He got a photo of their plate as well. One never knew what might be helpful information later. Hopefully there would be no later. Hopefully Michael would be taken care of before the sun rose. But it was wise to have contingencies, especially since nothing had gone to plan since he’d killed that motherfucker Brewer.

There were only three vehicles left—the Chevy Suburban that Deacon Novak had shown up in, a smaller-model Jeep than the one that had just left, and a sedan he hadn’t been able to see earlier because it had been surrounded by behemoth SUVs. He noted all the license plates.

A quick search showed that the sedan belonged to Dani and the smaller Jeep belonged to Faith Novak, who was the Fed’s wife, according to the article Cade had read. Her presence didn’t matter to him. He could disable a woman if he needed to. He hoped he wouldn’t need to. All he really needed to do was sit and wait for Deacon and his wife to go to sleep. Then the house would be quiet. And I can take care of Michael.

Bridgetown, Ohio
Monday, March 18, 2:45 a.m.

“I’ll go to Stone,” Dani said, stopping Diesel at his front door. “You go get some clean towels and a pair of scissors or a sharp knife.” She was digging in her purse and brought out a sealed plastic bag filled with disposable gloves. “I’ll also need a flashlight, unless you have outdoor floodlights.” She gave him a slight shove when he stood there, staring at her. “Go.”

Diesel stared. “You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you go out there alone.”

“Scott King is not out there. Stone is, and he’s been there for over an hour, dammit. He’s been unconscious and he’s got to have lost a lot of blood. Bring a blanket, too.” She opened the door and glared at him. “Go!”

Diesel cursed under his breath, but turned to do as he’d been told. It took him a full minute and a half to gather all the items she’d demanded. A minute and a half during which he cursed Scott King to hell.

“Dani!” he shouted as he left the house at a run, his arms full.

“Over here,” she called back. “To your left.”

Diesel found her kneeling at Stone’s side, stethoscope in her ears and holding a small penlight between her teeth. One of her gloved hands put pressure on his leg, the other held the bell of the stethoscope to his chest.

Dropping to Stone’s other side, he spread out one of the towels and dumped all the supplies on it. Then his breath caught. Even in the small light provided by the penlight, he could see that Stone looked bad. He was pale, sweaty, and trembling, teeth gritted against the pain. But conscious. Thank God.

“What do you need first?” Diesel choked out.