CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Sofia knew she was being silly, but she needed to see Hector’s body. When she used the bathroom outside the playroom’s door, she’d overheard Cutter say he was dead. Everything became a blur with the need to know it wasn’t some cruel joke by the Brothers of Mayhem. She needed to hear it from Toro’s people. Toro’s? When had she ever thought of her cousin by that stupid nickname? Or thought of their people as his?

Yet, she also didn’t feel like the Brothers were her people. Though she did like Cherry, Twofer, Chicken, and even intimidating Cutter. They had been kind to her. Of course, she loved Wolf. Never in her life had she ever imagined being in love with a biker. But if she was truthful with herself, she’d loved him the moment he asked her about the turkey.

In record time, she reached the small Brook Hill Memorial Hospital. It was the closest one to Hector’s home. He rarely left the area, and she guessed they would bring him there.

She parked and ran inside, barely noticing anything around her. Without hesitation she walked to the information desk.

“Hector Cruz. I heard they brought his body here. I—I want to see if it is true.” Did she sound as crazy and stupid as she felt? She’d never had to identify a body.

The woman was kind and asked her a few questions, insuring Sofia was a family member. Before Sofia knew it, two police officers walked up and introduced themselves and asked her questions. She insisted on seeing Hector’s body. They acted all concerned, but she could tell they were holding her off. Why? It wasn’t like she wanted to do anything to his body. She told them she wanted to confirm that it was truly him.

Finally, another man strode over and introduced himself as a detective and told her she could view her cousin’s body. That they would appreciate the confirmation.

It was about time. Taking a deep breath, she calmed down.

Her whole body ached from being held tight in an attempt not to shake and trying to hold her temper. The desire to stomp her feet and demand they get out of her way, that she would find him without their help, eased as she followed the detective into a staff elevator.

She felt like she was walking and talking in a fog. Numb to everything that people said, but tears continued.

The next thirty minutes were the worst in her life. Partly, it felt as if it was staged or what a person would see on a crime show. Only the room wasn’t huge and no drawers for bodies lined the walls. She guessed they had taken her to a small viewing room, allowing her some privacy. Hector looked pale, but as if he were asleep. A sheet with some kind of padding over his chest hid the wound from her. Her fingers curled, nails biting into the palms of her hands. Fighting the desire to touch his face so he would awaken, she silently begged him to open his eyes and sit up, to tell her it was all a horrible joke. So unreal. A nightmare she wanted to end.

Wolf. She needed Wolf. His arms around her.

She loved him as much as he loved her. He would hold her to his chest and console her. A comforting warmth flowed through her. She still had the man who had shown her over and over again what true love was like.

By the time she exited, her tears had slowed to an occasional trickle. The soft glow above the trees signaled it was morning. Then again, it could be the lights from the center of town over the rise. She stepped out and headed toward the Jeep. Instantly, she recognized a couple of sedans belonging to Thirty-Second members blocking her parking space, but she couldn’t remember who. Her brain told her body to run, but she was so exhausted, she didn’t react in time.

Hands reached out and grabbed her, yanking her back against a body that smelled of grease and dope.

“About fucking time you showed up, bitch.”

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Wolf mother-fucking-hated driving a cage. He felt like he was going thirty miles an hour in a metal box and suffocating at the same time. With the temp below freezing, he wouldn’t do Sofia any good if he showed up with his ass frozen to his Harley. So he drove like a bat from hell in his old ’98 Silverado. Big Red was a decent truck and rarely gave him trouble, but sucked gas by the gallons and rattled like a bag of pennies down the road.

He’d checked the house she had lived in with Ramon. The place looked deserted. Trick’s Jeep was nowhere in sight. Then he’d slowly driven by Toro’s place. Thirty-Second’s sentry, bundled in thick arctic wear, stood near their sedans, guarding their dead boss’s home. Still no sign of Sofia.

As he expected—she knew he was calling to talk her into returning to Trick’s— all his calls to her mobile phone went straight to voicemail.

Hell, he drove by the grocery store they had met at what felt like a century ago. Had he ever not known her? His chest ached. Damn, his whole body hurt. His blood pressure was probably sky high.

With Toro’s death, who knew what would happen next? The word they received was that several of his people were trying to take over the gang, and Ramon was nowhere to be found. Had they already killed him in retaliation? The latest rumor coming down the pipeline was that the Mayhem Brothers had something to do with Toro’s death. That was insane. The Brothers knew to stay out of other people’s bullshit.

Sitting in the middle of the store’s parking lot, he wondered where to go to next? His phone buzzed in his pocket.

“Where are you?” Cutter’s tone brought a cramp to Wolf’s gut. He closed his eyes for a second, throwing a prayer to Sofia’s God that she was safe.

“In front of the 24-Hour Food Market in Brook Hill. Why?” He rubbed his forehead. He couldn’t take anything more that night.

“Get your ass over to Brook Hill Memorial.”

All of the blood left his face. He swallowed deep, hoping not to pass out.

“What happened?” His voice came out froggy.

“As far as we know she’s okay. Chicken spotted the Jeep over there. It has Trick’s sticker on it. She’s probably in the hospital and there are uniforms inside.”

Trick had a different inane sticker on each of his automobiles. That sticker read, It’s a Jeep. If I Wanted A Hummer I’d Call Your Sister. That was his uncle’s sense of humor.

Relief flowed through him, but his hands shook like he’d been on a three-day drinking binge. “I’m five minutes away. If you can spare them, keep the prospects looking for Ramon.”

“No worries, Brother. We want the bastard.”

“Don’t let Easy kill him. We need answers from the asshole.” He shifted his truck into gear and headed toward the hospital.

What was she doing over there? Toro was dead. There was nothing that could be done.

No sooner than he turned onto the deserted street running alongside the hospital’s entrance, he saw the Jeep under a security light. Chicken walked out from the shadows near several crepe myrtles and waited.

Wolf slowed down and pressed the button to the passenger side window and waited for the young prospect to talk.

“She’s still inside.” The Adam’s apple in his scrawny neck bobbed up and down. “I don’t know why she’d want to see a dead body.” Chicken grimaced. His light gray eyes grew big with disgust. He probably had never seen a dead person.

“Who said that she did?” Wolf asked.

“I went inside and overheard her arguing with a couple cops.”

“Here. Come around.” He nodded to his door. “Park my truck. Wait for me out here.” He shifted it into park and stepped out. As soon as the prospect jumped in, Wolf strode over to the doors and entered the lobby.

Several people stood around talking, but Sofia was nowhere in sight. No uniforms. Damn it. The woman didn’t know how to stay put.

He headed toward a desk and passed a small knot of people. At that moment, he heard a man in a white coat say something about a crazy lady accosting cops.

“She insisted on seeing her cousin’s body. I was never so happy to see the police walk in. They took her to the morgue. The coroner is tied up and won’t be by to pick up the body until late in the morning.”

Without wasting any more time, he went looking for a staff elevator. No need to worry about standing out. He wasn’t wearing his colors. Club rules were that no one wore their cut in a cage. So with his jeans and tee shirt, he could pass for being an orderly coming into work. An orderly with a scruffy beard and hair hanging over his ears. Shit. Maybe no one would stop him. They better not.

Wolf ambled down a hallway. He hoped to appear as if he knew where he was going. Then his phone buzzed. He cursed under his breath, scrambling for the phone in his pants pocket. Chicken’s text caused Wolf’s heart to stop. She’d been riding in another elevator up when he was going down.

No longer worrying about who noticed him, he ran down the hallway, back to the elevators.

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Sofia dug her nails into Jorge’s arm.

“Let me go,” she said, her voice filled with venom. The man had always hated her. She never understood why. Her only guess was that she didn’t kowtow to his mega ego. He was handsome with flashing black eyes, beautiful white teeth, and thick hair past his shoulders. Women were crazy for him.

She wasn’t.

“You always thought you were better than everyone, what with your cousin being the jefe. He’s gone. So now, you’re nothing. You’re only a filthy biker’s whore.” He lifted her by one arm, squeezing hard. Two other Thirty-Second men stood off to the side, shouting lewd encouragement.

“I’m not a whore. He’s more of a man than you could ever dream of being.”

His dark eyes narrowed as he grabbed her other arm and pulled her up to his face.

“Word on the street is that the Brothers of Mayhem cut a deal with Ramon. If he took out Toro, the Brothers would come back to Brook Hill and help him take over the Thirty-Second.”

“You’re lying. They’re happy where they’re at.” She didn’t know that for sure, but she refused to believe Wolf or any of his friends would set up her cousin to die. They had fought, but Wolf had sworn the fighting had ended with the raid on Hector’s home. That it was the last retaliation.

“I don’t lie. Not like those sweet lying lips of yours.” Jorge stared at her mouth. “Making us believe you’re part of us while fucking a mother-fucking biker.”

She struggled as he leaned down to kiss her. That left only one thing to do. She screamed.

He slapped her. Instead of folding, she rounded on Jorge and slapped him back. Cursing and kicking at his legs, she refused to be beaten ever again. Any thought of surrendering no longer lingered in her thoughts. Otherwise, her beaten, lifeless body would be found on the side of the road.

He clasped her shoulders and shook her until she hung limply.

“You stupid bitch. It was your man who decided the best way to take Toro. I was told he’d wanted to get back at him for the beating he took before Christmas.”

When she merely stared at him in shock, he jerked her tight against him. Her chest landed against his, knocking out her breath as his mouth covered hers.

A shout from the hospital entrance brought a hesitation to Jorge’s assault, giving Sofia the necessary seconds to bring her knee up. He groaned and bent double. His hands spasmed and she wrenched her arms away. She stepped backwards and her back bumped against someone.

“I’m going to break every bone in your body,” Wolf said with a promise of bloodshed and death in every word.

Relief flowed through her. She didn’t want anyone else dead, but he would protect her.

With a firm but tender grip, he pulled her behind him and then gently shoved her toward Twofer and Chicken. They stepped in front of her. She looked around. Several of the Brothers stood in a half circle ready to protect her and Wolf. They glared at Jorge and the Thirty-Second men. Jorge’s companions took a step back, turned and ran, leaving him all alone.

Cutter stepped up beside Wolf.

“No one touches a Brother’s old lady without receiving an ass kicking,” the Mayhem Brothers’ VP said in a cool, lethal tone.

Before she even thought to stop the craziness, Wolf swung at Jorge with an upper cut. The man’s chin shot up, bringing him to his toes. Cutter took advantage and landed a hit to his stomach. Before Jorge crumpled to the ground, another Mayhem Brother landed a fist into his ribcage. For the next couple of minutes, there was a free for all. The numbness from all that happened and the pure hatred Jorge had shown froze her in place. Inside she knew she should scream for them to stop, but she couldn’t make her mouth open. She knew if Wolf hadn’t stepped up when he did, she’d be riding in the back of a sedan to who knew where. Certainly not to a good place.

As they heard Brook Hill’s finest’s sirens echoing nearby and coming their way, Jorge’s buddies drove up, jumped out, and grabbed him by the arms, slinging each one over a shoulder, and hauled him away. They tossed the limp man into a backseat. Smoke billowed from the sedan’s tires as they drove off.

Wolf’s arms were around her again, and he nearly carried her to a red truck. They were headed out of the parking lot when the police pulled in.

Had Jorge told the truth? Part of her brain warned that the Brothers of Mayhem had always hated the Thirty-Second and all their friends and family. She wasn’t so special to change years of hostility.

She needed time to think about it. Was the constant back and forth going to be her whole life?