Blair bounced in time to the primal beat blaring over his headphones, dancing around the living room as he tried to break through the writer’s block that had been plaguing him. An off-beat noise paused him, but then he figured Matt from downstairs was complaining with a broom handle and kicked off his sneakers to keep dancing. A louder complaint surfaced and he grumbled to himself, but came to a halt, pulling off his headphones and going to the door so he could explain what he was doing to their neighbor.
A knock at the door just as his hand reached for the knob startled him into yanking his hand back. Peeking carefully out the peephole, Blair’s jaw dropped on seeing Travis being held in Beck’s arms like he weighed nothing. What shocked him, though, was that his friend was completely unconscious and the side of his face looked bashed in. Not that Beck looked all that hot with a busted nose and dried blood on his chin and shirt.
Blair opened the door and exclaimed, “What in hell happened to you guys?”
Beck took that as an invitation and strode into the loft. He went straight to the sofa and gently set Travis on it, asking, “Where’s your medical supplies?”
“I’ll get them,” Blair answered, jogging to the bathroom.
He silently blessed Jim’s mild OCD for having a fully stocked kit on hand in case of emergencies. Blair grabbed it and rushed back to where Beck had literally torn open Travis’ shirt, revealing a long, ugly gash covered by a makeshift bandage. Handing over the kit, he said, “I’ll call…”
“No!” Beck exclaimed, grabbing his arm. “Don’t call anyone! I’ll fix him up and we’ll get out of here.”
Blair winced at the painfully tight grip and finished, “Jim. I’ll call Jim.”
Beck let go of him and hesitated before saying, “Okay. Jim’s okay, just…don’t call anyone else.”
“I won’t,” Blair promised.
He watched for a few seconds as Beck efficiently began taking care of Travis, but then went to the phone and called Jim’s cell.
“Sandberg, I am not playing poker. It really is a stakeout,” Jim answered, a grin in his voice. “I swear. Just because you won last time…”
“Jim, stop. Um, Beck and Travis are here.”
There was a long pause before Jim asked, “Are you all right?”
Blair glanced at his already-bruising wrist but answered, “I’m fine, but Travis is hurt pretty bad and Beck doesn’t want to call anyone.”
“I’ll be home in twenty minutes.”
“Alone!” Beck snapped.
Jim echoed, “Just me,” and hung up.
Blair did the same thing and then turned back to Beck as he asked, “Can I help?”
“No, I got it,” Beck answered tersely.
He belatedly went to close and lock the door in case of nosy neighbors and then just stood watching, helpless, as Beck stitched up Travis’ side with a hell of a lot of sutures. And then twisted Travis’ arm until even Blair heard the crack of bones sliding into place. He shuddered in both sympathy and instinctive revulsion at the noise. Beck splinted the bone just as efficiently and professionally as he’d stitched up the knife wound.
Jim got home then and Blair met him halfway with, “No idea. Showed up just before I called you.”
Nodding, Jim walked over to Beck and asked, “Need some help?”
Beck shook his head and slowly climbed to his feet, wincing as he held his head. “Travis is all right for now, but I could use an icepack for the goose egg forming.”
Blair moved to get the gelpack in the freezer. He returned just as Jim realigned Beck’s nose, the grinding noise making his stomach turn. The gelpack went to the nose first, so Blair went back and got a bag of frozen peas, which he handed over. Beck switched the two, putting the gelpack to the top of his head and keeping the peas on his nose as he groaned in obvious pain and relief.
“Here, I’ll tape your ribs,” Jim offered.
Beck submitted to Jim fixing him up and that included broken ribs, stitching his head, splinting the nose, and digging a bullet out of his bicep. Blair kept the water boiling and clean bandages coming, knowing that they wouldn’t get answers until both men were taken care of. Maybe not even until the following morning, given the clear exhaustion dogging Beck.
When Jim finished, he said simply, “Take Blair’s old room. No exits, no windows.”
Beck sighed and commented, “Perfect, thanks. Here, hold these?”
Blair was, and wasn’t, surprised when Beck picked up Travis despite his own injuries. He knew that Jim would be the exact same way with him, were their positions reversed. Jim had told him about his suspicions on Beck being a Sentinel that same night when the four of them had met up at the museum. At the very least, the two men were lovers, but Blair was sure that Jim had the right of it.
Once they were settled and the flimsy door to his old bedroom closed, Blair turned to Jim and asked quietly, “What do you think happened?”
“No way to know until they tell us,” Jim answered, shrugging. “Something bad.”
Nodding, Blair was about to go make some tea to calm down when Jim hissed in anger and took his arm. The suddenness startled Blair and then he remembered the bruise. Before he could say anything though, Jim took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Deep breathing exercises had become routine for Jim with the high blood pressure that medicine and an altered diet did nothing for anymore.
When he looked calmer, Jim asked, “Beck?”
“He thought I was going to call the cops or an ambulance,” Blair confirmed. “I’m sure he didn’t realize his own strength.”
Jim wrapped his arms around Blair and breathed deeply again, this time with his nose buried in Blair’s hair. The curls were much shorter now, but just as prevalent and he hadn’t changed his shampoo since meeting Jim, a much needed baseline for the Sentinel. Jim at last said, “C’mon, Chief. Let’s go to bed.”
Blair headed upstairs while Jim checked all the locks and set the alarm. He’d undressed and slipped under the covers by the time the Sentinel seemed satisfied with the precautions he’d taken. With an arm under his head to watch his lover change into sweats, Blair questioned, “Wire and bell?”
Jim nodded and pulled on a t-shirt before joining him in bed, gathering Blair in close. It was an ancient warning system, but still an effective one; especially where the bells were so tiny as to be inaudible to anyone save a Sentinel. Jim had trained himself to respond through even the deepest of sleep, tested randomly by various friends over the years.
Resting on Jim’s chest, Blair murmured, “What if they’ve brought the army back to you?”
Letting out another deep breath, Jim replied, “We’ll deal with it. It’s not like we aren’t the most visible detective partnership in the city or anything.”
Blair huffed in amusement and agreed, “Only because you just managed to kill the Mayor’s brand new Lexus.”
“Oh, don’t try and blame me for that one, Junior,” Jim retorted, poking him in the side.
Letting out a distinctly unmanly giggle, Blair squirmed against the brief tickle attack. Giving it up, he laughed out loud, which seemed to be what Jim had wanted, because the tickling stopped. Jim turned out the bedside lamp and then wrapped both arms around him. Blair sighed his own deep sigh, but it was one of relaxation as Jim had no doubt intended. His lover was sneaky that way sometimes.
Blair grinned at the thought and closed his eyes, letting himself drift and trying not to think about their unexpected houseguests.
* * * *
Beck didn’t sleep very well and it wasn’t the ribs or the borderline concussion keeping him up. At first it was listening to Ellison and Sandburg as they went about their business getting ready to sleep. He winced on hearing that he’d bruised the younger man and made a note to take better care in the future. Not everyone was made of the same stern stuff as Travis. He was pretty sure most people couldn’t shake off falling over cliffs and getting beaten up with just an ‘ow.’
Well, a lot of loud ow’s, he amended silently with a fond grin.
Then it was his own thoughts as he went over and over the entire hellish afternoon. It had been a crappy week with them barely staying one step ahead of Billy’s goons and the Yakuza. One of these days he’d really like to pit them against each other and see who was left standing. Hopefully neither of them. Since that wasn’t likely to happen, he would take what he could get for keeping Travis safe.
And then he thought derisively,
Did a hell of a job this time, didn’t you?
They’d ditched the Yakuza the
most expedient way possible three days back; by mailing back the ‘priceless’
artifact that Travis had been hell bent on giving to the family it had
originally been stolen from. Beck had had enough of being on the bad side of
the gangsters and sent it priority overnight back to the ones who’d stolen it.
That had been in
That would’ve been okay, except two of Billy’s men had gone down in a hail of bullets on the way to their car. After years of traveling together, Travis had dropped to the ground instinctively and Beck had grabbed a gun from a one of the dead guys, covering Travis in the process while shooting back at the shooters. It had been a nightmare of people screaming around them and him trying to get Travis out of the line of fire.
They’d made it out, injured, but a car chase had followed and they’d crashed, breaking Travis’ arm in the process. He’d gotten his younger lover out of the burning car moments before it had exploded, the concussive blast slamming him face-first into the pavement, breaking his nose. He’d carried Travis to another car, hotwired it and stepped on the gas before the flames went down enough for whoever was chasing them to find out they hadn’t died.
Beck still didn’t know who was after them, or why, and it was the unknown part that kept him up. It could be the Yakuza again, if something had happened to the statue in transit, or even if the head of the gang had just decided to make an example of them. It could be any one of a dozen people Travis had pissed off over the years. It could even be someone that wanted to use Travis to get back at Billy, a competitor who didn’t care they weren’t even speaking. Or it could be one of Beck’s many enemies.
Too many suspects, he thought with a sigh.
Travis groaned and his eyes fluttered open long enough to focus on Beck, even in the darkness, before closing again. “Beck?”
The whisper wouldn’t have been audible to anyone else except maybe Ellison. Beck put a hand on Travis’ hip and answered, “Yeah, Travis, it’s me.”
“Where’re we?” he mumbled.
Beck brushed fingers through Travis’ short hair and explained, “Blair and Ellison’s place. We needed somewhere to hole up for a few days.”
“Blair?”
“Yeah, your friend,” Beck repeated. “Don’t worry. We’re safe. Go to sleep.”
Travis mumbled a protest but obediently went back to sleep anyhow, his body overriding his brain for a change.
Rubbing a hand lightly on Travis’ hip, Beck sighed and pressed his lips to the side of his lover’s throat. At least they had somewhere to land this time, however temporarily. They wouldn’t stay more than a couple days. He didn’t want to put Blair or Ellison in danger and staying too long would guarantee that happening if their pursuers were at all competent.
* * * *
Beck was already up when Jim walked downstairs in the morning. Not that he was surprised, since the other man was in unfamiliar, though not hostile, territory. Jim would have acted the same way. The coffee was already on and the big man sat at the kitchen table drinking a cup. He nodded to Jim and said, “Morning.”
Jim headed for the coffee maker and answered, “Morning. Feeling okay?”
“I’ll live,” Beck replied.
Beck’s nose was swollen and ugly, but the man acted as if it didn’t hurt at all. Pouring himself a cup of coffee, Jim smelled the addition of some kind of spice and took a hesitant sip. He wasn’t sure what the other man had done to the coffee, but it tasted great. He sat across from Beck and told him, “Good coffee.”
“Travis isn’t conscious before the first cup on a good day,” Beck said wryly. “I’ve learned to make it strong, but keep it from becoming tar in the process.”
Chuckling, Jim agreed, “Blair’s the same way. Though he does some kind of all natural shake to wake up with on top of the coffee.”
Beck made a face at that and asked, “Does he make you drink it?”
“Not since the first day he moved in,” Jim answered, grinning.
Beck snorted and took another sip of the coffee. “So. You want to know what’s going on.”
“It can wait until Blair’s up.”
“It could, except I don’t know what’s going on.”
Jim stiffened a little, not having expected that response.
Beck rubbed a hand over his head and continued, “We were on the bad side of a couple of gangsters recently and we’ve both got enemies enough to pick from, but no one stands out for the attack. Not really.”
“How many enemies are we talking about?” Jim prompted.
Beck’s gaze lost focus and he took a minute before saying, “If we’re talking people who would be happy if I dropped dead? I’ve got a few dozen. And Travis has about ten I can think of, off the top of my head. If we’re talking people who would actively try to make me drop dead, maybe ten for me and a half-dozen for Travis.”
Jim’s jaw dropped a bit. “Shit. And I thought I pissed people off regularly.”
Beck half-grinned as he countered, “You do. You just get to use the badge for a safety net.”
That was certainly true enough. Jim took drank more of the coffee and thought for a few minutes. He finally said, “Write them all down. Everyone. I’ll check the names out at work.”
“Ellison, you don’t need to…”
“Shut up, Beck.”
Beck eyed him for a long moment before nodding slowly. “Paper?”
Jim got up and grabbed a slip from the pad on the fridge, picking up a pen on the counter and then giving both to Beck. Blair had woken by then and joined them by sitting on Jim’s lap and taking his coffee cup with a grunt that meant, “Good morning,” in Blair-speak. Jim grinned and rubbed his lover’s back as he waited for the caffeine to hit and for Beck to finish with the list.
Beck pushed the paper across the table a few minutes later and said, “That’s all I can think of for now. I’ll probably have more by the end of the day. Plus whatever Travis gives me once he’s coherent.”
“It’s a good start,” Jim stated, looking over the names. One in particular caught his attention and he frowned. “Gary Sheldon? As in, Captain Gary Sheldon? I haven’t seen him in…well, since our last mission together.”
“When was that?” Blair mumbled through a yawn. “And who’s he?”
Beck explained, “Sheldon was a mission leader.”
“Briefly,” Jim added darkly. “Man didn’t know what he was doing. Didn’t deserve the uniform, let alone the rank.”
Beck nodded agreement and continued, “He doesn’t wear the uniform anymore, but when I ran into him a few years back, he definitely knew what he was doing. He was just doing it for some hardcore cartels.”
Jim snorted. “Are there any other kind?”
Beck’s lips twitched and he
said, “Guess not. Anyhow, Travis and I ran afoul of his operation in
Jim froze at that and felt Blair’s heart beat faster as his partner questioned, “What Temple?”
“I don’t know, you’d have to ask Travis. Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, he said it was something you’d been studying for a long time but I didn’t know who you were at the time.”
Sentinels? Jim wondered.
Giving them both a shrewd look, Beck stated, “You know what he was looking for, don’t you?”
Fortunately, Travis called out Beck’s name just then and the other man got up to check on him.
Blair jumped to his feet and
started pacing, saying in a low voice, “He can’t be talking about the
Sentinel’s
But knowing in his gut that
Beck was a Sentinel and Travis his Guide, Jim was sure the
Jim took another drink of his coffee and tried not to think about it until they knew for sure, one way or the other.
* * * *
Travis woke up alone, something he hated. What he hated more, though, was pain and it currently ran through most of his body, especially in his arm. He called out for Beck knowing that the other man would hear him and show up shortly after. He looked around at the small, windowless room and found Aboriginal masks on the wall as well as a tapestry that looked Celtic in nature. He vaguely remembered talking to Beck about being at Blair’s apartment at some point, which made sense given the surroundings.
Beck walked into the room and sat on the edge of the futon, brown eyes worried as he asked, “How do you feel?”
“Like crap,” Travis answered emphatically. “My bruises have bruises.”
That actually made Beck smile as he replied, “Sounds like your head’s still in one piece, though.”
Travis made a face at him. “Whatever. Hey, are we really at Blair’s place?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Because he makes awesome food. Tell him I want one of his famous omelets.”
Beck rolled his eyes and said, “I make awesome food. I’ll make you an omelet, if you want one.”
Travis grinned, knowing that would get to him. “So do we know who jumped us yet? And man, Billy’s going to kill me, getting those guys shot like that. Guess we’re officially off the Christmas Card list.”
Snorting, Beck pointed out, “We weren’t on it before.”
“Oh yeah,” Travis mock-remembered. “So look. We figure out who’s after us and get gone, right? I don’t want to get Blair into trouble or anything.”
Sounding half-serious, Beck asked, “Should I worry about your focus on Blair?”
Travis took Beck’s hand in his and soothed, “Of course not, big guy! You’re the only Neanderthal for me!”
“Yeah, you’re fine,” Beck muttered.
But he kissed Travis gently on the mouth before standing and ordering, “Don’t move. I’ll get you something to eat,” so Travis knew he hadn’t annoyed his lover too much.
Staring at the ceiling, he
wondered how in hell they would figure out who wanted to kill them and why. It
probably came in handy that Blair’s S. O. was a cop. No wait, he
thought. Blair’s a cop, too, not just Ellison. Man, that’s weird.
Beck returned in about five minutes with an omelet and glass of juice. Travis grinned at his literal interpretation to the teasing. One of the man things he both loved and hated about Beck. The man could be so creative and original when it came to cooking, but he lived his life by the book and rules that had no give to them whatsoever. Of course, Travis had carved out enough wiggle room in those rules over the years so they didn’t end up killing each other, which helped.
Beck helped him sit up, cushioning him with pillows and setting the plate on his lap, before asking, “Need anything else?”
“Nah, I’m good,” Travis assured him. “Go on with your coffee klatch.”
Beck brushed his hand lightly over Travis’ head before saying, “Call me when you want to get up and around.”
“That’ll be in about ten minutes,” Travis alerted, grinning a bit.
Nodding, Beck kissed him again and left the small room.
Travis savored the omelet, almost not wanting to wash away the taste with the orange juice. Even in someone else’s kitchen, Beck made the best food out of whatever was available. Drinking the last of his juice and taking the pills Beck had put on the dish without complaint, Travis set the plate aside. He leaned back against the pillows and waited for the painkillers to take effect. It was actually about twenty minutes later that they did and his bladder made its needs known.
He called out for Beck again and accepted the other’s help in getting to the bathroom as well as using it. Being down by one arm sucked big time, although not just for that reason. Grinning, Travis quipped, “Thanks for lending a hand, big guy. Don’t forget to wash it.”
“You’re a riot, Travis,” Beck told him wryly. “C’mon. Let’s get you settled in the living room.”
Glad he wasn’t being brought back to that claustrophobic room to ‘rest,’ Travis waited until Beck had washed his hands and then limped out to the other room with his help. He waved at Blair and Ellison, both sitting at the table together, and then stretched out on the sofa with a groan. His head throbbed just from that short time upright and he closed his eyes as he said, “Definitely a concussion.”
“Hospital?” Beck asked, tense.
Travis thought about it and then answered, “No, I think I’ll be okay. Not much they can do about it anyhow.”
Beck took his hand and kissed the palm before commanding, “Tell me if you get worse.”
Smiling fondly at the order, Travis promised, “I will. Go on and plan. I’m not going anywhere.”
Beck hesitated a moment longer and then said, “I’ll be right over there if you need anything.”
Closing his eyes against the migraine forming up, Travis did his best to neither need nor think about anything once Beck left. There was so much going on that he wouldn’t even know where to start anyhow, even without a serious concussion. No, he’d let Beck take care of the planning.
It was what his lover did best, after all.
* * * *
Major Crimes was suspiciously quiet when Jim and Blair arrived twenty minutes late. Jim looked at Blair on their way to their desks, who shrugged. He’d given Beck’s list of names to Blair since the other man was much better at the computer aspect of things than Jim. He wanted to find out exactly what was going on not just because Beck was a good guy and Travis a friend of Blair’s, although that alone was enough. He also wanted to make sure that Blair and he didn’t get caught in the crossfire and to do that, they had to find out who it was and put them behind bars.
“I’ll start with Sheldon,” Blair said, turning on his computer. “Since he’s someone you both know.”
Jim hated to admit it, but agreed, “Beck could’ve been driven here because Sheldon knows I’m here. We were pretty tight back then.”
Blair grinned and then leered a little as he commented, “I bet you both looked great in cammos and tank tops.”
“Focus, Chief,” Jim ordered as he tried not to grin.
It was always nice to be appreciated.
Sitting, Jim turned on his own computer to check email when the phone rang. He picked it up with, “Ellison.”
“It’s nice to hear your voice again, Captain. How’s life treating you these days?”
Even if he hadn’t just been thinking about the man, Jim would’ve recognized his voice instantly. It was just as smarmy and condescending as he remembered. Waving at Blair to catch his attention, Jim answered, “Life’s good, Sheldon. I hear you’ve been keeping bad company these days.”
Blair instantly picked up his phone and said quietly, urgently, “I need an immediate trace on Detective Ellison’s phone.”
“I wouldn’t call them bad, just misunderstood,” Sheldon replied. “And how’s Lt. Beck? Still hiding from the army, I see.”
Jim bluffed, “Lt. Beck? Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time. I was wondering why you called.”
“Cut the crap, Ellison. I know you know where he is and if you don’t want that pretty little boy-toy of yours to get hurt, you’ll tell me where that bastard’s hiding out. Funny how the two of you turned out queer, isn’t it? Or maybe not, considering how close the two of you were back then. Doing a lot of reminiscing?”
Jim grit his teeth and forced himself to sound easy and calm as he replied, “Even if I knew where Beck was, I wouldn’t tell you. And threatening my partner is the best way to get yourself killed, Sheldon.”
“Ooh. Touched a nerve, did I? Wish we could talk more, but it’s time to go. Tell Beck I’m coming for that little bitch of his.”
The line went dead and Jim hung up, looking at Blair.
After a moment, Blair shook his head and told him, “Not on the line long enough. Close though. He timed it.”
“He’s a bastard, but not stupid,” Jim confirmed. Looking around the still-silent office, he demanded, “Where is everyone? There’s barely anyone on the floor.”
Blair’s eyes widened in surprise. “Not on the whole floor?”
Jim shook his head as he explained, “Three, maybe four heartbeats.”
Frowning, Blair suggested, “Maybe we should…”
The rest of Blair’s words were drowned out by an explosion that sent them both flying. Jim slammed through the glass doors and struck the elevator with enough force to dislocate his shoulder. He stayed conscious for a few seconds, the smoke and alarms giving the entire thing a surreal feeling before darkness claimed him.
* * * *
Blair couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in such excruciating pain; an all-over pain, but also concentrated in his left thigh and side. A loud, high-pitched frequency overrode his hearing and his head ached fiercely. A dark shape hovered in front of him and Blair blinked rapidly to find Simon bent over him, mouth moving but no sound reaching Blair’s ears.
When Simon moved aside to be replaced by two EMTs, Blair said, “I can’t hear anything! Loud ringing in my head. Where’s Jim?”
Simon pointed across the room and Blair followed the gesture while the EMT started carefully checking him over. Jim lay unconscious by the elevator doors with his own set of EMTs and his arm looked to be at an unnatural angle.
Looking back at Simon, Blair demanded, “He’s alive?”
Simon nodded firmly and Blair breathed a sigh of relief only to groan in pain at the sharp hitch in his side. It seemed like forever that he laid there, the medics working to get him in transportable shape. When Blair saw the long, thin shard of metal through his thigh, he realized just how close he’d come to getting killed and started shaking, heart thudding against his ribcage.
A strong hand gripped his shoulder and Blair looked up to find Simon saying something to him, but couldn’t understand what. Frustrated, Blair said, “I can’t understand you!”
Simon grimaced and then jumped a little, turning to look over at where Jim had been lying. Blair did the same only to discover Jim on his feet and staggering over to him. The medics were trying to keep him in place, his arm dangling uselessly, and Simon even tried to stop him, but no one seemed to want to touch him in case of hurting him further. Jim collapsed to his knees beside Blair and shoved aside the EMT who was closest. He put his good hand over Blair’s throat, holding firmly a moment before sliding down to his heart.
Blair reached up with his hand to cover Jim’s and ordered, “Let them take care of you! I’m fine!”
Jim’s lips pulled back in a snarl to contradict that and Blair saw little of reason in those pale blue eyes. Blair knew he had to reach Jim fast because his headache was getting worse and silver tinted the edges of his vision, which signaled either blood loss or concussion; probably both, with his luck.
“Jim! Jim, listen to me! You have to let them help us or you won’t be able to find out who did this!” Blair said firmly, even though it set his head to ringing louder. His own voice was a muted, barely there thing to his own ears, but he continued, “I’m going to pass out soon, but don’t you dare lose control, Jim! You hear me? You keep it together and that’s an order!”
Too slowly, Jim became Jim again instead of a primal Sentinel with an injured Guide. Just as darkness covered his vision, Blair saw his lover’s face soften and shift into pain and worry as he gazed down at Blair.
* * * *
Blair’s too-loud, staccato voice broke through the haze of bloodlust, his Guide’s usual elegance and smooth tone broken by unawareness of volume and tone. Shaking off the urge to rip apart the nearest person who’d been touching Blair, Jim fell back with a groan of his own pain.
Simon caught him and ordered, “Okay, go to it. He’s back with us.”
Jim met Simon’s worried gaze and nodded as he said, “I’m here, I’m…me…sorry, sorry I just…how is he? Will he be all right?”
That last question asked of the medic now gone back to working on the metal shard sticking out of Blair’s thigh. The young man nodded tersely and answered, “We need to get him to the hospital right now. He’s lost a lot of blood here. Don’t stop us again.”
Jim’s stomach rebelled with the knowledge that he’d hurt Blair by interfering. “I won’t.”
“Sir, we need to see to you now,” someone said.
Glancing at the woman who stood hesitantly nearby, Jim nodded tiredly and let Simon bring him over to the nearest chair that hadn’t been blown apart in the explosion.
The woman warned, “This is going to hurt,” and popped his arm back into the socket.
Jim saw stars, nearly passing out again, but held onto consciousness by the skin of his teeth. As she wrapped his arm in place, Jim caught his breath and demanded, “Where was everyone? What the hell is going on?”
“We got a bomb threat at the mall and everyone mobilized,” Simon answered sourly. “Obviously, it was a diversion to get to you two, but why? Who’d you piss off this time?”
Grimacing, not about to go into things then and there, Jim said shortly, “I’ll tell you about it later. Right now, I need to go with Blair.”
They’d loaded his partner onto a gurney and were rolling him to the stairs. There were plenty of volunteers to help get Blair to the lobby, something that would probably surprise him when Jim told him, even though Jim kept telling him how respected he was. It took all he had, but Jim kept up with the crowd that carried Blair. There was no way in hell he would be left behind. When they got to the ambulances, Jim climbed into the same as Blair’s, glaring a dare at anyone to gainsay him. No one did, so he sat on the opposite gurney and stayed out of the way as the EMT in the back monitored Blair.
They were at the hospital in ten minutes and Jim could only go as far as the ER, watching them prep Blair for surgery. The metal fragment was too close to the femoral artery to risk doing anything there, plus there was a gouge in his side that could be from another metal fragment that had gone into him like shrapnel.
Jim fully planned to take Sheldon apart with his bare hands the second he caught up to the other man. Until then, though, he could only watch as they wheeled Blair rapidly to the elevators for surgery.
“Detective? Sir? If you’ll come this way, I can check you out as well,” someone with an accent said from behind.
Jim turned back to the doctor and stiffly replied, “I’m fine.”
All of five foot nothing, the blond woman glared up at him and stated, “Like hell. Get your ass on that exam table before I have a couple of nice, strapping young lads carry you there.”
He instantly liked her, hearing something of Blair in her voice, and docilely walked over to the exam bed indicated and climbed on it. She took off his shirt by the expedient method of cutting it off and then shoving it in an evidence bag. Off his surprised look, she said wryly, “Family of coppers,” and went about her business of stitching up the many cuts that he hadn’t even felt.
Twenty-eight stitches later, Simon showed up and whistled at the sight of him. “Damn, Jim! Are you all right? Is he all right?”
The doctor peered up at Simon
and answered, “He’ll be fine. Mild concussion, dislocated shoulder taken care
of in the field, and plenty of shrapnel cuts from flying glass and metal now
all sewn up. Feel like I’m back in
Jim half-grinned at her. “I will. Could you see how my partner’s doing?”
She nodded and left them alone in the curtained area.
Simon immediately demanded, “What’s going on?”
What little good mood the doctor had brought about vanished as Jim explained the situation. He finished with, “I really need to stay here, but I also need someone to check on Beck and Travis.”
“Someone meaning me,” Simon commented wryly. He held up a hand when Jim opened his mouth to apologize and said, “No, it’s fine. I’ll take care of it. You stay here and call me the second you hear about Blair. Joel, H, and Rafe are working the scene.”
Jim nodded as the doctor returned and shook her head at his hopeful look.
“Sorry, Detective, but they’re still in surgery and I didn’t want to interrupt for an update,” the woman told him. “I want you to sack out here until they’re done because they’re the best and you, my lad, are knackered. I don’t want you wanderin’ about until there’s a reason for it.”
As tired as he was, Jim couldn’t argue, even though he really wanted to. He lay back with her help. He realized just how exhausted he really was when he didn’t notice the needle until it was buried in his arm.
At his glare, the doctor just gave an impish grin. “Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission, I always say.”
The drugs took swift hold and Jim unwillingly answered their call.