Page 90 of Fast Vengeance

It’s over.

The capsule. They’d fucking poisoned him.

But how? Who?

He shook his head, his body bucking on the concrete floor as he fought for air. There was none. And no one came to help him.

His heart stopped.

His mouth opened, his bulging eyes fixed on the concrete ceiling above him as the darkness took over, leaving him with one final, haunting thought.

Who the fuck had done this to him?

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Bet it feels good to be getting the hell out of here, huh?” Lockhart said as he pushed Brock’s wheelchair toward the hospital exit.

“You have no idea.” He’d only been in three days up here in D.C., two before his shoulder surgery and one after, but they had felt like an eternity without Tori.

He hadn’t even been able to tell her goodbye. They’d given him something before loading him on the transport back to D.C. with her. When he’d woken up, he had been in his hospital room and she had been gone.

He’d never known pain like that. The kind that made it feel like his chest was being split open from the inside.

And he loved how everyone including the medical staff kept telling him to rest, when it seemed like someone was in his room every fucking ten minutes to poke or prod him for something. Blood sample. Blood pressure. Body temp. Giving him a shot of something.

You’re just a grumpy asshole because Tori’s gone. You should have told her everything when you had the chance.

It hurt too much to think about, so he shoved it aside. He’d have plenty of time to wallow in his own self-pity once he got home.

“Okay, this is us,” Lockhart said, hitting the keyfob and sliding the side door of the vehicle open.

Brock stared at it in horror. “A minivan?” He cranked his head around to stare up at Lockhart. “Since when do you drive a minivan?”

“Ha. This is Taggart’s wife’s ride. You think I’d ever own one of these?” He snorted, insulted. “Please. Taggart was busy with something and I didn’t want you to be stuck in here a moment longer than you had to be, so I said I’m come over and take you home. You’re welcome.” He pushed Brock over to it. “We thought this would make it easier for you to get in and out. You know, being that you’re a fucking cripple and all.”

Brock shot him a mock glare. “My legs work just fine. And this cripple can take you any day of the week, so you remember that.”

“Sure.” Lockhart set the brakes on the chair. “Climb in, Cap.”

He did, wincing as he pulled the seatbelt over his chest. His right arm was still bound to his chest with a sling to take the strain off his newly repaired shoulder, but the left side didn’t feel so great either. Thankfully the doc thought Brock would likely be able to return to his duties as FAST Bravo’s team leader once he was all healed up. As to when that would be, it all depended on how rehab went.

“Say cheese.”

Brock whipped his head around. “Wha—”

Lockhart snapped a picture of him with his phone and tucked it into his back pocket, grinning.

He shook his head. “Maka put you up to this, didn’t he?”

“He sure as shit did. And I’m getting a twelve-pack of beer for it, so it’s totally worth it.”

Brock couldn’t help but chuckle, then regretted it. “Ow. Fuck. Maka’s not even here and he’s making me laugh.”

“Laughter’s the best medicine, haven’t you heard?”

“Not when you have cracked ribs.”

“Yeah, okay. Maybe not then.” He hit the keyfob again, stood there grinning like an idiot as the side panel door slid closed. “You gotta admit, this is pretty handy.”

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