Protect (43 page)

“No word. I don’t know, man. I told them she
was pregnant. They let me ride in the ambulance with her. The whole
fucking sheriff’s department is at her house right now, waiting for
the fire department to clear them to go in. They told me to stay
here. They’re coming for my statement.” He cleared his throat.
“They want to talk to you, too.”

Fritter frowned. “What? Me?”

“They always interview the spouse, boyfriend,
lover, whatever,” Buck said, squeezing the shoulder he was still
holding. “To rule you out as a suspect.”

Fritter eyed up the man beside him. “And how
the fuck do I prove that? I was handing off pot to a wholesale
dealer with Tank.”

“She’ll tell them it wasn’t you,” Tiny
pointed out, refreshingly smart. “Until then, they’ll want to keep
an eye on you.”

“Fuck me.” With a sigh he let his head hit
the wall beside him, eyes closing.

“What do you need us to do?” Buck asked.
“Call her family? They should know.”

Fritter nodded. “Yeah, we should do that. Her
parents should know. Her kid.”

“Let’s look up the numbers. You want me to do
that, you can call?”

Fritter nodded, then spat out, “Fuck! I don’t
know her folks!”

“None of us do. But you gotta tell them about
this
and
the baby.”

He was right, so he nodded and Buck went off
to hunt down the phone numbers he needed. He’d likely call Spaz to
find them. He was just contemplating what a grownup he was. This
was the shit grownups did.

Tiny pulled him to a waiting area, a lot like
the one where’d they’d been while Gertie had been having David
Junior. It was quieter though, and the TV was turned off. People
talked softer here and the rooms around the square arrangement of
vinyl-covered furniture all had their doors closed.

Tiny’s presence at his side was strangely
comforting. Other than an appreciation for fucking, he had not a
lot in common with the man.

“I hope the baby’s okay,” Tiny mumbled,
surprising the shit out of Fritter.

“What?”

“Your baby,” Tiny repeated, rubbing the back
of his neck and furrowing his brow. “I wish I’d caught the fuck
that did that to her. I mean, they probably didn’t know she was
pregnant but ... Fuck. I hope the kid’s okay.”

Fritter stared at the flooring between his
feet. “Me too, man.”

“Being a dad changes everything,” Tiny went
on, like Fritter hadn’t spoken. “But it changes it for the
better.”

Fritter frowned. Tiny never said a lot about
his past. All he knew was that the man’s parents were really old
when they had him, and they still lived in his hometown. His mom
was starting to slip into dementia from the sounds of it, and he’d
heard talk of Tiny having a woman and a kid when he was much
younger but the guy never spoke of them. It all pointed to a really
sad story so Fritter had resolved to never bring it up.

Until right then.

“You have a kid out there?”

Tiny cleared his throat and stared at the
wall. “No. Had one. Don’t anymore.”

The tone suggested that was all the guy was
going to say about that, so Fritter nodded and left it at that.
Luckily Buck came back with a text from Spaz. It was Brayden’s
number, so Fritter called that one first.

Predictably, the kid was freaked. He said
he’d get his stepmom to drive him to Markham since his father was
still suffering from limited mobility. Fritter decided to drop the
bomb about the baby once they were at the hospital. But then Spaz
had come through with her parents number.

Fuck. He had no idea how to handle this.

Once the phone was ringing it was too late to
back out, though. A woman answered after three rings and he began
by clearing his throat like a moron.

“Sorry about that. Umm ... Missus
Downey?”

“Yes?”

“You’re Sharon’s mom?”

Pause. “Yes, I am. Who is this?”

“My name’s Fritter—um, Mark Horton. I’m a
friend of your daughter’s in Markham.” That’s when he ran out of
road map. Fuck, this was terrifying.

“Hello? Is anything wrong?”

He rubbed his forehead, cringing as he
answered. “She’s been hurt. Um, she’s being examined right
now.”

“Oh goodness. Was it a traffic accident?”

“Um, no. She was at home and some men got in.
She’s ... her jaw is being fixed. They beat her up pretty bad.”

No answer and he dropped his hand from his
head.

“Hello? Missus Downey?”

“I—I’m on my way. She’s at the hospital in
Markham?”

“Yes ma’am. Will your husband be coming as
well?”

“Yes, we’ll come together. Sharon’s brother
just arrived as well.”

That surprised him. He wasn’t sure he knew
she had a brother.

“Good. We’ll see you when you get here then.”
Then he winced. That sounded fucking smart.

“Sorry, Mark?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you ... are you her young man?”

He wasn’t sure how to take that, either. But
lying wasn’t a great idea given the circumstances. “Um, yes ma’am.
I suppose I am.”

There was another pause. “I look forward to
meeting you.” That sounded like a lie.

“And I look forward to meeting you,
ma’am.”

“We’ll see you shortly, Mark.”

He hung up the phone and let out a long
breath as he disconnected the call. “Well that was fucking
painful.”

Buck sat on his opposite side and took back
his cell. “We got your back. Just remember that you’re going to be
dropping a few shocks on her folks all at once. You gotta let them
take that however they can.”

“Fuck man, I can’t do this.”

“You can and you will, because Sharon needs
you to.” That from Tiny of all people.

Fritter frowned. “First Knuckles now you. All
this sage advice coming out of the woodwork.”

“Fuck Knuckles,” Tiny muttered. “I’m pointing
out the fact there’s a kid on the way. You can’t run from that
shit.”

“I know, man. I ain’t.”

“Good.”

Fuck, this was weird.

“And even if these people hate you, they’re
still in your life. All they’re going to see is whether or not you
give a damn about their daughter. Everything else will sink in
later but the first thing they want to know is you give a shit. And
you’ve got that part down so don’t worry about it.”

Fritter had reached his peak of tolerance
with Tiny’s heart to heart, and after a wide-eyed exchange with
Buck he knew he wasn’t the only one. Mercifully, Tiny changed the
subject.

“Talked to Spaz earlier, too. He’s on Jolene
detail this week. She decided it was grocery shopping day. Trouble
was she woke up still totally tanked from the night before.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. They ran into Sharon there.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, she was on about wanting
to make something to take to Ma’s for dinner.” He actually smacked
his own forehead. “Shit, I gotta call Ma.”

“Well, Jolene made a scene. Spaz said Sharon
was pretty upset, but he was mostly focused on getting Jolene out
of there.”

“Made a scene?” What the hell? “How’d she
upset Sharon?”

“Starting shouting about Sharon being able to
have a kid, even though she was old. I’m telling you, there’s grief
and then there’s whatever the fuck Jolene has going on. I don’t get
women, never have, but I’d say she’s resenting how fast life just
keeps on keeping on. She’s still lost without Mickey and the other
women have their own shit going on. Babies on the way or already
here. Maybe she expected life to stop but ...” Tiny ran his hand
through his hair roughly. “I don’t know. Like I said ... women make
fuck all sense.”

“Damn.” Fritter chewed all that over. “Poor
Jolene.”

“Yeah, well, the scene she made was loud
enough that I’m sure by now the town knows about the Sheriff’s
little on-board deputy.”

“Oh fuck me,” he muttered, scrubbing his face
with both hands then patting his pockets. “Fuck, now I really gotta
call Ma. Shit, where’s my phone?”

“You forgot it, you idiot.” Tiny reached into
the front pocket of his flannel shirt and handed over his burner.
“Use mine.” Then he got to his feet. “I’ll leave you to it
then.”

With a grateful smile, Fritter punched in his
mother’s number, knowing the bomb had already dropped. He’d wanted
to break it to her gently, in her kitchen, good food in everyone’s
stomach, sitting around the table with sweet tea, Sharon already
comfortable in his Ma’s presence. But that wasn’t an option
anymore.

With a grimace he entered the last digit then
waited for her to answer.

With a muffled shout Sharon came awake,
sitting up in her bed and blinking against the harsh lights. This
wasn’t her room, and as pain bloomed all over her body from the
sudden movement she winced and eased herself back to the hospital
mattress.

She had no idea how she’d fallen asleep;
every part of her ached to the core of every muscle, through the
length of every tendon. Thank Christ her jaw was wrapped like Fred
Flintstone with a toothache. Wrenching that back out of place would
hurt like a bitch.

Flashes came back, a pain-soaked montage of
waking because of anguish as big arms wrapped around her and picked
her up off her living room floor. She’d immediately collapsed into
tears, mind going back to the fact that the bastards had shot her
dog. Then the smell of smoke, coughing which, for the record, hurt
enough with bruised ribs but with a dislocated jaw it was enough to
make a person nearly throw up. Next came fresh air on her face,
sunshine, and as she’d blinked away the fog of unconsciousness
she’d recognized Tiny Gray looming over her, cradling her and
touching her here and there as though assessing damage.

All she could do was cry about Earp.

He’d only said one line in that whole time
before the ambulance rushed her away. “Tough little bitch you are,
Sheriff. You killed three Dirty Rats.”

Her reply, “There were four of them.” She
couldn’t talk clearly, it came out like mumbling but he nodded to
show he understood.

The hospital had been its own agony. She was
pretty sure she’d passed out in the ambulance, clinging to Tiny
like a simpering child. He let her do it, squeezing back when she’d
tighten up from a jolt or movement that wrenched something.

Then examinations from different emergency
room doctors. One had said sharply and clearly over the din of
medical equipment and instructions, “We’re going to check the baby,
Sharon. We want to make sure the little sprout is okay.”

So she didn’t have to tell them she was
pregnant. That was handy.

They must have given her something, because
she’d relaxed and fallen asleep. And now here she was, room lights
dim. The window had its blinds drawn but she could tell by the
light then sun was nearly down or had just taken the dip under the
horizon.

Where the fuck was everyone?

She turned her head to the side, watching the
door. No movement. She turned back to the window, blinking rapidly.
Shit, she was really hoping
someone
would be here—

The door opened and she heard the voice
before she saw her mother. “I’m just going to check. I don’t care
what he says. I’m her mother—”

Sharon’s lip trembling as her mother stopping
in the entry, hand going to her mouth. Then the woman was perched
on the edge of the bed, doing her best to hug her daughter without
jostling her. Sharon let the tears come, pressing her face into her
mother’s permed hair, scenting home and letting comfort wash
through her. Age didn’t mean shit. Everyone needed their mom
sometimes.

“Honey, I’m so glad you’re okay.” Her mother
eventually sat up, wiping her eyes. As she did Sharon spied her
father lingering behind her mom, smiling and giving her a familiar
wink.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.”

She put an arm out and her father did the
same odd, arm around the back of her neck hug her mother had
delivered, adding a kiss on the top of the head. “You scared us,
Sharon.”

She nodded, wishing she could move her mouth.
But the aching at the joint of her jawbones was getting intense
just from trying not to cry.

“And we’re glad that the ... baby is going to
be okay.” Her mother said cautiously, putting a hand on Sharon’s
stomach and keeping her eye contact warm.

Sharon raised her eyebrows.

Her father replied. “Yeah, honey. We heard.
Mark told us when we got here.”

“And we met him, finally, too.” Her mother
raised an eyebrow. “He’s very bossy, Sharon. I hope he isn’t so
domineering when—”

“What are you doing bothering her?”

They all turned and her mother got up from
the bed, sighing in exasperation and crossing her arms while she
stared Fritter down. “She woke up. I wanted to see her and she was
already awake. I didn’t want her alone when she woke up.”

“She needs rest,” Fritter snapped, moving
forward.

Sharon could only stare as he moved, giving
her parents the stink eye like they’d been caught doing something
wrong. Her mother huffed, her father hid a smile and placed a hand
on her arms, leading her to the door. “We should give them a
minute, honey,” he said softly, winking at Sharon again.

Was Fritter Horton giving her parents
shit?

With a gentle sigh her hand was captured in
both of his, and the door clicked closed behind her parents as he
pressed her hand to his lips. He sank into a chair that was next to
the bed, angled to face her. “Fuck baby,
fuck
.”

She frowned, watching him close his eyes and
pull himself together. Apparently that composure was just for
telling off her parents.

“Thought I was going to lose you and the
baby. I have never been so scared.”

She ran the fingers of her other hand through
his hair, wincing at the pull in her ribs but not caring. His blue
eyes came to hers and she tried to smile.