Beau’s phone is in his back pocket. I slide it out and have a momentary breakdown when I realize he has a fingerprint lock on it.
“Good thing you have his hands,” I chastise myself out loud. My heart pulls at how his hand is just as cold from sweat as his neck.
Thankfully, the phone recognizes him. His cell phone unlocks with beautiful speed.
I pull up his recent contacts. The last call he made was to the contact name Lee—Brother.
Well, that’s simple enough.
I press on the name. My finger is almost on the call button that pops up next, but a sound outside makes all of me freeze.
It’s a car coming, and since this isn’t the most popular location, I have to assume they’re coming for us.
I look down at the unconscious Beau. At the blood on his shirt. At the sweat on his face. Then at the phone in my hand.
I don’t know Lee from Adam, but I sure hope Beau’s faith in him is up to snuff.
Because I’m going to need all the help I can get.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
Kissy
Lee answersthe phone on the third ring. Every second he doesn’t pick up, I freak out a little more. It doesn’t help that I’m splitting my energy between focusing on it and my more daunting task.
Dragging Beau Montgomery across the hardwood floor like he’s a rag doll.
“Hey, I’m still doing some digging,” Lee says when he answers. “Can I—”
“This isn’t Beau.” I stop my pulling on Beau and readjust the phone between my shoulder and ear. It’s already slipping, but I need to let Lee know our situation has drastically changed since the last time I’m guessing he talked to his brother.
A situation I’m sure is about to rock Lee Montgomery’s world.
“I’m Kissy, Kissy Lawson, and we need your help.” The phone slips again as I’m trying to grab onto Beau’s arms. I realize I can’t do both tasks together well, and I need to get one done quick. “But first I need to drag him to the bathroom, so hold on.”
I can hear Lee saying something, but I put him in my back pocket and get to pulling again. There’s a compact full bathroom tucked behind the stairs. The Fulton’s expanded the half bath when Mrs. Fulton got her hip replacement and had to spend her recovery downstairs.
I’m thankful it isn’t too far off.
Fresh sweat starts beading along my hairline at the exertion, a few drops roll down my back. On a normal day, Beau’s height difference against mine is intriguing, sexy even. Right now, I wish he was small enough to pick up and throw around. Instead, it takes me several Mississippis to get him through the open door. A few more to pull him up against the side of the tub.
He slouches against it and the wall to its side.
I stand tall and fish the phone back out of my pocket. Lee’s still talking, but I rush over him and don’t hear a word he’s said. “We got chased by two men from the Renard Cemetery in Robin’s Tree all the way to the old Fulton house foreclosure off Killcreek Road.” I’m talking faster than normal. Breathing harder too. I hope Lee isn’t the kind of man who needs things repeated a whole lot. I haven’t heard a car door shut yet, but I assume it’s coming. “One of the men was at the sheriff’s department this morning talking to the sheriff—he said his name is Grant. Beau called the sheriff in to meet us at the cemetery, but Grant showed up instead. He stabbed Beau before we got away from him.”
I pause here because I’m thinking about his wound. How he’s slumping. I can see the rip in his shirt. The blood too.
Lee uses the pause. “Is Beau breathing?” His words are damn flat. It would hurt my heart if my heart didn’t have bigger worries.
“Yeah. He told me he was going to pass out, and he did. The wound…” I bend over and move the hole in the shirt around to get a better sense of it.
Thank goodness I’m not weak-stomached about blood like June is.
“It’s nasty but doesn’t look that deep,” I keep on. “I think he passed out from overtaxing his leg. We did a lot of running.”
“And the reason you’re calling me and not an ambulance?” Lee’s tone changes from flat to a smooth kind of calm.
“Beau told me to only call you,” I reply.
