I run. I run in search of Jasmine, my pace frantic. I have to find her, I have to find my baby. They’re everything to me, without them I’m nothing.
Luisa’s been shot. Hawke’s with her, and an ambulance has been called. Lu said Jasmine’s in pain, saying it’s the baby. Oh God, please don’t let it be the baby. I run straight for the back of the bar to the kitchen, and stop in my tracks when I find Jasmine lying on the floor, her eyes shut, cradling her stomach. Blood stains her jean shorts, and she’s pale, so fucking pale. I quickly drop to my knees and cradle her head, resting it on my lap. Fear like I’ve never felt before runs through me, to the point I’m shaking. Please God, don’t take her away from me, not now—not after I’ve finally got her. Please don’t do this to me. I may deserve it, but she doesn’t, she’s innocent in all this. If anyone should be punished, it should be me. Please God, give me this.
I kiss her damp forehead and whisper, “Baby? Baby? Please, baby, open your eyes for me. Please, baby, just give me this. Fuck, Baby, you’re bleeding.” I cry then. I cry like a fucking baby as I cradle her head in my hands and kiss her lips gently, but she doesn’t move. “I love you, don’t you dare fucking leave me, baby. I won’t let you. You hear me?” I growl. “You’re not leaving me, not now that I’ve found you. I-I can’t l-live without you,” I stutter out, my lips quivering, tears rolling freely down my face and landing on her cheek. I wipe them away with my thumb, and run it around her cheek in circles. Roughly wiping away more tears, I try to focus on what I need to do: be strong, get her to the hospital.
Sniffling, I press two fingers to her pulse, and relief washes over me when I feel movement. “You’re going to be all right, you got me? You’re going to be fine, baby,” I promise her, knowing I’m saying the words more to convince myself than her.
Gently, I place one arm under her knees, my other behind her neck. Lifting her into my arms I stand, and slowly walk out the room. Her eyes finally flutter open, and I smile down at her. “There you are, baby. I promise you, you’re going to be fine.” She doesn’t answer but tries to smile, and I can see she’s clearly in pain.
The siren of an ambulance sounds, and I thank God that they made it here just in time. But what I see when I make it outside has me swallowing hard, trying to get rid of the lump in my throat. Luisa is bleeding out as Hawke begs her to stay with him. How can this be happening to us? How? One minute I’m laughing with my boys, and the next minute gunshots are erupting inside the clubhouse. I thought we were prepared, had all bases covered. We were on lockdown, for God’s sake. But we never anticipated the extent of Santana’s men. It was like a fucking army. But we got them, and now Santana and his men are dead. But at what cost? A cost that may mean my baby loses its life.
I have no more time to think. Two medics come running over with a stretcher, and try to take Jasmine out of my arms. I narrow my eyes at them and growl. “Get your fucking hands off her. I’ll put her on the stretcher.”
One of the medic shows a little sympathy and lowers his voice. “Sir, if you don’t let us take care of her, she will lose this baby.”
I feel like I’ve been punched straight in the gut, winded with his words, and then I hear it—the voice of an angel. My angel. “Please, baby,” Jasmine says weakly, “let them take me.” My eyes blur with new tears and I nod, eyeing the medic, giving him approval to take her. I hand her over gently, wiping my tears on my shoulder. Jasmine moves into a fetal position, gripping her stomach. I hold onto the stretcher as they push her rapidly over to the ambulance.
Just as they’re placing Jasmine at the back, ready to be loaded in, I hear the wheels of another stretcher running over the gravel. Luisa is secured on it, a blanket covering her body. Fuck, this is all my fault. I should have just given Santana what he wanted, because now both our women are suffering as a consequence of my decision.
I go to step up into the ambulance, but I’m stopped. “Just give us a second, sir.”
I step back and let them do what they need to. I bury my face into my hands, trying to ease the worry, but it’s no use.
“Brother.” I snap my head up, meeting Hawke’s gaze. He‘s wearing a slight smile. How the fuck can he be smiling at a time like this?
“She’ll be fine, they both will,” he states calmly, and those are the words I needed to hear. If Hawke can say that after Luisa got shot, then I’ve got hope too. Our women are strong, they will get through this.
“Sir, you can come in now.”
I look at the medics, then notice the ones in Luisa’s ambulance are saying the same to Hawke. We lift our chins at one another, then both jump into the back of the ambulances and take off toward St. John’s Hospital.
The van moves quickly through the busy streets, siren blaring, and it’s not long till we’re at the hospital, the back of the van opening as soon as we pull up. I jump down out of the vehicle, and move out the way as the medics get Jasmine out. Hawke strides up to me, and we both follow the medics as they fly through the emergency doors. Nurses rush forward and are given a full brief by the medics as they take over. Hawke and I begin to follow them, but once they reach the surgical ward we’re both stopped, and asked to stay back. Hawke tries to ignore them, and rushes to be by Luisa’s side, but he’s stopped when one nurse looks pointedly at him. “Sorry, you’re going to have to stay here, you can’t go into the operating theater.”
“Like fuck I can’t. I’m not leaving her!” Hawke yells.
“Hawke.” I place my hand on his shoulder and he looks at me like he’s forgotten I was even there, his eyes bloodshot, looking like death. “Let them work, brother. They’ll look after her, I promise,” I say, trying to calm him down. He inhales deeply and nods at the nurses, giving them authority to leave, but not before he leans down and kisses Luisa’s pale lips.
“I’ll be waiting right here for you. See you soon,” Hawke whispers to her, and stands back, allowing them to rush through the doors. He falls back against the wall, looking at a complete loss. Sinking to the floor, he rests his arms on his knees, dipping his head between them, and begins to cry.
I follow suit and slide down the wall, resting my arms on my knees. I feel at a loss. How can I comfort Hawke when I feel the same? Running my hands through my hair, I try to be positive. “She’s gonna be fine, brother, we need to be strong,” I state, my voice shaky.
He wipes away his tears, and finally looks over at me. “Fuck, man, we fucked up. We didn’t protect them.”
Guilt hits me hard and I sigh, then run my hands down my face. “I know, brother. Believe me, I feel fucking guilty as shit. I could lose my baby because I wasn’t on top of my game. I should have had more security on—”
“Was anyone shot?” Hawke interrupts.
“Just Gunner. Fucker thinks he’s gonna pick up more chicks now with a bullet wound,” I say, remembering how he was explaining to Tracker how chicks dig scars.
That has him smiling, but then he takes a deep breath and turns serious on me. “How’s Jasmine, any news? Did they mention anything about the baby?”
The mention of my baby has that lump appearing again in my throat. “Nope,” I say, rotating my wedding ring around my finger, thinking back to my wedding day and how beautiful and carefree Jasmine looked. “If she loses this baby, man, I will never forgive myself,” I admit, my eyes burning with unshed tears.
‘I feel ya, brother.”
Hailey, Jasmine and Luisa’s friend, turns up at the hospital, asking the nurse at the nearby station what happened.
Hawke’s first to stand and walk to her, and explains everything. For now I need to take care of something, and that’s calling Jasmine’s parents.
Standing, I walk around the corner of the waiting area, dreading this conversation with her folks. Her old man picks up on the first ring. “Hey there, son, how’s the honeymoon going?”
I swallow hard, and my voice sounds husky as I try to explain. “Sir, you need to get down here, something’s happened to Jasmine.”
Silence. Complete silence. Did he not hear me?
“Sir, you there?” I ask, wondering if the phone disconnected.
“I’m here,” he says quietly, but then emotion runs through his voice. “What’s happened to my baby girl?”
“Jackson, what’s going on, what’s happened?” I hear Jasmine’s mom in the background.
“Sir, we’re at St. John’s Hospital. She’s fine, but she’s had a fall,” I explain, half telling the truth. Now is not the time to explain we had a war with a drug lord happen at my clubhouse.
“Oh my God, the baby, how’s the baby doin’?”
“They haven’t told me much. All I know is she’s in surgery, and I know she’ll want you guys here.”
“Yes, you’re right,” Jackson answers. “We’ll catch the next flight, you just tell my baby that we’re on our way.”
“I will, sir. Just one more thing.”
“What’s that, son?”
“Luisa has been shot. I can’t explain it all to you now, but can you please let her folks know, they may want to hurry and get down here too.”
“She’s been shot?” he yells. “Son, what the hell is going on down there?”
I sigh, and lean against the hospital wall, banging my head against it a couple of times.
“I’ll explain when you get down here, now’s not the time.”
“Okay, son, I’ll call them. We’ll see you as soon as we can get there.”
“Right, thank you.”
I hang up and bend over, pulling at my hair. How the fuck am I going to explain this?
Jasmine.
Jasmine and the baby are the only thing that matter right now.