Walker Revenge (The Walker Family Series Book 5) (20 page)

She kissed him softly on the lips and sat
back in her chair. “Sorry, Phillip.”

“No need.”

“What do we do now?” she asked, in a
controlled tone.

“Did Dominic have any other friends? Anyone
you know?”

She shook her head. “None that I know of. He
went out a lot, but I never went with him.”

“How long were you together?” Phillip asked,
and Russell leaned in to get the answer for himself as well.

She winced. “I met him in April. I got
pregnant in May,” she said, and Russell could hear her choke on her
answer. “We got married in July right after I found out I was
pregnant. Lucas was born in February. Shortly after that he became
violent and I filed for divorce in May. I fought for full custody
and they granted it to me. A few weeks later he kidnapped Lucas.”
Her voice trembled, and Russell squeezed her hand. “We weren’t even
really together a year.”

It killed him to hear her go through that
timeline of her life. It had been Christmas when she told him she’d
be there for him. A few months later she emailed him and said she
was getting married. It had crushed him.

But to know that he’d been discharged and
returned home before Lucas was even born dug into his soul.

He’d fought with himself a million times to
go to her and get some answers. God, if he’d just done that, maybe
he could have saved her from so many things.

Phillip slid his phone into his pocket. “I’m
going to get to the bottom of this. You might not be training to be
a nurse, but you’re Russ’s nurse. Keep him in line, okay?”

She nodded and forced a smile.

“I’ll see you guys at Pearl and Tyson’s
wedding reception on New Year’s Eve, right?”

Russell had forgotten about that. “Yeah.
We’ll be there.”

Phillip gave them a nod and walked out of
the cafeteria.

“What reception?” she asked.

“They eloped. She wanted a party for New
Year’s Eve for her reception. I hadn’t thought much about it.”

“I think it’s sweet that they eloped.”

“With Byron Walker as your father, would you
want to mess with it?”

She chuckled. “I never really thanked you
for our wedding.” She reached her hand to his cheek. “No one else
in the world would have done something like that for me. I’m sorry
that you had to go through all of this, but I’m so glad it threw us
back together. I had missed you, Russell. I’m glad I never have to
miss you again.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “I
know the perfect way you can thank me,” he said with a wink, and
her cheeks filled with pink.

“Let me push you to the car. We’ll get home
faster that way.”

Chapter
Twenty-Three

Why people frowned upon marriage was a
mystery to Russell. Seriously, the perks were worth every fight he
knew he and Chelsea were going to have.

He’d been grateful that his mother had
wanted to take Lucas to visit Susan and Eric
, she’d said
with a grin. Wasn’t it also convenient that his father and brothers
were busy with the cattle?

The house had been theirs for hours. He’d
envisioned making love to Chelsea since the last time, years ago.
And especially since he’d seen her that first day in the hospital,
he’d dreamed about it every night. Of course, it certainly hadn’t
gone as planned.

He was still sore and bruised. Even though
he was wearing a boot and not a cast, his ankle was still broken.
His shoulder was stiff and didn’t want to move. And, there was that
little part of having just had a catheter, so some other parts were
sore too.

Chelsea laughed as she rolled onto her side,
her naked body exposed to him to look at and touch.

“Don’t be disappointed, Russ. To tell you
the truth, it’s been so long for me I might have forgotten what it
was like anyway. Just think, when everything works out, it’ll be
the best first time.”

He propped himself up on his elbow and ran
his finger over her collarbone. “Damn straight. I know you remember
how good I can be.”

“Oh,” she sighed. “I remember.”

He rolled back and looked up at the ceiling.
“You know, we need to find my driver’s license and get that
marriage finalized.” He smiled. “Maybe the sex will be better
then.”

Chelsea laughed. “Where should I look if
your mother didn't have it in your items from the hospital?”

Suddenly that came back to him. He sat up
and picked up his cell phone. “Jake, where’s my truck?” He nodded
and listened. “I’ll be there in a few hours.”

“What’s going on?”

“We have to go to town.” He swung his legs
over the edge of the bed and picked up his T-shirt. “Jake has my
truck. My wallet always fell out of my pocket and got lodged in the
seat. I’ll bet it’s there. But another thing,” he said as he turned
to her. “No one has mentioned my gun in the glove compartment.”

“You had a gun? What were you going to do
with that?”

“I’m a southern man. I keep a gun.” He
slowly pulled on the T-shirt. “The gun must not be there. Phillip
would have said something about it.”

“So, you think whoever ran you off the road
took it?”

“Yes, after I crashed. It was there when I
got into the truck because I took it out and laid it on the seat. I
was worked up, and you never know what might happen.”

“You would have shot someone?” She reached
for the sheet and pulled it up over her.

“No. I would have defended myself, if they
had
come after me face to face.”

“So why did they take off with it? Why not
shoot you with your own gun?”

“Because I was unconscious. They figured I’d
already been killed. And up until this very moment, everything has
been focused on the outside of the truck. We haven't thought about
the inside.”

She reached out to touch his arm. “Why did
someone want to hurt you?”

He shook his head. “I can’t even begin to
answer that. Not one bit of this makes sense. Wesley has to know
something about the person who hired him. Let’s go into town and
check the truck. Then we’ll go visit Phillip and see if he’s gotten
anywhere with Wesley.”

An hour later they were pulling into the lot
of Jake’s garage. The sun was low on the horizon, and the air was
cold, making Russell’s muscles ache as they’d never ached
before.

Jake came from the garage wiping his hands
on a greasy red towel. “I could have been home an hour ago,” he
said with a nod in their direction.

“Sure. That’s not some grandma’s car you're
working on in there,” Russ poked at him for working late on another
hot rod he was building as he climbed from the truck and waited for
Chelsea to bring the chair around. He’d found that even trying the
crutches with his sore arm was a bitch. The chair would have to do.
“When’s your next race?”

“Few months. You should come. It’s in
Florida. Nice and warm.”

Chelsea secured the chair next to him and
helped ease him in.

“Okay, where’s my truck?”

Jake pointed to the side of the garage, and
Chelsea pushed him toward the heap of metal that had caged him
in.

“Damn,” he said slowly on a breath that
escaped his lungs. Okay, they were right. He was lucky to be
alive.

“Oh, Russ,” Chelsea sobbed, and when he
looked at her, her hand had come to her mouth, and her eyes were
wet.

“You can go sit in the car if you need
to.”

She shook her head. “No. I’m fine.”

Jake tucked the rag into the pocket of his
coveralls. “What are you looking for?”

“My wallet often falls out of my pocket and
lodges itself in the seat. I haven’t seen it since I left the
bar.”

Jake nodded. “Okay, let me see what I can
find.”

He went to the truck and climbed through the
window of the passenger side. Russell watched as he contorted his
body in the smashed cab trying to flip the seats. A few moments
later, he reached his hand out the window with the wallet in his
hand.

“That’s it!” Russell hollered. “Now, do you
see my gun?”

“What the hell? You had your gun? Who were
you going to shoot?”

Chelsea laughed. “He’s a southern man. He
carries a gun.”

Jake nodded in agreement and went down in
the cab, searching. He took longer this time, and when he poked his
head out the window, he waved for them to come closer.

“You weren’t shot were you?” Jake asked.

“No.” Russell shook his head. “Why?”

“I would suppose that’s why they didn’t look
for bullet holes in your cab.” Confined in the small space of the
crushed cab, Jake pulled the back of the seat down to reveal a
bullet hole that would have been only inches from Russell’s head.
“Your gun isn’t here.”

“Son-of-a-bitch!” He turned to Chelsea. “I
guess they didn’t think I was dead enough.”

“I don’t like this, Russ.” She sobbed
again.

“Neither do I.”

Phillip sat at his desk and kept his eyes on
Russell as he relayed what they’d learned. “So now we have a hit
and run, burglary, and attempted murder for sure.” He ran his hand
over his head. “Seriously, we need some answers.”

“Check the pawn shops. Maybe they tried to
sell my gun.”

Phillip nodded and wrote a note on the pad
of paper on his desk.

“I talked to Wesley again. He admitted to
knowing Fiona, but only after I showed him the picture of her. The
name hadn't rung a bell. He says knows Dominic’s brother, but not
Dominic.”

Chelsea leaned in toward the desk. “Which
picture did you show him?”

Phillip turned toward his computer and typed
her name. He then turned the screen toward them.

“Are you shitting me?” Russell nearly stood
from his seat. “That’s her! That’s the woman that broke up the
fight.”

“The woman with the dark hair?”

“Well, yeah, but like you said, you can
change your appearance in three weeks easy.” He studied her closer.
“I remember thinking how old she looked and how she must have had a
horrible life. It shows on her face.”

He turned to Chelsea, whose eyes were wide
as she looked at the picture. “That’s her. I did see her. She had
on big sunglasses and a hat. So she didn’t really strike me as her,
but I felt it. I know I did.”

“Okay, let me make some calls. We might have
caught ourselves a break, especially if she took the gun.” He
picked up his phone from his desk. “Why don’t you guys head home.
I’ll call you when I learn something.”

Russell nodded. “Okay. But I think we’re
going to detour and get us a marriage license now that I have my
wallet.”

“Yep, better make that legal,” Phillip joked
as he dialed a phone number and waited for an answer.

Chapter
Twenty-Four

Very—very—slowly, Russell managed into the
county building on crutches. Not even laying in that bed after
surgery had hurt as much as it did taking his first assisted
steps.

“You should have waited,” Chelsea said as
she poised at every step to help him. “Let me go get the
wheelchair. You need more physical therapy.”

“Oh, this is therapy enough,” he laughed as
he winced at the pain.

He’d be damned if he’d roll in for the
license. He’d stood for the ceremony. It seemed fitting to him.

The process took a mere few minutes. That
surprised him. He was sure it would be like visiting the DMV where
you wait in line for hours.

“Okay, we just need to get Lydia’s signature
as the officiant and two witnesses,” Chelsea said as they made
their way back to the car.

“Easy enough. We head to the wedding mecca
and have Lydia, Pearl, and Gia sign off on our marriage.”

Chelsea let out a laugh that warmed his
heart. “It’s a good thing you’re related to everyone.”

“Yep, or you’d still be planning a wedding,”
he said with a wink.

As expected, all of the ladies were at their
stores. Gia and Sunshine, the young woman who floated between the
stores as an associate, were stocking the shelves with the new
wares Gia had brought back from her most recent trip to Lucca,
Italy. And Pearl was helping a new bride find the perfect dress.
Lydia was finalizing plans for Pearl and Tyson’s wedding
reception.

Chelsea had argued with him to use the
wheelchair, but he wanted to show off. He wanted to let them know
he hadn’t been broken.

Gia had been the first to rush him, though
carefully. She hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. A month ago
that would have done him in. There were times he was sure Dane
would have screwed it all up with Gia and he would have won. In
fact, now that she was kissing his cheek, he felt nothing but
sisterly love for her. Who would have known there was a bigger plan
in the works?

Pearl wasn’t as anxious to congratulate him,
hobbling around on crutches. She had a more motherly approach,
which had included her scolding him. That, he’d expected.

Lydia sat with them at a small table in the
corner of the event center where she had notebooks and paper strung
out.

“You don’t know a D.J. do you?” she asked,
as she cleared a place on the table.

Russell shook his head. “No. Can’t say that
I do.”

“The busier we get, the more people I need
in my contact list. Keep your ears open.”

“Sure will,” he said, with a grin on his
lips. “We need you to sign this.” He pushed to paper across the
table toward her.

“Ah! And we’re official,” she said, after
looking over the license and signing it. “Thanks for letting me be
part of it.”

“Thanks for not turning me down at one in
the morning.”

She laughed. “Who else would have thought to
put a wedding together in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve?
I couldn’t tell you no.” She leaned in over the table. “Are you
going to honeymoon?”

Chelsea shrugged. “We haven’t talked about
it. Right now isn’t the right time.”