grin on Brian’s face looked more insane than happy, and there was blood trickling from his nose. “Look what I caught.”
“What the fuck?” Nick said aloud, as his heart slowed from trying to climb into his throat and choke him. Brian was upright, moving, talking. Bleeding— but not badly. And sitting on some dude. “Who’s that?”
“Good question.” Brian thumped the man on the back. “Who are you?”
The man under him swore and bucked his body without dislodging Brian. Nick barely kept himself from kicking the guy in the head. Brian has him under control.
Brian looked back up. “I don’t think he wants to say.”
“What happened?” Nick knelt beside him. “You look rough. Need a hand?”
“He said someone wanted to talk to me about Turov.” Brian said it like he was reporting the sports score. “So I crashed the car.”
“You crashed— on purpose?”
“He had a gun.” Brian waved at the car, which yes, was the Taurus, damn it. “It’s in there probably.”
“Good plan.” Charlie’s voice was a hell of a lot calmer than Nick could manage. “Good execution.”
“What the fuck! Look at my car. Look at his face!” Nick bit back his rant as Charlie’s fingers clamped on his shoulder. Brian had dropped his gaze, biting his lip. If the guy with a gun on him ended up under his ass— “He didn’t shoot you?”
“I was driving too fast.”
“You’re really okay?”
“Yes, Nick.”
“Hey, don’t get sarcastic with me. You were scared, hurt, I felt it—” He broke off as Brian stared at him. “Never mind.” He cleared his throat. “Charlie’s right. You did good.”
“Charlie’s always right,” Charlie said. “Now what?”
The man under Brian growled, “Fucker. Lemme go. My fucking arm’s broken. You don’t want my boss mad at you. He’ll rip your balls off. Oof.” Another thump of Brian’s hand cut off the man’s words. Wow, hard-core, Brian. Nick didn’t think he’d ever seen Brian deliberately use his strength against someone.
“We can call the cops,” Charlie pointed out. “If there’s a gun in the back seat, that’s hard evidence, and this guy may have warrants or a record.” A grunt from the man suggested there was something to that. “Downside— they’re going to ask why he came after Brian, and that’s a whole can of worms we don’t want to open.”
“We can’t let him go. The douchebag tried to kidnap Brian.” Nick wasn’t about to turn him loose.
Charlie turned toward the sound of a car approaching over the rise. “We have to decide now. If someone stops and he’s not hidden, we’re going to have to call an ambulance and the cops.”
Nick bent to grip the bastard’s free foot, reaching for the hog-tied ankle. “Move him ’round the hidden side. We can tell them no one’s hurt and we called it in already.” Brian went up front and grabbed the kidnapper’s biceps. The man yelped, but Brian didn’t let go. Before they’d got the cursing and yelling guy more than a couple of feet along the shoulder, the oncoming car crested the hill, headlights illuminating them. It pulled over, rolled to a stop, and the front door opened without the dome light going on. A man got out.
“Damon!” Brian dropped the douchebag’s shoulders to the dirt, but Nick kept a grip on his feet.
Damon strolled over to them, a gun in one gloved hand but pointed at the dirt. “You just can’t stay out of trouble, can you, Bry?” He looked Brian up and down, then shrugged. Nick took a deep breath, feeling the tightness in his chest relax. If Brian was really hurt, Damon wouldn’t shrug that way.
Damon squatted, and Nick let go of the man’s feet so Damon could roll their captive up on his side. He tugged the ski mask up off the man’s face with his free hand, weapon inches from the man’s head. “Vladimir. I wondered who was leaving their footprints all over the damned place. Don’t they teach you to avoid mud in Russia?”
The douchebag swore at him in some language that might be Russian.
Damon laughed. “Dream on.” He straightened. “Good catch, little bro, but now it seems like you have a problem. Want me to take him off your hands?”
“And do what with him?” Charlie asked.
The Russian scrabbled as if to get up but Damon kicked him flat and Nick knelt over him.
“You got him?” Damon offered the weapon.
“Don’t need that. Brian tied him good.” Anyway, he wasn’t about to get his prints on any weapon of Damon’s.