Page 73 of Givin' Me Fitz!
“Those guys could have killed you a few years ago, but I kept it from happening by promising them the Cowboys would relinquish their territory and leave Pahrump. It’s time to repay the debt. Let’s not make this into a war. Nobody wins that way.”
Keller sat behind the wheel and closed the door. He rolled the window down and hollered, “Meet me and your mother at the casino for breakfast in the morning. Be there at eight.” The idea of it made me sick.
I climbed the stairs with TJ in my arms, knocking with my foot. The door opened, and Fitz’s face morphed from worry to shock at the sight of the bloody young man in my arms. I handed TJ over and ran off the porch to puke in the street.
I wiped my mouth and stopped at the hose hanging off the front of the house to rinse my mouth. After I finished, I went inside to close and lock the door. Much to my surprise, Hobie was asleep in the recliner Fitz had bought, and there was a pistol resting on his chest.
Deep breaths. Deep breaths.
I put my hand over the gun and shook him a little, holding onto it in case my father had told him to kill all of us after he was gone. I didn’t want to believe my best friend would shoot me in cold blood, but I never thought my father would turn against the club his father had started.
Wrapping my head around the night would have to wait. My brain was on autopilot. Keeping Fitz safe, along with TJ and his grandfather, was foremost on my mind.
Hobie’s eyes flashed open and he tried to pull the gun from me, but I held him down with my left hand, grabbing the gun with my right and holding it under his chin. “Why do you need this? Why are you back here? Did Keller tell you to clean this up?”
“Your man called me. His friend in New York ran across some information that Fitz couldn’t believe. He trusted me, and after what he told me, I’m glad he did, Bones.”
Hobie moved the chair into the sitting position before standing and holding up his hands. He slid off his jacket and lifted his shirt, showing me that he had no additional weapons, which was a relief. I hated the idea that he’d turn on me like my own father.
“Make us some coffee, please. Let me go check on Fitz and TJ.” I wasn’t stupid. I shoved the gun in the back of my pants on my way out of the living room.
I found Fitz in the bathroom with TJ standing under the spray of the shower. The kid was awake, washing himself as Fitz sat on the commode lid with a first aid kit spread out on the vanity. “You’ve gotta tell me where it hurts so we know what to do for you.”
“My ribs, my chest, and my junk. Those two guys fought dirty. I think the cut on my forehead stopped bleeding, finally.”
“I’ll check it and use some glue to keep it together. Head injuries bleed like a son of a bitch, but they heal quickly.” Fitz reached for an antiseptic pad and a tube of skin glue.
I opened the door the rest of the way. “Babe, what can I do?”
Fitz turned to me and sighed. “Thank fucking god you’re okay. You are okay,aren’t you?”
He stood and walked over to me, wrapping me in his arms. “What the fuck is going on, Sawyer?”
I rested my head on his shoulder and finally let the tears come. My whole world had crashed down in front of me at the hands of my own father. How was I supposed to explain that?
I woke up the next morning at five, according to Fitz’s alarm clock. I reached over to find the bed was empty, so I hopped up and rushed into the living room and to the front door. Fitz and TJ were stretching in the front yard, which surprised me.
I went outside in just my boxers. “What the hell are you two doing?”
Fitz turned and grinned. “We’re going for a run. TJ needs to work out the soreness. He’s got a fight tomorrow night.”
“Babe, he’s taking a dive. He doesn’t need to do anything except defend himself so Garza doesn’t kill him. I don’t think it’ll be a fair fight now that they know TJ can hold his own. Those two guys he was fighting at the Scorpions clubhouse were huge and neither of them were Garza.” It was truly a wonder TJ was still alive.
Fitz laughed and sat up. “Well, we’re not going to let that fly. I gave the kid a rubdown with some analgesic balm. We’re going to jog over to Sparky’s place where the kid’s going to take a cold plunge in Monty’s tank. He’s taken some pain meds, and when you come pick us up at eight this morning, we can stop and get something to eat, then you can tell me what the fuck is going on.” He handed me the keys to his truck and kissed my cheek.
TJ held out his hand, so I took it and helped him up. His painful moan made me feel sorry for him. Before I could ask if they were sure they wanted to run all the way over to Sparky’s house—which wasn’t that far, but considering TJ’s current state, nobody could pay me enough to do it—they were off.
I went back inside and closed the door, heading to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. A minute later, Hobie came into the kitchen in his T-shirt and boxers, having slept in the recliner for a few hours since I filled him in on what the fuck had happened last night before we both crashed. TJ had slept on the couch in the living room.
“That kid must be made of steel. He moaned and groaned all night. Where’d he go?” Hobie got two cups from the cabinet as if he lived in the house with Fitz where I wanted to be more than anything.
“You come hang out here often?” I chuckled because Hobie knew exactly where the sugar was and grabbed the milk from the fridge.
Hobie laughed. “Fitz has a good sense of organization. His choices are intuitive. I like to think we’re of the same mind.”
I laughed. “Ah. Good for you.”
I got up and poured each of us a cup of coffee and opened the cabinet next to the stove to pull out two packages of toaster pastries, knowing my man would have bought a new box since they were his favorites. I handed a package to Hobie and returned to my seat.
