Love, Like Water (27 page)

He stalked over to the guy with the jammed windpipe and shoved him with his foot so that he was on his belly too. Putting his foot on the guy’s back and leaning on him, so that the guy started crying, he said, “Think you’re a badass with a gun? Think you’re tough? I eat
maricones
like you for breakfast. Shit, I just lean a little harder—” He leaned, and the guy cried out. “I break a few ribs, puncture a lung, you just as dead. Gee, officer, guess I hit him harder than I thought. Oops.” A soft scraping sound caught his attention and he turned to look at the guy with the shattered kneecap trying to crawl away. He laughed, and for the first time in months felt like he was where he belonged, back on the street, high and powerful instead of the lost and broken man he was. “Don’t go too far,” he sang. “Maybe you need to see what that bat should be used for. Maybe
you
need to take it up the ass, hey,
papi chulo
? Maybe I need to use that on you, show you what real pain is like.”

“Josh….”

Josh went still. His eyes still focused on the men, he said, “Eli?”

“Don’t…. This is not… not you.” The voice was faint, and wet, somehow. Josh’s fury was turning his vision red. Six feet away, one of the men moaned and the smell of piss was ripe in the still evening air.

“This is exactly what I am,” Joshua said harshly. “Don’t talk, Eli.”

Eli went silent, except for the faint bubbling of his breath. Joshua focused on the weight of the gun in his hand, the heat radiating off the concrete dock, the groans of the two injured men. The ache of where he’d taken blows. The fury that was making the gun quiver in his hand. Anything but the battered ruin of his lover at his feet. He didn’t dare look at him. Didn’t dare
think
of him.

There were the faint sounds of sirens, but it wasn’t until the first car pulled into the dock area that he started to realize it was over. The cops poured out of their cars, guns drawn. He put his hands up, the gun dangling from one finger. “Joshua Chastain,” he said to the cop that approached him. “Former FBI—Agent Bill Robinson of the Chicago office will vouch for me. These men attacked Mr. Kelly here.”

“That’s bullshit,” one of the three whined. “We were minding our own business when him and his buddy there jumped us. He’s some kinda ninja.”

Joshua snorted.

The cops put all four of them in handcuffs and into separate vehicles. Joshua expected that. But they also made way for the EMTs.

The last thing Joshua saw as the cop car pulled away from the dock was them lifting a dark, limp mass onto a gurney.
Eli
.

Chapter 23

T
HEY
hadn’t put Joshua into a cell, but after a few hours in the interrogation room—every jurisdiction called it by some euphemism or other, but to Joshua it was always the interrogation room—he was hungry for answers. They’d brought him in, checked him for injuries, then handcuffed him to the metal ring on the table, with just enough play that he could drink the bottle of water (lukewarm) that they had brought him, and said they would be back in a few minutes to take his statement. They’d come, listened expressionlessly to his version of events, then left again. That was three hours ago. He’d finished the water and peeled the label off the bottle, but he was still alone in there.

He suspected he was being watched—the room was brightly lit, but he could still see some shadows behind the two-way mirror that took up one wall. He wondered what they were looking for.

He didn’t think of Eli. He
refused
to think of Eli.

But the first words out of his mouth when the door opened and a pair of suits walked in were “How’s Eli? Where is he? Is he okay?”

“Mr. Kelly has been taken to the University Medical Center. I don’t have any information on his condition.” The thin man smiled faintly, and reached over to unlock Joshua’s handcuffs. “Sorry about the delay—we were getting distinctly mixed messages about you and needed to confirm your identity.”

Joshua rubbed his wrists. “What kind of mixed messages?”

The heavier-set guy gestured at Joshua. “You meet the description of a member of Los Peligros who’s wanted on a number of federal warrants. Fortunately for you, your superior in Chicago—a Bill Robinson?—filled us in. I’m Agent Weathersby, and this is Agent Greene, from the Albuquerque office. Sorry it took so long. You know how it is.”

“Yeah.” Joshua rubbed his wrists. “Can I leave now? You have my statement.”

“Yeah. Your uncle’s waiting out front. You’re gonna get tagged for discharge of a weapon, but fortunately that’s barely a misdemeanor. Papers are ready and your uncle’s already paid the fine. And you were right, in your statement—the gun not only had Kieczerski’s fingerprints all over it, it was registered to him as well. We’re thinking you just handed us the perps of a short string of hate crimes the Albuquerque PD’s been working on. You might be getting a call from the DA’s office.”

“Right.” Josh got up from the chair. “Can I go? I need to get to the hospital.”

“Right—your friend.”

“My
partner
.”

The agents’ eyebrows went up, and Joshua didn’t blame them. It was a surprise to him, too. “Oh, yeah?” the skinny one said.

“You got a problem with that?”

“If I did, my husband would give me a good kick in the ass for it,” the skinny one said. He held out a hand. “I’m Dave Greene, and this is Ray Weathersby. No need to stand on ceremony. Your uncle has our business cards if you need to get a hold of either of us. And Robinson in Chicago told us we should try and talk you into coming back to work—we could use someone with your skills in this office.”

Josh smiled thinly and said, “No, thanks. Can I go?”

Finally, they let him go, following him out of the room, through the electric gates a guard opened for them, and down the hall to the front desk. Tucker was sitting in a chair along the wall; when he saw Joshua, he leapt to his feet and threw his arms around him. “Son, you all right?”

“Fine,” Joshua replied, patting Tucker awkwardly on the back. “Why are you here? You should be with Eli!”

“You’re my goddamned nephew,” Tucker said. “I needed to be here. Besides, they kicked me out of the hospital.”

“What? What for?”

“Oh, they didn’t really, but they were taking Eli into surgery, and since I ain’t a relative, they weren’t giving me any information anyway.”

“They’ll give me information,” Joshua growled.

Tucker shot him a quick grin. “That’s what I figured. You got connections.” He nodded at the two agents behind Joshua.

“As Mr. Kelly’s partner, you should have no difficulty getting the information you need, but if you run into a snag, have them call me,” Weathersby said. “But you shouldn’t need to—the city’s pretty progressive on that front. I’m just sorry you had to be the victim of some of our less savory residents.” The man’s smile widened into a wicked grin. “Unfortunately for them, some hate crimes fall under federal jurisdiction—the ones we want to. Add to that an attack on a federal officer….”

“I’m not one, anymore,” Joshua said.

“Not according to Robinson. He says you’re on medical leave.”

“What?”

The grin on Greene’s face matched Weathersby’s. “The Bureau didn’t accept your resignation, Chastain. Just in case you changed your mind.” He patted Joshua on the shoulder as he and the other agent walked by. “Keep in touch.”

Josh stared blankly after them. Tucker said, “There’s some paperwork you gotta sign over on the desk, then let’s go see about Eli. And you can tell me on the way what the hell he meant when he called you Eli’s partner?”

T
UCKER
was on the phone with the ranch hours later when a tired-looking doctor in scrubs came into the waiting room. “Mr. Chastain?”

“Yes?”

“Yeah?”

The doctor looked from one to the other. “Mr. Joshua Chastain.”

“That’s me,” Joshua said. “How is Eli?”

“There’s a conference room next door,” the doctor said. “Let’s go there for a minute.”

His gut aching, Joshua followed. Tucker put the phone away and came too. Once inside the room, the doctor gestured to a trio of chairs set around a small coffee table.

“Sit down, please.”

“What’s wrong with Eli?” Joshua asked tightly, ignoring the doctor’s directive.

Tucker reached out and put a hand on Joshua’s shoulder. “Ease back and let the man talk, Josh.”

“Thank you.” The doctor indicated the chairs again and Joshua sat down, his attention fully on the doctor. “Mr. Kelly is in very serious condition. There was some internal bleeding, and we had to remove his spleen and his appendix. One of his lungs was punctured by a broken rib and had collapsed—that’s been repaired and drained. His kidneys are severely bruised, but we believe they’ll heal properly. Of course, we will have to monitor him carefully to make sure there’s nothing we didn’t catch. What kind of work does he do? He’s in very good condition, despite his injuries. In fact, his excellent condition may have kept him from being hurt worse. Muscle absorbs blows better than any other tissue, and might have prevented more serious bone injuries.”

“He’s a horseman.” Tucker’s voice was low and shaken.

“It’s impossible to tell at this point what his prognosis on that front is, but there’s no spinal injury, aside from bruising, so that’s good. There were a couple of torn ligaments in his right leg and knee from a forced dislocation, which he’ll need physical therapy for, if he is to ride again. His left arm and wrist are broken and his shoulder dislocated, though both of those things have been treated. He’ll need physical therapy for those, too.”

“And?” Joshua asked when the man had stopped.

“The most serious injuries aside from the internal are to his head. He has a severe concussion and subdural hemorrhage. We were able to relieve some of the pressure from the bleeding. However, we won’t know how bad the resultant damage is until he’s awake. Superficially, he has a cracked cheekbone and his nose was broken, but it’s been set. He’s lost a couple of molars on one side.”

“So what does that mean?” Joshua spread his hands wide. “What is gonna happen? Is he going to be okay?”

“I think so. It may not seem like it, but he was lucky. We’ve had a string of gay-bashings this fall—he’s the fourth. The first victim died of his injuries. The second will be released in a few days to an extended-care facility with severe brain damage. The third is still here, in critical but stable condition, in a coma.” The doctor spread his hands. “Rumor has it that it was thanks to you that the animals that did this to them are in custody.”

“They think they’re the ones, yeah. Can I see him?”

“He’s still unconscious….”

“I don’t care. I just need to see him.” Joshua hated the tremble in his voice.

“Very well. Come with me, then.”

Chapter 24

T
HE
change in shift had come and gone. The new nurse came in and introduced himself quietly to Joshua, then went about checking all the things the last one had a few minutes ago. He wondered absently why this nurse was different from the one who’d been here the last few nights, then thought that it might be Saturday, and the weekend shift. Come to think of it, the one on the day shift had been different too. Saturday, then, probably. He’d lost count of the days here. Uncle Tucker had offered to take turns with him, but Uncle Tucker had a ranch to run, and besides, it wasn’t
his
fault Eli was here.

Then Tucker had offered to pay for a hotel room for Joshua, but Joshua had just looked at him and asked “What for?” and Tucker dropped the subject. Instead, he drove the two hours in to the city every day to bring Joshua food and a change of clothes.

Joshua didn’t know what the local FBI agents had told the staff there, but the first night, when one of the nurses tried to get him to leave after visiting hours were over, he’d just handed her Weathersby’s card, and after that, they’d left him alone. Alone, but not neglected—they’d brought in a chair that was sort of a recliner, with a pillow and light throw. Joshua had dragged it up beside Eli’s bed, close enough that he could rest his hand on Eli’s arm, and then he could sleep, if only a light doze, ready to wake up if Eli moved or if someone else came in. The nurses had all looked askance at the arrangement, but none of them said anything.