Page 107 of S.O.S. Billboard

Billboard carefully went down the first two steps, saw that the area below him was dimly lit, and paused to listen. No noise hit his ears, which could be good…or very bad.

Keeping his gun raised, he furtively crept downward. He was just about to clear the rough stairwell when he heard…a footfall?

Wasting no time he leapt to the dirt floor and…

“Shit!”

A chair came crashing toward his head and he was barely able to deflect it with his arm before it headed for him again. He grabbed a leg and held on. “Drop it!” he ordered.

“B…Billboard?”

“O’Shea?” Billboard released the chair and it fell to the floor, revealing… “Oh my God. What did they do to you?”

O’Shea took one staggering step toward him and would have collapsed, but at the last second, Billboard dropped his weapon and caught her up under her arms.

She looked at him, her face a bloody mess. “Nice to see you,” she gasped, then her eyes rolled back in her head and she passed out in his arms.

“Call for an ambulance,” Billboard yelled, but he might have saved his breath. The guys who’d already piled in after him, were wayaheadof him. Billboard became aware that Perk, with his phone to his ear, was rattling off the address to someone.

But…

“Shit,” Billboard hissed, his brain momentarily engaging. “Perkins. You can’t call the locals. We don’t know who’s on Jakes’ payroll.”

“Don’t worry,” Perk assured him as he hung up. “I called Agent Vessers. She’s sending a secure pick-up for O’Shea, and she’s on her way to help straighten out the rest of this Charlie-Foxtrot.”

Subsequently, Billboard was too preoccupied cradling a comatose O’Shea and cataloguing her visible injuries to pay much attention to things going on around him. But he was still aware that the team was giving Perk a ration of shit.

“Agent Vessers, huh?” Daire asked, a smirk in his voice. “That wouldn’t be Ms. Badass from Anna Jakes’ house, would it?”

“And how did you get her number?” Prez asked in a similar vein. “Boss,” he turned to Del. “I think we’re going to have to keep a closer eye on this one. He’s a lot slicker than we thought.”

“Leave Perk alone,” Del chastised, coming over and shining a penlight on O’Shea’s face. Like Billboard, he wasn’t in the mood for banter. “She looks pretty rough,” he gruffed to Billboard before laying his fingers on the side of O’Shea’s neck. “Pulse is strong, though. And she must have had something left in the tank to attack you like she did with that chair.”

Billboard took heart from the boss’s words, hoping he wasn’t just blowing smoke, but that wasn’t normally Del’s way. Billboard stared down at O’Shea’s battered and bruised countenance, if only…

“Let’s get her out of here,” Wiley suggested, snapping Billboard away from the regrets he had for not being with O’Shea tonight. Wiley was right. The sooner they got O’Shea out of this house, the better they’d all feel.

“I’ll grab Jakes,” Daire said.

“I’ll bring the basement guy,” Prez added.

“And I’ll pick up the one we knocked out upstairs.” Perk had regained his easy, seemingly innocent demeanor, but even Billboard, in his distracted state, knew the man was in for a ration of shit once the mood lightened and they knew O’Shea was going to be okay.

Please let her be okay.

The next twenty minutes went by with Billboard only vaguely aware of the bustle going on. He’d arrived out in the front yard still cradling O’Shea, and had sunk onto a stone wall by the driveway, waiting for help.

His team came and went. Agents came and went. Thenfinallythe ambo pulled in, lights flashing. Billboard had never been so happy to see EMS.

Two paramedics hustled out of the back, and ran directly to him, equipment in hand.

“Can you tell us what happened?” one asked while hooking O’Shea up to a blood pressure cuff and a pulse/ox device.

“We’re not sure,” Billboard responded gruffly. “They…they beat her up, pretty badly.”

Paramedic number two brushed the hair back from O’Shea’s battered face, and noted the large knot that was forming. “Looks like a possible concussion. Was she awake when you got to her?”

Billboard started answering their rapidly fired questions as competently as he was able, but when a third EMT from the crew rolled the gurney over and attempted to take O’Shea from his arms, he growled. “I’ll do it.”

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