmate.

The police officer tried to push me away, to stop me from going to Baylor, but I shoved him and he fell back.

He landed on his ass in a pool of blood that was gathering around Sal’s body.

Sal was alive and glaring at me, his hand covering a wound on his belly.

I didn’t spare him a second glance.

I just didn’t care.

I was so angry.

So, pissed off.

So, fucking broken.

“Oh, God.”

I looked down at my man, who was lying on the ground, his hands covering his stomach, and breathing shallowly.

I could see his intestines.

I could see his intestines!