Page 48 of Violent Skies

“Be quiet or I’ll slip you laxatives,” I tease and sit against the shitty hospital mattress by her feet to catch my breath. “He’s going to lock you in a tower.”

She nods, knowing that I’m talking about how Riggs is going to react to all of this and knowing that I’m right. One look at Birdie and he’s going to lose his fucking mind.

“My shift is almost done so, I’ll take you for that CT and we can face him together?” I ask her.

“I’m not scared of him,” she says after a moment. It’s meant to be a thank you but she’s not very forthright with those. She never has been. I nod softly, give her leg a pat before going to fetch the wheelchair.

Birdie drops the envelope of cash on the hood of Rafe’s car and I think she expects Riggs to change his tune when he sees it, but it only makes everything worse. I shouldn’t have let her convince me to drive by the Skyline to grab it, but what Birdie wants, she gets.

“I told you not to go to that.” His brows furrow deeply and every muscle in his neck, shoulders and arms are tight with worry. Rafe hovers as Birdie sinks to the couch and lays her head back, clearly in a decent amount of discomfort but completely unbothered by Riggs’ glare.

As the panic passes of getting Birdie home safe I realize that Rafe is also in rough shape.

“What the hell happened to you?” I ask, tilting his head to the side. The cuts had been cleaned, but it looks like someone with a hand full of thumbs did it. He winces slightly as I jostle him and I step back, looking at how he’s holding himself. I push his hand out of the way, pulling up his sweater to expose a large, bloody-looking bruise. “Rafe,” I hiss.

“I’m fine. What happened to Bird?”

“She’s got a mild concussion,” I explain, keeping my back to them and staring out into the darkness that engulfs the trees outside the garage. “I have to take her back in a week to get her eyesight checked.”

Riggs looks over and down at me with a dark sigh. “Is that all?” It’s meant to be a simple question but it comes from his lips like an accusation that we’re hiding something else.

“That’s all.” Leave it to Riggs to remind me just as quickly that he’s not Koa. One kiss isn’t enough to soften him. It barely chipped away the concrete that he wrapped himself in. I know the teenager I grew up with is there, the free and wild boy that never considered the risks a day in his life, but he’s got too many people to look after now, too many family members with that carefree mentality to protect. “She’ll be okay.”

“For now,” he snaps, his head turning back to them. “Call Bowie.”

“What? Why?” Rafe is quick to protest.

“Because I’m not leaving her and Jet in the dark anymore. Get Jesse and Jake down here. We need all the help we can get.” He nods to Birdie who gets her phone out. About ten minutes later, Bowie appears in the door of the barn. Older now, but still giving off the presence of a lion. Thick blonde hair that wraps around her round jaw and pairs perfectly with her shark-sharp smile and big blue eyes.

“Oh I fucking missed you!” She eyes me, reaching out before I can say anything else and pulls me into a hug. “Rafe sent out a dramatic text like he was dying,” she mumbles into my hair as she pulls back and crosses her arms over her chest.

“I am,” Rafe coughs. The bruises under his eyes are so dark and I curse myself for not noticing before.

“Where’s Jet?” Riggs asks.

“They’re at the bar. We can’t just leave it unattended ‘cause you blow in your seashell…” Bowie scowls at him and it’s good to know the animosity between the two of them is going strong.

“Holy shit.” Bowie drops her arm from my back the second her eyes find Birdie and as she starts to fawn over her, Jesse pulls up around the back in his truck. A tall kid with shaggy blond hair that curls around his ears and bright, ocean eyes climbs out from the passenger side in a pair of jeans and a shirt that’s two sizes too big for his frame. He and Bowie could be twins but I’ve never seen him before in my life. This must be Jake.

“Was it Pema?” Jake drops to the side of the couch and reaches over the arm toward Birdie, who swats him away with heavy, exhausted fingertips. Their reaction is similar and suddenly Riggs has their attention.

“No.” Riggs shakes his head. “You should have had her back.”

“Don’t.” Birdie’s voice is hoarse. “He gave me a heads up to bounce. He had no idea what I was driving into.” She defends her friend and Jake grimaces as she speaks.

“Sorry, Bird,” he whispers.

“The Westfalls are pawns in this game too,” Riggs says next. “It’s someone bigger.”

“A new player?” Bowie asks.

“They have bounties on our heads,” Rafe says and everyone goes quiet. “A booty call did this to me.” He points to the bandage around his bicep. “For twenty grand.” He walks toward Murphy’s desk and waves around a phone I don’t recognize.

Birdie’s too drugged to tell them, so I fill Bowie and Jake in on what happened with us. Slowly, I watch as she goes through every emotion we’ve been feeling for the last while. She suggests the same things that we did: leveraging the garage, racing, but she has no new ideas.

“We’re past that,” Riggs says. “It’s clear that this isn’t about money.”

Birdie’s head is tucked against Bowie on the couch, her one eye looking more swollen than before as she lets Bowie brush her fingers through dark strands of hair and tries not to fall asleep.