Huck Page 4

  The flashing lights.

  The misfirings they caused in the brain.

  I had a split second of panic about being close to the water before I didn't know anything else.

  Except finally coming to.

  With Huck's arms around me.

  Chapter Four

  Huck

  I felt like a dick watching her.

  She was just sipping a drink, bullshitting with Ayanna, splashing her feet in the water. There was no reason to assume she was here for any other reason than returning one of Remy's dogs.

  But McCoy's paranoia had been rubbing off on me, making me dig deeper and deeper into our neighbor, coming up with next to nothing other than her connection to her little brother, and the fact that her step-father was from an old money family.

  She was mostly private on her personal social media accounts, but from what I could tell, her friends were all just random men and women she had lived near before moving all the way out to Golden Glades.

  I could never figure out why she'd moved, what was the draw to the area. Especially without a car. There seemed to be no connections in the area.

  And when there were more questions than answers, you had to be a bit suspicious.

  Still, it made me feel like a creep.

  I was just about to walk off, go find something else to do, when I saw it.

  A tremor that turned into something more.

  Until her body was violently shaking.

  A seizure.

  The word formed in my head at the exact second her body lurched forward into the water.

  "Huck!" Ayanna screamed, already reaching out for Harmon, grabbing her convulsing body, trying to keep the two of them above water, and not doing a great job of it.

  The guests—the useless shits they were—all swam away rather than toward her to help.

  I was running before I even realized I'd told my body to do so, tearing across the stone around the pool, dropping down to my knees beside it, reaching outward toward Ayanna, grabbing Harmon from her, pulling her out of the water.

  "Put her on her side," Seeley, our only prospect so far, demanded, running up and dropping down near Harmon's head as I dropped her down, pulling off his cut to put under her head. "In case she throws up," he explained to me. There must have been a question in my eyes because he shrugged. "You don't want to know how many people I've seen OD," he explained, proving yet again how rough a life the kid had led.

  "Could someone have dropped something in her drink?" I asked, looking over at Ayanna, who had swum to the side of the pool, and was looking on with worried eyes.

  "No. I made it myself. She's been sitting here with me. You know me, no one could get that shit by me."

  That was true. Partly because of her own good sense, and partly because her man had hammered home how important it was to be aware—and therefore safe—in public, Ayanna missing some guy getting close enough to dose Harmon without her knowing seemed unlikely.

  "Maybe she just has seizures," Seeley suggested. "That video is trippy," he added, nodding toward the screen.

  It was then I became aware of the flashing lights. I probably never would have thought twice about them myself. But I wasn't someone who suffered from seizures, who knew anyone who did.

  "Anyone got any idea what we're supposed to do now?" I asked, looking around, seeing no answers on any familiar or foreign faces.

  "Looking it up," McCoy said, walking over while looking down at his phone. "I mean, we can call an ambulance."

  "She doesn't like being inside cars."

  "Don't think she would notice," Seeley reasoned.

  "Well, it says she will come out of it. Might be disoriented for a while. Headache, chills. Nothing too severe."

  My gaze slid to Ayanna, looking for her opinion. "She's not shaking anymore," she said, making my gaze move down to see she was right. "Maybe get her inside, away from all the prying eyes. Can't imagine she wants to wake up to being a spectacle," she added.

  "Right," I agreed, tucking my arms under her body, lifting her up, carrying her with me back into the house. "It's okay," I said when I noticed her gaze looking up at me, open, but unseeing. "You're alright. You had a seizure. We think," I added as I walked her through the crush of bodies on the first floor and up to the second, down the hall into the master.

  "You with me?" I asked, watching her slow blink up at me. "No? Not yet. Alright. I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to do right now," I admitted, taking her to the side of the bed, yanking down the comforter, and pressing her down onto it.

  "McCoy said you might be cold. Can't imagine the wet thing is helping," I mumbled to myself since I was pretty sure she still wasn't completely alert yet. "Hold up," I said, jumping up to run into the bathroom to grab some towels, coming back out to wipe the water off of her, wrapping one around her center to squeeze some of it out of the fabric, then drying her hair. "Still nothing, huh? How the hell long does this take?" I asked, feeling an unfamiliar sense of helplessness overtaking me as I leaned back against the bed, reaching to pull her over my lap, trying to wrap the comforter around both of us.

  "Huck?" she asked, voice small.

  "Yeah, babe," I agreed, relief rushing through my system, leaving me a bit frazzled from all the adrenaline. "You had a seizure," I added.

  "I figured," she agreed. "I'm wet."

  "And not the good kind," I agreed. "You fell in the pool. Thank fuck Ayanna was there to grab you before I got there."

  "I owe her flowers or candy or something."

  "She'd like that. You good? You need to go to the hospital?"

  "God, no. I just... I need to lay down for a while," she admitted.

  "Luckily, got a bed right here," I said, as she looked up at me. "I can get you something dry to change into, then you can hang here until you feel better."

  "I should go home."

  "Why?"

  "My head hurts," she admitted, and now that she mentioned it, the pain was clear in her eyes.

  "Party's over," I told her, shuffling her off my lap so I could get up, find her the clothes she needed, then help her stand up so she could change. "You got this?" I asked, waving to the clothes.

  "I, ah, yeah," she said, not sounding entirely convincing.

  I probably should have gone out, found Ayanna, brought her back to help, but it was easier just to reach down, grab the hem of her shirt, then drag it up and off, reaching for the sweatshirt I'd found for her, yanking it down over her body, and settling it into place.

  "Huck..." she said when my hands went to her shorts.

  "Nothing I haven't seen before," I reminded her, yanking her soaked shorts and panties down, holding her arm as she stepped out. "Step in," I demanded after I leaned down, and tried to ignore her pussy in my face as I went. "Alright. The bed is all yours. I am going to quiet shit down. Need anything?"

  "Something for my head."

  "Like?"

  "Whatever you have that is strongest," she said, crawling onto the bed, curling into herself, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes.

  "Okay. Be right back," I told her, rushing out, barking orders to fuck off, get lost, come back next weekend, then digging around in the cabinets to try to find the pain meds they'd given McCoy for his knocked-out tooth.

  "She alright?" Ayanna asked, changed into the dress she'd shown up in, sober as a judge from the whole ordeal.

  "She's got a headache. Just wants to lay down for a bit. Is Booker coming to get you?"

  "Yeah, he's on his way."

  "She says she owes you flowers or candy," I told her when I finally found the bottle of pills, still mostly full.

  "She's a nice girl. I don't know why you and McCoy were eyeing her like she was the enemy earlier. From what I can tell, she doesn't go anywhere or do anything. She does her videos and orders take-out. She doesn't plan big takeovers of the gun trade in the area."

  "Yeah. I'm starting to think that is likely the case."

  Even if she was convenie
nt, what crime boss would use an epileptic chick to do their information gathering for them? It wasn't like she could blend in easily if she was seizing and shit.

  "Maybe bring her some coffee," Ayanna suggested. "If she has a headache, caffeine helps."

  "Right," I agreed, going to make her a cup.

  "And Huck," she said when she heard her man coming in the front door. "Let the girl stay the night."

  "I might not be all warm and fuzzy, Ay, but I wasn't planning on kicking a girl out after she had an episode like that."

  "Woman, that's a good look on you," Booker, Ayanna's man, said as he moved into the kitchen. I'd known the man casually for years, and had never seen him in anything other than a suit, always looking put together. Booker was tall, fit, dark-skinned, and shaved headed, with keen eyes that seemed to cut right through you. He'd been in security for a while now, quickly building a name and reputation for himself.

  It was clear to everyone but him that Ayanna was getting a little sick of never seeing him. That said, she melted when he fed her an easy compliment.

  "You should see what I have on under it," Ayanna said, giving him bedroom eyes right in the middle of my kitchen.

  "I'll take her off your hands now," Booker said, giving me a nod.

  "Give Harmon my number when she's feeling better," Ayanna demanded, tucking under her man's arm as he led her out of the house.

  I took the coffee and pills upstairs, grabbing a comforter off the bed in our spare bedroom, then going back into mine.

  "Found the good stuff," I told Harmon as I came in the room.

  "God, you stomp everywhere you go," she grumbled, rocking, hands still pressed to her eyes. "It's like you have cinder blocks on your feet," she went on as I attempted to step more softly while I made my way across the room, putting down the mug, and shaking out a pill.

  "One or two?"

  "What kind of good stuff?"

  "The kind that can make you sleep or make you high," I told her.

  "One," she decided, holding her hand out.

  "I bought you coffee."

  "Thank you," she said, slowly pushing up, popping the pill in her mouth, then reaching for the coffee. "Can you turn the light any lower in here?"

  "I can turn it off completely, or I can put the bathroom light on so it just glows in here a bit.

  "Glow is good. I just need an hour or so, then I can go back home," she assured me.

  "You're staying.

  "No," she objected, leaning back against the headboard, head tipped back. "I'll be okay."

  "Yeah, 'cause you're keeping your ass here."

  "Huck, I—"

  "Thank me for my hospitality," I supplied for her, getting a small smile to pull at her lips. "Don't mention it, babe. Go on. Get some sleep. You're safe here."

  I didn't know right that moment that just two hours later, after Harmon had passed out, and I had filled in Remy about the events of the night after he'd taken off to his room with his animals... and three women, and I had finally crashed in the guest room, the house would be woken up by a familiar sound.

  Gunshots ringing out.

  I was awake and off the bed in a blink, adrenaline pumping through my system as I took a second to register what was going on.

  People could be crazy. Shooting off at nothing in the middle of the night.

  But this was too close. And just as that thought formed, I could hear the glass breaking downstairs.

  "Fuck," I hissed, rushing across the room. By the time I got to the hall, McCoy, Remy, and Che were already rushing out of their rooms, guns in hands. Mine was in my room.

  Where Harmon was.

  Fuck.

  "I need to secure Harmon," I said, not even waiting for a response as I flew into my room, finding Harmon awake, eyes wide, panicked, not sure what to do. "Come on," I said, grabbing her hand, dragging her into the bathroom. "Get in," I demanded, pushing her toward the tub. "Get in and stay low. I have to go and see what is going on. Don't move, okay?" I asked, wasting a precious moment waiting for her shock to wane enough for her to nod in agreement. "I'll be right back," I assured her, then turned and ran, shutting the door, grabbing my gun out of the nightstand, then rushing through the house.

  "Who was it?" I asked as McCoy and Seeley came back in from the front.

  "White four-door with a donut on the back left," Seeley supplied. "I couldn't make out any faces. It's dark as fuck tonight. I got an X on the license plate," he added, shrugging. "I know that's not much to go on."

  "It's more than we'd have if you didn't rush out there. Are you fucking hit?" I asked, seeing a splash of red on his neck.

  "It's nothing," he said, shaking his head, trying to brush it off.

  Before I could even move to check myself, McCoy was walking over, grabbing the neck of his shirt and yanking it wide.

  "We're going to need some tweezers and some alcohol," McCoy said. "Don't figure anyone knows how to sew, do they?" he asked, looking around. "Hospital means questions we don't want to deal with," he added as I came closer to get a better look.

  "Think one of us needs to take some basic battlefield first aid," Remy decided. "I'm gonna get you a shot or two," he added to Seeley.

  "I'm gonna go see what kind of supplies we have for something like this," I said, tucking my gun away.

  "What are you going to tell Harmon?" McCoy asked, brow raised.

  "Don't think anything but the truth will work. She's not stupid. That was an obvious drive-by," I said, shrugging, then heading upstairs.

  Harmon was where I left her, eyes just as huge, hand clutched to her chest.

  "It's alright," I told her. "They're gone."

  "That was a drive-by," she said, sitting up, but not getting out of the tub.

  "Yes."

  "They shot at the house."

  "That's usually what they do in a drive-by," I agreed, going into the drawers below the sink, looking for supplies, pulling out gauze and alcohol, but nothing that I could use to stitch Seeley up.

  "Is someone hurt?" Harmon asked, climbing out of the tub, moving toward me.

  "Yeah. Bullet in the shoulder. It's not bad. Just needs to come out."

  "And you don't think that maybe a doctor should handle it?"

  "Doctors mean questions and cops. You know how to sew?"

  "What? Because I'm a girl?" she asked, rolling her eyes at me. "I mean as much as I would like to say I am just as clueless as you guys seem to be, yes, I can sew. I mean, I'm no expert, but I can sew. But you can't exactly use a needle and thread on a man's skin."

  "Well, that's what we're working with," I told her, grabbing the supplies I'd gotten, and making my way through my room, down the hall, hearing Harmon following behind.

  "What are you looking for?" Che asked as I rummaged through the kitchen drawers.

  "Sewing kit. I know we have one somewhere. Gus had picked it up to help us sew patches on our cuts."

  "Oh, that's... yeah... that's a bullet," Harmon said, making a chuckle move through me as I looked over to see her leaning over Seeley, taking a look at the wound. "Yeah, um, I'm not sure I am the girl for this job," she added. "You don't even have any anesthesia or something to numb him."

  "Alcohol does wonders," Seeley declared, tipping back a bottle of vodka.

  "One of us will pull the bullet out," McCoy offered. "Then you can do the stitching."

  "That's not exactly comforting," Harmon said, chewing her lower lip.

  "You'll do fine," I assured her, finding the little plastic kit, moving toward her, pulling out the needle.

  "Oh, my God. Are you barbarians?" Harmon asked when I started to thread the needle. "You can't just take it out of the kit and stick it in his skin. It needs to get sterilized. Here," she said, holding out her hand. "I mean, you'd think if you were planning to become an outlaw biker, you'd brush up on basic first aid," she grumbled, putting a bowl of water in the microwave as she filled another with the alcohol I'd snagged from upstairs.

  "Did you find
any tweezers?" I asked, looking around.

  "Yeah, I have them for the dogs," Remy supplied, producing a set. "You know, for ticks. Before I found out the Tick Key existed."

  "Here," Harmon said, producing the steaming bowl of water. "Drop them in here," she instructed, putting the needle and thread in as well.

  "You're pretty calm," I declared as she dipped her hands in the alcohol, then switched the items from the water and into the alcohol as well.

  "It's pure adrenaline. It will all sink in later, I'm sure," she told me. "You have to promise me to take him to the doctor if it gets infected," she said, lowering her voice so Seeley couldn't hear. "I can't have it on my conscience that he died because of me. I mean, you owe me that," she added, giving me a snarky smile. "Since you got me involved in a drive-by and everything."

  "Well, I guess I can give you that," I agreed, dipping my fingers into the alcohol, grabbing the tweezers, then making my way over toward Seeley.

  "Take a breath," I told him, nodding toward McCoy who grabbed him from behind, steadying him a second before I dug my tweezers into Seeley's shoulder, wincing a bit at the howl he let out, leaving him gritting his teeth, gasping for breath as I dug around for a second before grabbing the bullet, yanking it free.

  "Okay. That's done," I said, reaching for the bottle of vodka again., not giving him a second to realize I wasn't giving him a drink, and pouring it into the wound. "Don't black out on me," I demanded, grabbing his chin, leaving blood there as I watched as his eyes rolled before focusing again.

  "Maybe you should have let him pass out," Harmon said, coming up beside me, wincing down at the wound.

  "He still might," I told her. "Might make your part easier," I added.

  "Hey, I'm sitting right here," Seeley responded, being a sport. Likely because he was half-bombed. "Least she's a prettier nurse than you," he added, looking over at me. "Probably has a better bedside manner too."

  "Go on, get this over with. We have some shit to do tonight," I said, watching as Harmon rolled her eyes at Seeley. "

  "You ready?"

  "To have your hands on me, honey? Always," Seeley said, giving Harmon a weak, but charming smile. If he wasn't so focused on making a good impression, trying to cement his chances of getting a patch, he would be rivaling Remy with the amount of pussy he gets.