Chapter 10
Somewhere between the fifteenth and eleventh floors, Chris realized all the other occupants had migrated to the opposite side of the elevator. When he caught a glimpse of his face reflected in the stainless steel doors, he understood why. He'd seen hardened criminals that looked a lot less threatening.
Sucking in a deep breath, he rolled his head until his neck gave a satisfying pop, then thumbed an antacid from the dwindling roll in his pocket. By the time he reached the bullpen, he had a better handle on his temper and the burn in his gut had backed off from flames to embers.
"Conference room, two minutes," he barked, waving off any questions and heading straight for his office.
He stripped off his suit jacket and tossed it on the couch, picked up a small stack of reports, and sank into his chair. From the corner of his eye he could see the blinking light indicating he had voicemails, but he pointedly ignored it as he flipped through the paperwork.
"And a good afternoon to you, too." Buck leaned in the doorway, his gaze sharp despite the breezy tone of voice.
"What part of 'conference room, two minutes' didn't you get?" Chris crumpled the piece of paper he was scanning into a ball. "Son of a bitch! I've told Ezra a million times--he can't write off his Armani suits as a business expense."
Buck raised an eyebrow. "Who put the bug up your ass?"
"Was there something specific you wanted, Buck?"
"Just to piss you off--is it working?" Before Chris could retort Buck set a cellophane-wrapped sandwich and a can of soda in front of him. "Figured you probably didn't take time to eat lunch."
The anger drained out of Chris, leaving behind weariness and a little bit of shame. He motioned for Buck to take a seat. "Sorry. It's been a helluva day."
"Vin?"
"I'll fill you in with the others at the briefing. I'd rather not have to go through it more than once."
"Fair enough." Buck watched him pull open the wrapper and bite into half the sandwich. "Though from the look of things, I'm not gonna like what I hear."
Chris chewed doggedly, the turkey and whole wheat like cardboard on his tongue. "Whatever happens with the case... This isn't going to go away anytime soon, Buck. Not for Vin."
"We'll get him through it."
"Yeah." Chris wished he believed that as strongly as Buck seemed to.
Some of the doubt must have bled onto his face. Buck narrowed his eyes. "Chris--"
"Let's go." He dropped the half-eaten sandwich onto his desk and scooped up the soda and the stack of file folders. "The others are probably waiting."
When he stepped into the conference room, Chris couldn't help wondering if he was in the right place. Normally, corralling his six teammates in one room led to controlled chaos: Josiah waxing poetic about his latest love interest, Nathan debating Vin over what exactly constitutes a good cup of coffee, Buck and J.D. roughhousing, and Ezra offering odds on who was going to wind up hurt.
Today he was greeted with silence, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. J.D. hunched over a notepad, chomping on the eraser of his pencil. Josiah's eyes were closed, his fingers steepled in a gesture of either meditation or prayer. And Ezra …
"Damn it--where's Ezra?" Chris took a seat at the head of the table.
Josiah opened his eyes and gazed calmly at him for a long moment before responding. "Running down a few leads. Said he should have something for us when he gets in."
"I hope to hell he's right. Let's get started. One of you can fill him in later." Chris scrubbed a hand over his face and took another swig of the soda, wishing for something stronger.
"It would appear Vin remembered something," Josiah said, studying him with sharp eyes.
"Yeah. And it's not going to be easy for you to hear."
Chris proceeded to give them an abbreviated account of the scene at the warehouse, sticking to the facts and skimming over their impact on Vin.
"I want the bastard behind this," he concluded, looking into each of their shell-shocked faces. "We lost a good man on a fucking whim. Sean Donovan was only taken to use as leverage against Vin. He was never part of the equation."
Hunched down in his chair, J.D. mumbled something too soft to hear. "What did you say?" Chris asked, his tone sharper than he'd intended.
J.D. flushed under the other men's combined gazes. "I, uh…I said…not necessarily."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
After an encouraging nod from Buck, J.D. squared his shoulders. "Well, it's just… After I heard what Josiah said about the autopsy, I started poking around in Sean's records."
Chris raised an eyebrow at the profiler. "What exactly did Josiah say about the autopsy? And why the hell haven't I heard it before now?"
"Easy, boss. I was gonna tell you. You've just been a bit…preoccupied with other matters."
"I'm here now."
Josiah nodded, stroking one big hand along his jaw. "Forensics sent me the report last night and I forwarded a copy to your email. Nothing they found was unexpected. Sean died of a single gunshot wound to the head. Powder burns indicate it was close range."
"Which can't be what's got J.D. looking like he's just found out Santa Claus isn't real."
"He's not?" Buck's feigned outrage broke a little of the tension.
"It's not what they found that was unexpected," Josiah continued, all traces of humor fading from his face. "It's what they didn't find."
"Go on."
"We all know the shape Vin was in when we got to him. Those boys came within a breath of beating him to death. But Sean…" Josiah shook his head. "They found some bruising and contusions on his face. Ligature marks on his wrists."
"That's it?" Chris frowned, his mind working furiously. "No broken bones, no burns? Drugs?"
"Nope."
"That doesn't make any sense. Vin remembers… He said he could hear Sean screaming." Chris chewed the inside of his cheek. "What about all the blood on his shirt?"
"Near as they could tell, it came from his nose. And the gunshot." The big man shifted in his chair and his voice dropped. "They found his blood on Vin's shirt, too."
Chris shut his eyes, assaulted by the memory of Vin's raspy voice. "They did it right in front of me, and I…his blood…" He swallowed hard, his stomach churning. "Tell me what you found, J.D."
"At first, nothing," J.D. said. His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "Then I, uh, dug a little deeper, and I… He's in hock up to his eyeballs, Chris. Credit cards maxed out and he's borrowed on all his investments. There's even a second mortgage on the townhouse."
"Damn." Chris gazed around the table. "We need to know why a guy with dual incomes and no kids is in that kind of debt. Now."
"Ezra's workin' on it," Buck replied. "That's why he's not here."
Chris blew out a long breath, abruptly furious with a dead man. "Son of a bitch."
"We can't jump to conclusions," Josiah cautioned. "Could be a perfectly reasonable explanation why--"
Chris's cell trilled and he held up a hand, cutting his friend off midstream. "Larabee."
"Chris, it's Nathan."
Something in the tone of the medic's voice had Chris sitting up straight, all senses on alert. "How's Vin?"
"Gone."
"Gone? Are you-- How the hell could he be gone?"
"'Cause he's Vin Tanner, that's how. Little shit must've slipped out right under my nose. When I checked on him an hour ago he was still out cold."
"You sure he left on his own power?" Chris waved off the others, who had gathered around his chair.
"Hell yeah, I'm sure. Peso's missing."
Sometimes an extensive knowledge of profanity came in handy. Chris swore a blue streak, calling Vin every name he could think of and a few he made up on the spot. "Stay put in case he comes back. I'm on my way." He snapped the phone shut. "I'm going to kill him."
"Vin took off?" Josiah asked.
"Evidently," Chris snapped, collecting his papers.
"Calm down, old dog," Buck said, amusement in the corners of his mouth. "The kid could hardly walk--I doubt he'll get very far."
Chris glared. "He's on Peso."
"Wow." J.D. sounded both awed and troubled. "I can't believe he managed that with all those broken fingers."
"Yeah? Well I can't believe he's being such a jackass." Chris lobbed the empty can of Coke into the trash and headed for the door. "I want to hear from Ezra as soon as he gets in," he called over his shoulder.
He didn't wait for a reply.
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
"I ought to kick your ass, broken ribs or no." Though still furious, Chris felt a surge of relief. He'd been reasonably sure Vin would head here, but this particular spot was halfway up the mountain and in his current condition he could easily have ended up at the bottom of a cliff.
Vin didn't turn, his only response a stiffening of his shoulders. Chris stepped onto the ledge and eased down beside him. Even bathed in the muted glow of the setting sun Vin looked washed out, his skin waxy and drawn.
"What in God's name possessed you to pull such a stupid stunt?" Chris continued, needing to fill the pained silence. "You can't control that mule of yours one handed and without a saddle."
"Got here, didn't I?" Vin's voice was rough with suppressed emotion and he kept his gaze fixed firmly on the distant peaks.
"Thanks to sheer cussedness and a hefty dose of luck."
Vin looked sharply at him, then quickly away. His throat worked for a moment before he managed to speak. "Can't say I feel too lucky right now."
Shit.
Chris pulled in a deep breath. Vin was beating himself up over Sean, yet the agent might not have been all that he seemed. Though common sense told him to wait until all the facts were in, the urge hit hard to say something, anything, to relieve a little of Vin's pain.
"Look, Vin, I know--"
"I can't do this anymore, Chris. I'm turnin' in my resignation just as soon as I can get it typed up."
It was probably the last thing he ever expected to come out of Vin Tanner's mouth. Chris gaped at him for a long moment, finally blurting the first thing that popped into his reeling brain. "You can't mean that." When Vin just gave him a measuring stare, his temper flared. "Well, I won't accept it."
"Then I'll give it to Travis," Vin replied without heat. "This ain't your decision to make."
"The past couple weeks have been a nightmare--hell, you're probably suffering from PTSD. Now's not the time--"
Vin scowled. "I'm not crazy."
"I didn't say you were. I just meant--"
"What if it had been you?"
Chris shut up, silenced by the raw edge of fear in Vin's question.
Tears shimmered in Vin's eyes and he scrubbed impatiently at them with the back of his hand. "Don't you get it? I can't hardly stand my part in what happened to Sean. If it'd been you, or Buck, or..." He choked on the words and shook his head.
He should have seen this coming. Chris's stomach burned and a headache thumped dully over his left eye. Pain, grief, and guilt had Vin on the knife's edge, emotionally speaking. He knew he had to choose his next words carefully.
"You keep focusing on the life lost--and I understand that, I do. But what about the life you saved?"
Vin curled his lip. "Which one would that be--my own?"
Chris refused to be baited. "Whatever they wanted from you was big--big enough to warrant the kidnapping and torture of a federal agent. You were protecting someone the only way you could. With your silence."
"Yer guessin', Cowboy." But a shadow of uncertainty crept into Vin's voice.
"Maybe so, but it's a guess based in fact. We know those goons were hired by someone, someone with enough power and money to keep from getting his own hands dirty. We know they were willing to go to any lengths necessary to get the information." Chris paused, tipping his head to see Vin's face. "And we know you were willing to go to any lengths to prevent them from getting it."
"Don't change the fact that it could as easily been you drivin' home with me that night."
"And if it had, I'd've expected no less from you. There's not a man on this team wouldn't willingly give up his life, Vin. To protect and serve. It's what we do. You honored that vow in every sense of the word. I'm damn proud of you."
Vin's face was wide open with shock for an instant before crumpling. He ducked his head, shielding his eyes with his hand.
Chris let him have a moment before speaking. "Do me a favor. Don't make any life-changing decisions until you're feeling better and we've had a chance to close this case. Deal?"
Vin lowered his hand and looked at Chris through damp lashes. "Okay. But if I decide to leave, yer gonna have to let me go."
Over my dead body Chris thought grimly, but he gave a short nod. "Now can we please get you back to the ranch? My ass is going numb."
No snappy comeback. Vin just pushed slowly to his feet. When he swayed, Chris grabbed onto his arm.
"'M okay," Vin muttered, but his feet tangled up when he tried to move.
"Yeah. I can see that." Chris maintained his firm grip all the way back to where the horses were tethered. It was a measure of how bad Vin must be feeling that he never protested or tried to shrug free.
When he was sure Vin was okay on his own, Chris mounted Pony and held out his hand. "Let's go."
Vin stared at it, frowning. "Huh?"
"You're about three minutes from keeling over. There's no way I'm trusting that black devil to get you home."
"That's m'horse yer talkin' 'bout, Larabee." Vin's thickening drawl warned Chris his friend was past exhausted.
"I know. Now give me your hand."
Vin hesitated a moment longer before giving in with a sigh. Chris steadied his friend while he got a foot in the stirrup and swung up behind him. He grimaced at Vin's sharp intake of breath, imagining the agony such a movement would provoke from broken ribs.
"Ready?" Chris asked, looping Peso's reins over the saddlehorn.
"Reckon so."
Within five minutes Vin's head was pressed heavily between Chris's shoulder blades and his chest rose and fell with the slow, even breaths of sleep. Chris rested a hand over the arm clasped around his waist. His back was going to be pure misery by the time they reached the ranch, but he found he really didn't care.
Vin was hurting, far deeper even than Chris had guessed, but he'd managed to talk his friend into a reprieve. Now Vin just needed to be reminded how indispensable he was to the team.
And Chris knew just the men for the job.
Continued in Chapter 11