Page 6 of Givin' Me Fitz!
He smirked. “He’s looking at a lot of jail time, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he tries. When they think there’s a chance to get out of town without getting caught, most of them will make a break for it. We’re here to be sure he doesn’t.”
Before I could think about Monty’s comment or formulate a response, his phone rang. Monty picked it up from the console and smiled. “Yeah, Jesse?”
I couldn’t hear what the man was saying, but Monty’s smile didn’t fade. “Babe, I’m in North Las Vegas watching Russell Wycoff’s place. I’m with Fitz, and we’ll be here until Keats and Digs relieve us. Is Hardy home?”
Monty chuckled. “Okay. We’ll be back soon. Love you.” He ended the call, and I was in awe. It was normal for them—calling your significant other to see how their day was going. Monty looked genuinely happy to hear from Sparky. No embarrassment at all.
Where did someone find a guy like that, because my luck was for shit. I just had to know one thing. “Can I ask you a question?”
Monty turned in my direction with a grin. “Sure.”
“How the hell did you know Sparky wasthe one?”
Monty took a deep breath before he answered me. “I was in love with that man for years, but I didn’t think he knew it. When we finally figured our shit out, we just got married and started our life. It’s strange that it took so long for it to happen.”
Damn!It sounded so easy, but I knew that wasn’t always the case. I had experience with how easy itwasn’t. “Good for you.” I was sure my face was green with jealousy.
Suddenly, we were jolted by a car banging into the back of Monty’s truck. I turned to look out the rear window as Monty looked in the rearview. We both saw the driver-side airbag deployed in the small Ford sedan now kissing Monty’s bumper.
Monty hopped out and walked back to the driver’s side before he rushed back to the truck. “Come help me get her out of the car. She’s old, and I think the airbag knocked her out.”
I scrambled out of the truck and followed Monty back to the car. The window was down, not surprisingly, so I popped the lock and climbed into the passenger’s seat to stabilize her neck.
“Call 9-1-1.” Monty retrieved his phone from the clip on his belt and quickly called for an ambulance.
A car screeched out of the cul-de-sac and honked, likely in complaint because the driver couldn’t see around the two vehicles to know if there was traffic coming. Monty glanced their way. “Motherfucking son of a bitch.”
The woman whose head I was holding opened her eyes and smiled. “You’re handsome. I’m Gilda. What’s your name?”
Monty was stomping toward his truck before he banged on the back door as he continued his tirade. He whipped his phone out and called someone.
Meanwhile, I still had my hands on the old lady’s neck. “Excuse me. Can you unhand me?” She stared as if I was offending her.
“Ma’am, you’ve had an accident. The airbag deployed, and you could have a neck injury. I’m immobilizing your neck until the ambulance arrives.”
The old woman jerked away from me. “Unless you plan to ask me for a date, I’d say get your hands off me. I’m fine, young man. You’re trespassing.”
Trespassing?Obviously, she’d hit her head.
“Ma’am, what’s your name?” I was staring into her eyes, surprised they weren’t blown from the head wound I was sure she’d suffered.
The driver’s door was pulled open, and the woman, Gilda, whipped her head around. Monty stood next to her, a thunderous expression clouding his face. “You’re Gilda Wycoff. Get your old ass out of there.”
I was shocked, but I scrambled out of the car and stepped around the front to support Monty—or figure out what the fuck had happened. “What’s going on?” I kept my voice low, hoping the old woman didn’t hear me.
She stepped out of the car and cackled. “Day late and a dollar short, hot stuff.”
Glancing at Monty, I saw pure rage. “You did this on purpose, Miss Gilda. You created the distraction that allowed your grandson to take off, but I can promise you, he’ll be caught before the morning, and guess what? If he’s not, we own that shithole you live in,Grandma.”
“Grandma? She’s his—” I was stunned.
“Yes, Agent Morgan, this is Gilda Wycoff, Russell’s grandmother. She came into our office and signed the bond, using her home as collateral, and she just helped him get away. What she doesn’t know or refuses to understand is that if he doesn’t show up at court in the morning, she’ll lose her house.” He turned to the little old woman with the smirk on her wrinkled face. “I have absolutely no compunction about being herepersonallyto throw your shit out at the curb.”
The woman sucked in air. “You’d throw an old defenseless woman out on the street? Would your mother approve of that, Monty Montgomery?”
Monty’s nostrils flared. “Mrs. Wycoff, your grandson is going to jail for a long time. Hell, you’ll probably be dead before he gets out. He ran over a young man on a crosswalk because he was under the influence of alcohol and over twice the limit. Don’t you think the deceased young man deserves justice? Did he deserve to die because your grandson decided to go out and get rip-roaring drunk before he got behind the wheel of an SUV?”
Once again, the old woman laughed. An ambulance pulled up behind her old Ford, with a cop car trailing. Without a word to me, Monty turned his attention to the old woman, who stumbled and began to fall. Monty caught her before she hit the asphalt.
