A Cowboy's Home (15 page)

“Yeah, right.” Sam was disbelieving. “I’ll go
with you.”

Justin shoved at him, and Sam released his
hold. Justin snapped back and away from him, falling sideways on
the bed and groaning at the movement. For a while he cursed through
the pain but lay still, gripping his head with one hand, his thigh
with the other.

“What the fuck?” Justin snapped once his
breathing was back to normal.

Sam simply looked at him with what he hoped
was an implacable expression. “Ethan is coming back. Your dad is
out there somewhere, and he and Adam know.”

“I heard,” Justin snapped. “I fucking know
that.”

He rolled to the left a little, putting
weight on his wound, and he swore and spluttered through the
process of standing up. Shakily he managed to get upright at least,
although he took so long about it that in an instant, Sam got
between him and the bathroom door.

“Leave the door open,” Sam said.

“No. Where’s the gun?”

“In the drawer.” Sam indicated the unit, and
Justin limped around the bed, opening the drawer and pulling out
the weapon. With smooth movements that belied the fact he had an
infection and a possible concussion, he checked the bullets and
held the gun with practiced ease.

Sam wasn’t the biggest fan of guns; his dad
had a huge collection in a special display unit for firearms, one
of the last things Sam saw when he was being kicked out of the
house, given the guns were on display in the last room off the
entrance hall. Not to mention that one of those guns had been
removed and pointed at Bryan to get him to leave the property.

Justin didn’t point his gun at Sam, but he
did keep hold of it as he stumbled past Sam on his way to the
bathroom, cursing under his breath the whole way. Words like
asshole
,
bastard
,
fucker
, and quite a few
others Sam hadn’t heard since he watched the last season of
Game
of Thrones
.

Justin shut the door, though, but luckily the
bathroom window opened onto where Gabe was sitting, so he guessed
Justin wouldn’t be climbing out anytime soon.

Sure enough, Justin used the bathroom and
soon came out. “I’m going now.”

“Ethan wanted you to stay here.”

“Do you know what it will do to Adam and my
dad if they talk to me? If they even get an ounce of what I’m
holding inside? After all this time?”

Sam considered the question even as Justin
made to move past him. Sam stepped in front of him, and Justin
bumped into him enough that the gun was pressed between them.
Justin jumped back as if he’d been burned, then stumbled when all
his weight balanced on his bad leg. He fell back against the wall,
his reaction implying the pain was much worse than it had been a
few hours before. None of it was good.

“I think they’ll be relieved,” Sam finally
said after Justin found his center with the aid of the wall to hold
him up. At least Sam hadn’t reached for Justin. Clearly the last
thing he needed at the moment was to be touched.

“They’ll be sickened,” Justin snapped. “And
they’ll be in danger, so I’m going. And this time I will shoot you
to get past.”

Sam tilted his head a little, staring right
into Justin’s eyes. “And Gabe. You’d have to shoot Gabe, and of
course, Ethan, when he catches up with you, because you can’t walk
properly.”

Justin deliberately pushed himself away from
the wall. “I can walk,” he lied.

Sam stepped into his space and pressed gently
near the wound on Justin’s thigh. Then he held Justin when he
doubled over. “Yeah. Right.”

“You fucking asshole,” Justin snapped,
breathing harshly with pain that evidently wasn’t
easing
however much he seemed to be attempting
to get himself under control.

“You try and leave, and I will call the
cops,” Sam threatened. “Maybe there’s a reward on the warrants out
for you? I could get a new bike.”

He was teasing, but Justin was evidently past
seeing that.

“And I’ll shoot them all,” Justin snapped.
Despite the fact he was finding standing difficult, he appeared to
be able to throw sarcasm into the mix. He held up the gun and
pointed it at Sam. “You don’t get it, do you? I shouldn’t have come
home.” His eyes were a little glazed; he pressed the fingers of his
free hand to his temple.

Sam moved sideways, a little out of range of
the gun. Justin wasn’t steady on his feet. Then he took the weapon
gently from the disoriented Justin, and helped him back to the bed.
Sam assisted him in getting under the covers and felt his head.
Justin was burning up again, and he closed his eyes.

And that was it: he was gone.

For a few seconds, Sam watched him, seeing
the rise and fall of his chest, reassured at that if not anything
else. Maybe he shouldn’t have poked him in the thigh.

“Sam?” Justin called him from the bed. “I
think… I’m gonna….”

Sam didn’t quite reach him in time as Justin
hung half out of the bed and was sick on the floor. None of it
reached Sam, and he changed course to come at Justin from behind,
supporting his limp body and calling for Gabe.

Gabe came in, took one look at the situation,
and shook his head. “Jesus, Sam.”

Sam didn’t answer. He did his best to clean
Justin while avoiding the mess on the floor and making sure Justin
was back in bed. Dizziness, sickness, was that just him riding a
concussion? And was it just Sam’s imagination, or was the wound on
his thigh even redder?

He hoped to hell Aaron
was
coming,
because if someone didn’t get here soon, Sam was shoving Justin on
his bike and taking him out of there. Assassins waiting in dark
corners be damned.

Sam wiped the floor with the cleaning
supplies from under the sink, and pushed the bucket he used into
the bathroom to deal with later. He didn’t want to take his eyes
off Justin for long. Something about him made Sam protective and
angry all at the same time.

“Aaron is about thirty out,” Gabe announced,
his phone in his hand. “He’s visiting privately, no record of
it.”

Justin groaned in the bed, his eyes closed
and his breathing shallow. Restless and ill, he kept reaching for
something, but Sam didn’t know what. The gun, probably. The gun Sam
had put back in the drawer.

Sam didn’t know what was worse, Aaron being
thirty minutes away or Marcus and Adam being two more added to the
list of people who knew Justin was there.

But whatever he thought, Justin needed him,
and Sam scrambled onto the bed, taking up position next to Justin
and encouraging him to lay his head in Sam’s lap. When Sam massaged
his head and tugged his hair, it settled Justin immediately.

Sam waited for the inevitable questions and
anger to wash over Justin from everyone who wanted a piece of him.
And although he couldn’t figure out exactly why, he knew he
wouldn’t be moving.

“Justin?” The voice was breaking into his
dream. That was new, as well. “It’s Aaron. I’m here to help…. Hey,
Justin, can you open your eyes?”

No.

“My name is Aaron.”

No.

“Listen to my words, Justin. Can you hear me?
Can you open your eyes?” the voice continued.

Who the fuck is he talking to?

“I need to get some fluids into him and check
the wound. Fuck, who dug that bullet out?”

“You don’t think he did it himself, do
you?”

“Fuck knows. Pass me my bag. This is
ridiculous. He needs help I may not be able to give him.”

There was some movement and more talking.

“What is your full name, Justin? Can you tell
me? Do you remember me from school? Aaron Carter?”

The voice was
asking so many questions.
School? He’d never dreamed about
school before. He’d never finished it, not past sixteen.
“Aaron?”

“Hey, buddy, good to see you. Can you keep
your eyes open? Justin? Come on, let’s get some antibiotics and
fluids into you sorted out.”

The words faded away and the buzzing in his
head intensified, and then it was blissfully silent as he blacked
out again.

Justin felt himself move back into the room,
not from on high in an out-of-body experience kind of way, but in
that slow way when you wake up and begin to realize people are
talking to you, about you, around you.

“…Remains of the bullet. I’ll come back in
the morning.”

“Thank you for coming here, for doing
this.”

Justin recognized Ethan’s voice. And then an
older voice said some words, but they were distant. They sounded
like thanks, maybe. Justin made sure to keep his eyes shut so that
no one spoke to him, because what the hell could he say?

Ethan was talking to someone else, asking
questions, passing over information; he could be on the phone
because no one in the room was answering.

Then Sam’s voice. “Concussion?”

“I want it on record that you’ll get him to
the hospital.”

That’s Aaron.

Sam sounded a little desperate. “I want to
give it at least a day.
He seems so
scared.
Can we do that?”

“He needs an MRI if he does have a
concussion,” Aaron warned.

“I know. Just, can we wait until he wakes up
and we’ll talk to him?”

Aaron sighed noisily. “I don’t feel right not
telling Ryan. He’s not just the sheriff, he’s my brother. He should
know.”

Aaron Carter, the sheriff’s older brother.
The name came with a face in his memories.
I remember
him.

“No involving him yet,” Ethan said. “Please.
And if there’s fallout, then I’ll take the hit.”

Justin heard Ethan’s impassioned statement.
Thank you, big brother.

Sam kept on talking. “Please, Aaron, just
twenty-four hours.”

I’ll have to put my trust in Sam and Gabe,
and hope to hell Ethan keeps his cool. Too many people in danger
here…. Nothing I can do to help….

Sam took up his position on the bed. Justin
was sleeping again, or unconscious, and his leg was elevated on
pillows.

Aaron had sliced into the leg through pus and
blood, and finally eased out the smallest sliver of bullet. Aaron
said he’d seen that kind of thing before, when wounds were dealt
with by people with no experience. Clearly, Justin had dug the
bullet out, and a piece had shattered inside, and he’d left that
part behind. Aaron called it “battlefield medics,” and Sam was in
awe that Justin had somehow managed to get most of the bullet out.
Unfortunately, Sam had to stop himself from being sick as Aaron
expertly dealt with the resulting
gape
in Justin’s skin, stitching it a little and then
bandaging it. Sam tried to leave on several occasions, but each
time Justin gripped him, or lay on him, or just touched him, and
Sam couldn’t go.

Apparently it was now a waiting game, one
that Sam had decided he could best help by sitting exactly right
there.

Of course, that meant he also had to deal
with various others, who felt they didn’t want to leave Justin. His
dad and brother for two, who hovered and talked in low tones. None
of them seemed to have a problem with Justin clinging to Sam, or at
least no one said anything, and Sam was convinced he was right
about his earlier thought: the family needed that barrier between
Justin and themselves; they could handle the shock if they had
space.

Marcus was a hundred percent behind getting
Justin to a hospital, but Ethan came down very firmly on the side
of whatever Justin wanted, added to the whole “being wanted by the
law” and the witness protection issue that were primary
concerns.

Ethan had called his partner in Missoula to
try and find out what was on record, but between them they decided
that red flags would pop up if they opened active inquiries. So
they were stuck not knowing a thing.

Ethan said he’d give it some time, and if
Justin worsened, then he would be the first person to take him to
the closest medical help he could find.

“I don’t like it,” Marcus said for the
thirtieth time—or that was what it felt like to Sam.

He shifted a little, his forearm against
Justin’s hot skin. Aaron suggested the fever was part and parcel of
the infection and that time would tell. He was coming back with
other meds, and had rigged up a makeshift drip on the bed, which
fed into Justin’s body.

“Dad, we have to be patient.” Ethan was
trying to be the settling influence, but Marcus didn’t seem to be
listening.

“Where has he been?” Marcus slumped to the
chair, looking tired.

So many people were asking the same thing.
The same question had occurred to Sam, but he was more focused on
the here and now. After all, he hadn’t known the Justin from
before.

The shifts changed. Ethan, Adam, Marcus, Jay,
Gabe—all of them respectfully quiet but still talking over the same
questions. The only constant was Sam, who hadn’t left Justin’s side
for the longest time. He guessed it was because he didn’t have a
side in this battle of wills; he was just here for the
semiconscious man he’d found in a cabin.

“You can go if you like.” Ethan said to Sam
at just before ten. The absolute darkness beyond the window
underlined how late it was.

Sam decided that being held at the end of a
gun and looking out for the mysterious man who’d done that was
enough to keep him here. “I’m fine right here.”

Ethan looked torn. Right then it was just
Adam and him, along with Sam and Justin, of course. Adam looked
tired. Sam had caught him more than once pressing his fingers to
his temple. He suffered from headaches at times, and hell, this was
stress city.

“We’re taking the other bedroom,” Ethan said.
“If you need us.”

Sam nodded. He wasn’t leaving Justin, almost
felt tied to the man. “I’ll wake him like the doc said.”

Not that Aaron was a doctor as such, but he
was ex-Army, a field medic who knew his stuff, working as a
paramedic since then. Sam thought Justin was in capable hands, as
did Ethan. Only Marcus disagreed, but Marcus was still in
shock.