Chapter Twenty-Two

Moon

“Mom, I feel weird.” Beau’s voice came out shaky but that wasn’t what alarmed me. It was that low whistling wheeze that left me terrified.

“Weird how, honey? Talk slowly and tell me what you’re feeling.” His voice quivered with fear, the same fear that snaked its way down my spine as soon as his breaths started coming in tight and unusually constricted, like his chest was in a vise. We were on our way to see Dr. Mankowski for the first stem cell treatment and I had no idea where the closest hospital was, so I stomped on the gas to get to the specialist’s office as soon as possible.

“It hurts, Mom. I can’t breathe.”

“Okay, baby, hang on. Okay?” With one hand on the wheel, my free hand searched my purse for the portable nebulizer, sending a wish into the universe that it was fully charged.

“Got it! Here you go, honey. Just breathe slowly, Beau, like we practiced.”

I breathed in and out slowly until Beau’s breathing matched mine.

His little hands took the nebulizer and double-checked all the settings. I checked it every morning after taking it off the charger and each night when I set it to charge but the routine was for him to make sure everything worked. When Beau was satisfied the settings were correct and that his medicine was inserted properly, he inserted the nebulizer into his mouth. After several deep inhales, the wheezing eased but it didn’t stop.

“We’re just two exits away from Dr. Mankowski’s office, Beau. Just stay calm.” The words were more for my benefit than Beau’s, because as calm as I was on the outside, I felt like a rabid squirrel on the inside.

Beau’s eyes were wide with the effort to breathe normally.

I may have broken a few traffic laws during the last stretch of road. By the time I turned into the medical center parking lot, Beau’s breathing had turned erratic and wheezy again.

“Mom,” he gasped, and I slammed on the brakes right in the middle of a row of parking spots, stepped out with my bag and ran around to the backseat, pulling Beau out and running inside the office building with him in my arms.

“Mom,” he wheezed again and I nearly fell to my knees.

“It’s okay, honey. Just breathe in and out slowly and let me take care of the rest.”

I ran as fast as I could through the automatic glass doors, glaring at the nice receptionist for no other reason than I needed her to take me seriously. “I need to see Dr. Mankowski now!”

She smiled that kind but blank look commonly found with receptionists around the world and shook her head. “I’m sorry Miss but this isn’t a hospital.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I have an appointment today and my son had an asthma attack on our way here so get the doctor now or I will skin you alive with my bare hands. Go!”

“I’m sorry ma’am, but—”

“Go! Now!” I wouldn’t be so rude normally but this woman was really getting under my skin.

Dr. Mankowski stepped out of a door with a frown marring his boyishly handsome face. He capped off the Steven Martin look with distressed denim under his white doctor’s coat. “What’s all the commotion?”

“Your receptionist was just telling me that you don’t treat emergencies here and that I should find a hospital while my little boy can’t breathe.”

As expected, the doctor frowned at the perky brunette as he strode over to me. He leaned over to Beau, who was half out of it from struggling to breathe.

“What seems to the problem, Beau?” he said in his calm, doctor voice.

Beau raised his head, sleepy blue eyes barely open. “Can’t breathe, Dr. Mank.”

He grinned and relieved me of my son’s weight. “Let’s take a look and see if there’s something we can do.” I followed behind him on wooden legs, wondering if this would ever end. Would there ever come a time when I wouldn’t have to worry if the next breath would be his last?

I stood with my head resting on the door while the doctor listened to his lungs. “Is there more I can do to stop these attacks?”

“You’re doing everything you can, Ms. Vanderbilt. There is no magic treatment when it comes to asthma. Today the problem is this,” he told me, holding the nebulizer up between two fingers.

“These things are great until they aren’t. They may as well be disposable because if the batteries aren’t perfectly charged, it won’t dispense medications evenly.”

A rush of fury raced through me. “So today’s attack was the fault of the stupid treatment?”

He grinned a smile that lit up his whole face, shaving at least a decade off his face. “Exactly.”

“How can that be? That nebulizer is supposed to be state of the art. Why even bother? Can’t they make these things infallible?”

Dr. Mankowski removed a prescription pad from the pocket of his lab coat and scribbled on it. “I’ll give you a prescription for another, top of the line portable nebulizer just in case, but I’m hoping you won’t need it soon.”

“And this one isn’t going to fail? Is it any better?” I was beyond frustrated. I took the prescription from the doctor and stuffed it in my bag. “So, does that mean we’re still doing the stem cell treatment today—or not?”

“Yes, we are. As long as you don’t mind waiting so we can monitor Beau for a while.”

I shook my head because I would wait as long as I had to if it meant Beau would get better. “Of course.”

The doctor left us in the waiting room and I couldn’t help but think about all the things I’d done to protect Beau from the ravages of asthma. We both ate a whole food, plant-based diet to limit his exposure to allergens, made sure he did deep breathing exercises to strengthen his lungs and airways. I even kept plants in the house to provide clean oxygen. So far none of it had worked to cure him of this disease, and I felt like a failure.

It was bad enough that failure was a common occurrence for all single parents, but to feel like I’d contributed to his pain somehow was worse and I fell into a well of self-pity. Even when they wheeled him into a sterile room for the treatment an hour later, I was still beating myself up. Not just over Beau, either.

When it came to Cross, I was afraid I was falling back into old habits. Beau had been conceived during a wild and wicked weekend spent with the wrong kind of man. I decided then to get over my obsession with bad boys, which effectively meant I’d given up on men.

Until now.

Until I decided to fall for a man who was all wrong for me in so many ways, starting with the fact that he was still in love with his wife. His dead wife. Of course, he hadn’t told me so in so many words. But he didn’t have to.

Overhearing Cross tell Beau about his lost family answered so many questions for me. His retreat whenever I tried to pry any information from him; his disappearance after our super-heated sexy sessions in bed. That was all he wanted from me. And I’d been so lonely, I willingly fell into his arms whenever he showed up on my doorstep. It was a lose-lose situation for me, which meant it was time to get my head on straight and stop thinking like a silly little girl.

The same thing Daddy had always accused me of being.

***

By the time we left Dr. Mankowski’s office, the sun had long ago set and the sky was clear yet dark save for the large face of the moon splashing light on the road. Beau was asleep in the back seat, not at all restricted by the seatbelt I’d fastened him into.

The doctor claimed that I would start seeing improvements in Beau’s breathing soon and I was hopeful. Not expectant but hopeful, anyway. We would come back in six weeks just to do a checkup and—fingers crossed—see evidence that the treatments were working.

Soft strains of classic rock played on the radio and I tried to hum quietly but inside the quiet car it felt a lot louder than a hum. Still, the sounds of Creedence Clearwater Revival helped calm my nerves.

At least until the single light of motorcycle light moved behind me and stayed there for more than ten miles. Initially I thought, okay I hoped it was Cross because he was so eager to see and kiss me again. Then I told myself to stop fantasizing that life was like a romance novel. I kept driving, but still the bike stayed behind me, never allowing more than one car between us. Then the hair on my arms and the back of my neck stood up, a clear sign that something was wrong. I’d learned never to ignore those feelings and signs a long time ago, so I decided to test my theory.

I slowed down and instead of going around me like any normal driver would, he slowed too. When I switched lanes, the biker did too and then followed me back into the center lane. That was the only confirmation I needed so I did the only thing I could, punched the gas like my little Subaru had the same zip as a gas-guzzling Lamborghini. My car wasn’t pretty, but it was sporty and reliable, which meant I had a good chance of getting away from the creep following me.

At least that was what I kept telling myself as I pressed down as hard as I could on the gas, trying like hell to put some distance between my car and the biker. But I couldn’t go home with some crazed biker on my trail, which meant my shop was off limits as well. Which wasn’t helpful at all since I couldn’t drive around all night. I needed reinforcements so I picked up my phone. “Hey, Jana, I need your help.”

“Hey, Moon, hang on a second.” Music played in the background along with the sounds of conversation and I wondered if I was interrupting a party. “Sorry about that. What can I help with?”

“Don’t freak out but there’s a biker following me, has been since I left the doctor’s office and I don’t know where to go.”

“Can you just pull over somewhere that’s busy and lit up?”

I shook my head and glanced in the mirror again just to make sure the biker was still following us.

“Hello, Moon? Answer me!”

“Sorry. No, there’s nowhere like that until we’re closer to home. Plus Beau is sleeping after another attack.”

“Oh no,” Jana moaned. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is he doing okay?”

“Mostly. We just left the doctor. Let’s just hope this treatment works. Any ideas on how to shake this guy?”

“Come to the clubhouse. Cross has been out for hours looking for you, anyway.”

Why would Cross be looking for me? We didn’t have plans to meet up today and he had far more important things on his mind. “No thanks, I don’t want to impose. I’ll go to the police station, which should have been my first thought.” Except I was a naturally suspicious person and so far Mayhem’s finest left much to be desired.

“Moon, don’t. Please. Just trust me and come here to the clubhouse. Please?”

There was a worry in her voice I couldn’t understand but I respected it enough to at least consider it. “I’ll let you know, Jana. Right now I need to think. Later.”

Tossing the phone onto the passenger seat, I slowed to take the exit, groaning when a line of traffic ended not fifty feet after the exit ramp began.

Gridlock was the last thing I needed with an unknown biker behind me, but I kept my eye on him like there was anything I could do if he decided to come after me here in traffic. Still, I was prepared. Ready for a fight when I saw him split the lane, I rolled down the window and waited.

“What?” I growled when he cruised up to me. “What is it that you want that you followed me all this way?”

He scowled and flipped up his motorcycle mask revealing big blue eyes. Make that angry blue eyes.

“You can tell your fucking friend, White Boy—”

“That dirtbag is no friend of mine and if that’s why you’ve been following me, you’re wasting your time!” Hitting the button to slide the window closed, the biker’s hand reached out to stop the window’s progress.

“Go away.”

“I saw him in your shop.”

How was this my life right now? “Then I guess you didn’t see long enough for the cops to haul him away for threatening me, after his biker buddy shot up my store!”

His eyes widened at my outburst. “Shit! Are you serious right now, because if you’re lying to me lady, I swear I will make you fucking regret it.”

“Believe me when I tell you that lying to another biker isn’t on my schedule today. Craig is not a friend of mine, I can assure you of that, so if that’s why you’re following me, stop.”

“I wish I could, lady, but I need answers. About my sister.”

I felt bad for him, or more likely his sister, but it really wasn’t my concern. Was it? “I don’t have any answers and I don’t know your sister.”

“Why did Roadkill MC shoot up your store?”

“Isn’t that the million-dollar question? Probably because a friend of mine is married to someone in another…uhm…club.” I hoped I sounded more confident than the last two words because my confidence was waning.

Recognition flashed in his eyes and I hoped this man didn’t represent another threat to Cross and the club. Then my father’s words came back to me, something that hadn’t happened in more than a decade.

The enemy of my enemy is my friend.