The Terms of Release (15 page)

“You want to know something?” Sage spoke, voice so quiet. “I never got to go into a bar and have a beer. Never. These assholes hate me, and I… shit, man. I was a kid. I was a stupid kid.”

“I know.” God knew, Angel had been the king of stupid. They all had been, back then. “I don’t know why they have to be this way, babe.”

“Because someone has to pay. That’s human nature. Shit, Jesus had to pay, and I ain’t even sure the gates of Heaven would open to me.”

Christ.

Christ, how did a man live like that?

“Win?” Tiff called to them, and he took Sage’s arm and led him to the back. She smiled at them when they got there. “Hey, we got the bullet out. She’s got some muscle damage, and we have her on fluids and antibiotics. We’ll have to keep her crated here for a few days to keep her as still and quiet as we can.”

“But she’s going to be okay?” Sage knelt by the crate, touching Penny’s nose. “Hey, girlfriend. Why’d you go get shot, huh?”

“She’s going to be fine. I don’t think she’ll even have a limp.”

Poor Penny was pretty out, her tongue hanging long, her eyes a little crusty. She wagged a tiny bit when Sage talked to her, though.

“Good girl. You sleep. I bet Momma comes in with chicken for you tomorrow, huh?”

Tiffany rolled her eyes but smiled. Win grinned. Ellen would do that. Stewed chicken and rice. Win could remember his mom doing that for a pup they’d had when he was a kid.

“Let me get your information, and I hate to do it, but we’ll have to talk money too.”

Sage didn’t so much as wince. He nodded. “How much?”

“It’ll be four hundred tonight, then another two when you pick her up.”

“Okay.” Sage patted his back pockets, then blinked. “I didn’t even get my wallet. I’m good for it. I’ll come in the morning with a check.”

“Of course.” Tiff nodded firmly. “A friend of Win’s is a friend of mine.”

Sage nodded. “You want me to sign something saying I’ll be back?”

She gave Sage a long look. “I see how you care about this dog. You’ll be back.”

“I will. In the morning.” Sage wrote down his name, address, and phone number in his tiny square perfectly neat handwriting. “I told you her name is Penny, right?”

“You did.” She scribbled out a bill, and while Sage was tucking it away, Win gave her a couple of twenties.

“Have supper on us, okay?”

“You got it. Take him home. Get him a stiff drink and a shower.”

Right, like his Sage touched alcohol. A shower they could do, though.

“I’ll see you in the morning, ma’am. Thank you for everything.”

Tiffany smiled at Sage, obviously charmed. “We’ll take good care of her.” Tiff waved, locking up behind them.

“You want to head back or stop at the car wash and clean up the truck?”

“Better get your truck clean before everything sets in the upholstery.”

“You okay?” He put a hand on Sage’s shoulder, needing to feel that warm, live body.

“No, but I will be. You?”

“I’m glad everyone is going to make it.” And his hands were shaking. God, he could do a murder-suicide scene without blinking, but hurt someone he cared about, and reaction set in fast.

Sage nodded, stood, and took his keys. “Come on. Let’s get the truck cleaned and stop at the Village Inn.”

“Sounds good.” They needed some food, some fat and carbs. Then he needed to take Sage home.

It was a little odd to have Sage put him in the passenger’s side, start his truck, and drive off. Win felt like he should be the one in charge, instead of the one with the goose bumps and chattering teeth. What the fuck was wrong with him?

“Breathe, Win. I’ll get you a Coke at the car wash. It’ll stop it.”

“Stop what?” He stared out the windshield, trying to keep his shit together.

“You got the shock. The sugar and caffeine’ll help.”

“I don’t fall apart in emergencies.” He didn’t. He was a cop. Of course, he’d never been in love before.

“Course you don’t. Bodies are silly things.”

“They are.” If Sage was going to keep it light, so was he.

“When I was inside and things….” Sage’s lips twisted. “…got intense, my body would just freak out. If I had the cash, I’d get a Coke from the commissary.”

Oh. Oh God, he didn’t want to think about that. “My mom always wants chocolate.”

“I bet chocolate works, but there aren’t any bubbles.”

“No. Just sugar and fat.” Win felt better already, his hands getting steadier. He’d take that Coke, though.

“And peanut butter. The best ones have peanut butter.”

“You like a Reese’s?” He would remember that. Hell, Win’s mom made an astounding peanut butter pie. She couldn’t cook for shit, but she could make dessert.

Sage made a yummy noise, and damn, that eased the tension, made the stress pop.

Win found himself grinning. “Well, I know what to get you for Halloween.”

“I got you a bag of them lemonhead deals.”

“Yum. Sour.”

“I saw that you had a wrapper in your truck.”

He chuckled. “Caught, huh? They keep me awake when I’m on a long shift, between the sugar and the tang.”

“I bought a whole bag.”

“You’re good to me.” And wasn’t it amazing to see Sage doing something like that for him when all this crazy shit was going on?

They pulled into the car wash, and Sage killed the engine. “Well, sure. I love you.”

And Sage got out of the truck, put a dollar in the machine, and started cleaning his truck. Win sat there with his teeth in his mouth for a long time. Well, it felt like a long time, but it must have been maybe a minute. Sage loved him.

Christ. They were a pair.

What the hell was he supposed to say to that?

Of course, Sage got him out of the passenger seat, handed him a Coke, and started cleaning the inside, so he didn’t have to say a word.

Win stood there sipping his drink and feeling like an utter perv for watching Sage’s butt while he bent over to scrub the truck seat. He felt totally off his game, like the world had tilted on its axis.

“You feeling better?” Sage grabbed some paper towels and started drying.

“I am. Thanks.” He looked at his hand, which held the empty Coke bottle. “The Coke was perfect.”

“Come back to the ranch with me?”

“Hell, yes.” He would take Sage to his place, which was closer, but they needed to check on Ellen and Sam and Rosie.

“Good.” Sage looked at him. “Let’s go. It’s late.”

“It is.” He held out his hand, intending to take the keys.

“You sure? I don’t mind driving.”

“I’ll let you, then.” He trusted Sage. He touched Sage’s arm before climbing into the truck on the passenger side.

Sage got them both another Coke, then found some country music on the radio as they headed down the road. Win just sat, staring out the windshield, wondering what the hell was wrong with him. Maybe he’d finally cracked a little.

Maybe he needed a good night’s sleep and to have something not happen for a few days. Too bad tomorrow was Halloween.

Win had a bad feeling that there would be no rest for the wicked tomorrow night.

“A
NOTHER
CUP
of coffee, honey?” Wilma was pale as milk, and Sage hated that.

“Nope. We’re good.” He had been too. Sitting here since five, watching everything and eating a piece of pumpkin pie. He’d worn his ass out today—hitting the pawn shop to pay off Penny’s vet bill and fix his window, deal with his hysterical momma, and make sure the gate was shored up.

He was dragging ass.

Wilma summoned a smile for him. She was a good woman, but her worry about him being her protection for the evening showed in her eyes. Bulldog had been the only one who was confident. “You kick some ass if you need to, son,” he’d said.

He would. No way he’d let anyone down today. He turned his coffee cup around and around, listening to everything going on.

Rick and Lena were the last customers and they left at seven thirty, and Sage got to work helping with the cleaning up. He knew tonight Wilma would want him to mop, so he started stacking chairs.

“You’re a good man, Sage Redding.” Wilma’s voice was soft and fond, and he didn’t know what to say.

“Thank you, ma’am. I try.” Sage’s cheeks heated and he ducked his head, working to get everything done.

By eight o’clock, Marisol, the cook, was ready, and Sage headed out with her and Wilma, telling himself that he had this. Nothing was going to happen.

Wilma looked left and right when they stepped outside, relaxing a little when no one appeared. The lot looked quiet.

“Come on, ladies, let’s go. Miss Wilma, I’ll follow you home.”

Headlights headed for them, loud music blaring out. His shoulders tensed up around his ears, and he herded Wilma and Marisol toward their cars, wanting a barrier between them and the road.

“Get in your truck, Sage.”

“I will, ma’am. Once y’all are in. They’ll drive by.” He had a baseball bat in the bed of his truck, and this time he would use it. He wasn’t going to let anyone hurt these ladies.

Wilma bit her lip but nodded, sliding into her sedan.

The Jeep pulled into the parking lot, and the ladies both started their cars as Sage headed for his truck, one hand dipping into the bed and finding wood. “We’re closed, boys.”

“We’re not looking for food, asshole.” One of the rednecks hopped out of the Jeep.

“I don’t even know you, son, and I ain’t looking for trouble. I’m here to help the ladies get home.”

“You may not be looking, buddy, but you got it.” He knew the knuckle dragger who came at him around the other side. A friend of his soon-to-be ex-brother-in-law.

“Goodie. Well, if you insist, bring it on. I got plans.”

“Sage….” Wilma came up to him, Marisol right behind her. “You boys get out of here. I’ve called 911.”

The big guy bared his teeth and made to grab Wilma, laughing as she backed off. “Pretty girls you’re protecting. Shame that Bulldog left them with just you. Kill a fag, get the deposit, and fuck the broads. Great night, huh, Charlie?”

“You know it, Jake. I’ll take the beaner. You get the biker’s bitch.”

Sage shook his head, watching this particular two-headed snake, trying to figure which head was smarter, if one had more venom than the other. Jake was bigger, less drunk, if the swaying told a true story, but Charlie had that snake-mean look to him.

“Not going to happen, but Miss Wilma’s done called the police. You ass hats best hurry, if you’re fixin’ to.” He knew Wilma’d call Adam, but that worked for him.

He’d thought about this all day, and he’d been worried, real worried, that he’d be scared or frozen or something, but he wasn’t. A man couldn’t take it forever, and it was his place to protect the ladies. He’d promised. Besides, two rednecks against a real cowboy?

Shit, that wasn’t fair to those stupid fucks.

The big guy, Jake, took a swing, a sucker punch, and Sage ducked it, catching the stupid fucker in the nuts with the bat, hard enough that Big Boy gave a breathy scream and went down, fingers scrabbling at Sage’s boots. It took one hard stomp, and all those little bones in one hand snapped. It felt good, better than it should have, to take back some of his own.

Charlie stared at him with bloodshot eyes, the scent of whiskey on the air making Sage gag. “That was a low blow.”

Sage shrugged and hefted the bat, the weight solid, comforting. “All’s fair, asshole. You’re up to the plate.”

Jake grabbed at him again, and he kicked, hard, his toe connecting.
Come on. Come on, you fucks. I been needing this.

A little Saturday night special came out of Charlie’s jacket pocket, pointed at Sage’s head, and Sage snorted. “Oh, honey. You think those worry me? What’s your damage, carrying a girl’s piece?”

The bastard opened his mouth to answer. Sage swung, and the bat connected with Charlie’s hand. The man’s arm swung wide, the bullet ricocheted off the asphalt, and the pistol skittered under his truck.

“You missed.” He swung from the other side, coming in low and catching the fucker in the belly, the sound a
thud
. The blow he delivered across Charlie’s kidneys when the kid bent over sounded a hell of a lot more like a
thwack
.

He could see the blue lights and hear the sirens, and Wilma came up to him and touched his arm. “Give me the bat.”

“What?”

“Give me the fucking bat, Sage. Now.”

He handed it over, confused as all get-out.

She gripped it, her mouth pressed tight together. “Assholes. This is my bat, right, Marisol? It came out of my car.”

Marisol nodded. “
Si, señora
. Is yours.”

“And I hit them because they came to steal the money.”

“
Si, si, señora
. And
Señor
Sage come to help us.”

“That’s right.”

Sage looked at them both, hating this, but hating the idea of a fucking jail cell even worse. “I’m lucky you carry that thing.”

“You bet.” Wilma spat on the ground next to Jake even as Adam pulled up in a cruiser.

Charlie tried to move, and Adam growled, but it was Marisol who kicked the man right in the face. “Call me a beaner,
cabrón
? You stay in the dirt.”

“Adam.” He nodded, just once. “Good timing.”

“I been staying as close as I can.” Adam grinned, then frowned down at Jake and Charlie. “Well, cousin, no end of surprise seeing you here.”

“He broke my hand, dude.”

“Who? Wilma, did you do this?”

Wilma nodded. “They were going to rob us, rape us. Thank God I had my bat in the car.”

If he wasn’t queer as a three-dollar bill and Wilma was twenty years younger or not married to the biggest baddest biker in eight counties who was working at being the best friend he’d ever had, Sage might have fallen in love with her, right then. Boom.

Win glanced at him, mouth kicking up on one side. “Marisol? That how it went?”

“
Si. Si, señor
. These is bad mans.
Señor
Sage, he sees and comes to
ayudeme
.”