Page 86 of Daybreak

And while they were waiting for the doctor, Gunner’s phone began to ring. He quickly handed it to Holly. “It’s Asher. Would you do the honors and answer it, then put it on Speaker?”

She nodded. “Hey, Asher, this is Holly.”

“Hey, Holly. My brother is all over social media. Is he okay?”

“More or less,” she said. “Just a sec and I’ll put the phone on Speaker.” As soon as she had it switched, she laid it on the bed near his head.

“Hey, Ash, I’m just a little bruised. My right arm caught the worst of the impact when we hit the pavement. I’m missing a little skin and have a cut that needs stitches,” Gunner said.

“Oh, we saw the video. And the blood dripping down your arm afterward, and the cops hauling Whistler off to jail.”

“Well, I’m sorry about the shock value. Nothing’s broken. Everything will heal. It’s just gonna hurt for a while, but this nightmare is finally over,” Gunner said.

“I will not rest until you get your ass out of Dallas,” Asher said. “Dad saw the video. Someone at the bar showed it to him. He’s crowing like the only rooster in the pen about his son, the hero, and Dylan’s only comment isn’t for polite company.”

When Gunner heard the rooster reference, he winked at Holly. “Holly drove me to the ER. Trust me when I say, I am in good hands. She’s already squashed a nurse who made light of the situation.”

“Good for her. Hey, Holly, thanks for being there for him, and welcome to the family.”

Holly was beaming. “Happy to be here. Oh… The doctor’s coming.”

“Right! If the doctor decides his brain is falling out, let me know,” Asher said and hung up.

“My brain is fine,” Gunner muttered, and then the doctor walked in.

“I’m Dr. Stanley. This is my nurse, Rita. I know what brought you here, and I saw the video of you take a flying leap into the air and T-bone a man on a Harley. So, we need to remove your shirt and jeans. You don’t have to move. Rita is going to cut them off for you.”

Gunner eyed Rita. “Slowly, if you please.”

She stifled a giggle. “You aren’t my first victim, and yes, I will cut slow.”

“Many thanks,” Gunner said.

When the shirt came off, the doctor frowned at Gunner’s chest and midriff. Severe bruising was already evident.

“If you don’t have cracked ribs, I’ll be surprised. They’re bringing a portable X-ray machine.”

Holly had moved out of the way as they were removing Gunner’s clothing. First the shirt, then the jeans. That’s when she saw the bruises already making themselves known. There was a big one on his right thigh, and another one near his right knee. All on the side he fell on. It was terrible to see him in so much pain, but she would not look away. Have mercy, Lord. How is he still upright and walking?

The portable X-ray arrived. The technician took photos as directed—of his chest and his jaw—then left to get them ready for the doctor.

Once they removed the field dressings from his arm, they began cleaning up the raw places and flushing the cut of any possible debris.

When they finally numbed the area where they were going to put stitches, she breathed a sigh of relief.

For Gunner, numbing was a godsend. He gave Holly a wink to let her know he was okay and then closed his eyes as the doctor took the first stitch.

* * *

When the homicide detectives in the downtown division of the Dallas PD found out Beau Whistler was in custody and that Gunner Kingston had taken him down, they were torn between pride that he’d been one of them and guilt for how he’d been treated when he’d turned in his resignation.

When Greg Rance saw the video, his first thought was that the man was crazy, and the second thought, that he was absolutely fearless. They’d lost a good man because of an informant, and he’d been a royal jerk. It was a hard pill to swallow.

Cliff Beale was proud on Gunner’s behalf and didn’t mind telling anyone who would listen that Kingston had once been his partner.

Frankie Adams was sitting quietly at her desk, watching the video over and over like some action-adventure movie. It was hard to imagine this wasn’t fake. That there hadn’t been any stunt men taking over to create this reality. The way Gunner held Whistler down—without a weapon to protect himself—without handcuffs to subdue him. Bleeding like a stuck pig without flinching. It was so damn heroic she wanted to cry. She didn’t know what made men like that, but she wished one of them was hers.

* * *