Chapter 11

LUCKY

I toyed with the glass in my hand, wishing like hell I was back at the compound with Ford in our room and in our bed making love. Not here in a room filled with people I didn’t know or like or would likely ever see again.

I had spent the last hour ignoring the advances Ava was throwing at me and the heated glares of my parents. Ava, I handled, no worries. When she walked up to me, dressed in a ridiculous low-plunging, glitter-covered dress, I felt nothing but disgust. I mean seriously, what the fuck had I been thinking? Pretending to be straight with her! I must have taken one too many knocks from Ford in the ring to even agree to the arrangement of being married.

Thank fuck, Ford didn’t give up on me, I thought, totally relieved knowing that he was at home waiting for me.

“Did you have to come here wearing that repulsive jacket,” my father said, coming up beside me. He, of course, was dressed in a perfectly tailored three-piece suit. His condescending tone and judgemental appraisal of me instantly putting me on edge. Of course I had to admit that I deliberately put my cut over my suit jacket for a reason. My father’s reaction being that reason.

“It’s called a cut, and I earned the right to wear it. Honour, respect, loyalty. That’s what it means to me to wear this cut. Something you wouldn’t have two fucking clues about.” The words tumbled out of my mouth as thirty years of putting up with disapproval finally came to a head.

“Listen here, young man—” A commotion in the foyer of the function room took my attention from whatever shit my father was about to spew at me.

“Excuse me, but you can’t go in there.” The prim and pompous voice of my mother rang loud through the room.

“Lady, I can go anywhere I fucking want. Now, tell me where to find Lucky,” Mannix yelled back.

What the hell was Mannix doing here? Had something gone wrong at the compound? Had something happened to Shiloh? I pushed past my father, going in search of my enforcer.

“Mannix, what’s going on?”

“Brother, we gotta go. Ford was in an accident and has been taken to the hospital. Luck, he is in pretty bad shape.” Mannix was talking to me, his lips were moving, but all I heard was Ford and accident. My Ford had been hurt in some kind of accident while I was here wasting my time pretending that my family gave a shit.

“Lucky, let’s go,” Mannix shouted.

Without conscious thought, I ran with Mannix through the function centre and out to the car park where my bike was. My reason for bringing my bike to the benefit was a selfish one—purely to piss off Ava’s parents and mine. Thank God I had my bike because it would get me to Ford quicker than my ute.

My body shook with fear as I fastened my helmet, my mind whirling with scenarios of what had happened and how badly Ford was hurt.

“You all right to ride, brother?” Mannix asked me when I stumbled getting on my bike. My legs wouldn’t stop shaking as the fear took over. I was freaking out.

“Is he alive?” The question came out with a rasp, tasting bitter on my tongue. Ford had to be okay—he just had to. My throat constricted with the effort it took to keep the threatening tears at bay as I waited for Mannix to answer.

“They were working on him before the ambulance got to him. A doctor happened by and witnessed the accident, and he performed CPR. That’s all I know, brother.”

Mannix’s words hit me hard. Ford stopped breathing? Jesus Christ, I needed to get to him. Desperation to get to my man forced me to call on my training as a helicopter pilot and focus on what I had to do.

“Get me to him, Mannix,” I pleaded before starting my Harley.

The ride to the hospital was a blur, and it was just as well Mannix rode with me. He stayed close and had to get me to focus on the road several times. At one intersection, I went straight through a stop sign without even seeing it until I was just about past it. When we arrived, we found parking fairly close to the ER entrance. We secured our helmets and ran like buggery through the double doors. My only concern was getting to Ford.

I burst through into the waiting room and immediately found Booth and the rest of the club standing off in a corner. My heart sank when I saw the bleak looks on their faces. Oh, no, no, no, please, not Ford. With Mannix on my heals, I ran across the crowded room, leaping over one row of chairs on my way.

“Booth!”

“Mate, thank fuck. Come on, we can talk on the way to the surgery waiting room.” Booth’s usual composure was replaced with worry. After what the club had been through months ago, it was no surprise. The last time we had all gathered here, Memphis had been shot, and Darth was in the morgue.

No! I was not going there. Ford couldn’t die on me, not now that we were together. We hadn’t had enough time together. Forever wasn’t here yet.

I allowed Booth to lead me through two doors and a long, brightly lit corridor without saying a word. The heavy booted footsteps behind me told me all my brothers were with me with their support, which was appreciated and needed, but I needed to know one thing more than anything. A doctor stepped out from a room wearing green scrubs with blood on them. Oh, please no.

Abruptly, I stopped, my legs refusing to go any further.

“Mr Booth, I was just going to go look for you. Can we talk in private?” the doctor said, motioning to a door across the hall from the door he just came out of.

“Ford? Is Ford all right?” I blurted out, my eyes riveted to the spattered blood on his pants. I had seen blood before. Being the pilot of missions that evacuated wounded soldiers all the time, it wasn’t new to me. Hell, I was the one who flew Carson’s body back to the FOB after that last mission before most of the Souls discharged, but this was different. This was Ford.

“Doc, this is Ford’s partner, Bryce Clarke. Give it to us straight, Doc,” Booth commanded. He was in full military mode now. Thank God, he had the sense, too, because my brain function was less than zero right now.

The doctor looked at me with a surprised expression. “Oh, I see.”

My hackles rose instantly. Was he passing judgement because Ford and I were gay?

“What, just because I’m wearing a cut, I can’t be gay? You got a problem with that?” I sneered at the man. Closed-minded people who, just like my family, thought appearances were more important, accepted, pissed me off.

“Calm down, soldier.” Booth put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed hard. “Their sexual preference isn’t an issue here, Doc, and I’m sure you agree the important thing here is Ford.” Booth prompted the doctor to get on with it, and I was sure it was because I was about to go postal on his arse.

The doctor coughed and had the decency to look apologetic. “Of course, that was wrong of me. Okay then, Ford was hit by a drunk driver, and being on a bike when he was hit means his injuries are much worse than if he had been in a car.”

A fucking drunk driver hit Ford? Jesus Christ, if the guy is hurt, too, he’d better hope he hasn’t been brought here to this hospital, I thought with rage.

“Both his legs and his left foot were broken. He has a very nasty slash on his chest from what I guess was metal off either the car or his bike. A very deep puncture wound to his belly from the brake lever. When he was thrown off his bike, he hit the ground and cracked his sternum. His whole body is covered in road rash, but the worst injury is to his head. The impact of the crash sent his helmet flying off even though it was strapped on correctly, just not as tightly as it could have been, which caused it to dislodge. He sustained a heavy knock to his skull, and there is major swelling on his brain.” The doctor went on and on about cuts and abrasions and broken fingers—there were so many injuries that my head was spinning.

“We lost him once on the table but managed to get him back. It also happened at the accident site before the ambulance got there.”

I stared at the doctor in shock, not believing what he was saying.

“He… he died?” I rasped.

“Yes, twice. The impact he took to the sternum caused his heart to stop, but, luckily, an off-duty ER doctor was passing across the street at the time and saw everything. He rushed to Ford and did CPR. Unfortunately, that too caused damage. It saved his life but did complicate matters a little.”

My knees gave out, and I dropped to the tiled floor. I couldn’t hear anything except for the pounding of my heart. Ford had died, and I wasn’t here for him, and I should have been. Instead, I was toeing the line once again, doing what was expected. I broke away from my family in every way but one—I hadn’t made Ford my priority. I knew in my heart if I hadn’t gone tonight, Ford would never have gone out alone. We would’ve taken my car, diverted off somewhere deserted, fooled around in the back seat, gotten the DVDs, and he would be safe, not fighting for his life.

“This is all my fault. This would never have happened if I’d stayed home with him like he wanted me to,” I said, completely broken. Tears streamed down my face, and I didn’t give a shit if my brothers were watching me, seeing me break. Ford was my heart. He owned me, body and soul, and there was nothing but bleak darkness without him. I already knew that. I experienced it for near on five years when he left the army and I stayed. They were the loneliest, most desolate years of my life, and I never wanted to go through that turmoil and depression ever again.

“Mate, no one’s to blame except the stupid bastard who hit him. Ford understood why you went, and he was good after you left. The flock descended as they do, and he went out to get some movies for them. It was an accident that shouldn’t have happened, but still, just an accident,” Booth said, his hand on my shoulder.

On my other shoulder was Steel’s hand, and then I felt more on my back. My brothers, my true family. I heaved in a great shuddering breath, tears still wet on my cheeks. I looked up at Booth and gave him a chin lift, knowing my pres was right, that accidents happened all the time. In war, I witnessed things that were deliberate and things that were just—happenstance. Yeah, I should have been with Ford tonight, but Ford wouldn’t let me shoulder any of the blame for this, just like he never blamed me for being a fool for years for not getting my shit together. He let me do it in my own time and my own way, and he waited for me. That was how strong his love was for me. Of course, it didn’t come close to how much I loved him, not a chance.

Slowly getting back on my feet with help from my pres and VP, I lifted my head and looked straight at the doctor.

“I want to see him. He needs to see that I am there for him when he wakes up,” I told the doctor, my tone not giving him any room to argue with me.

The doctor looked around, and his nervousness with being in a circle of bikers was noticeable.

“Ah… yes, of course. Um… does anyone share the same blood type as Ford? The hospital is low on his type.”

“Three of us do. Deck, Creed, and Bryce,” Booth said, then looked at the three of us. “Head to pathology, fellas, while I call Ford’s parents. They are travelling through the Northern Territory at the moment, so it may take them some time to get here.” Booth’s commanding nature was automatically taking over, which was why all of us would follow and take orders from him, whether it be as our CO or our president. He had an easy-going and respectful quality as a leader. He was the best man I had ever had the pleasure of knowing.

“Excuse me, Mr Booth, how do you know they have the same blood type,” the idiotic doctor asked with a huff.

Would it matter if I kicked this dickhead in the nuts? I kept that question a silent one, but fuck, what kind of a question was that?

Booth spared the man a quick glance and raised his eyebrows at him. “These are my men, doctor. I led them in war, and I stood beside every single one of them on the battlefield. It is my job to know what will keep them safe and alive. Ford is AB negative, which is also the rarest blood type. I have four men with that type, and the three are standing right here wasting time listening to you bluster when they could be giving blood to help Ford.” With that, Booth turned around, and his attention was on us.

“Mannix, head back to the compound, and keep your phone on in case I need you back here, but for now, the women need someone there for help and to keep them calm. Steel, you’re with me. You three, go.” Booth jerked his head towards the elevator. 

I wasted no more time and followed Deck and Creed at a fast jog.

 

***

 

My eyes stayed glued to the monitor keeping track of Ford’s heart rhythm. For the last two hours, my arse had been planted in this uncomfortable chair, waiting for Ford to wake up from surgery.

After Deck, Creed, and I gave blood, they rushed it straight to Ford. The doctors said it was working, that his vitals had gotten better, and all there was left to do was wait. I fucking hated waiting. I’d wasted enough of my life waiting already. I thought the five years without Ford was the worst time of my life, but sitting here, looking at my man all broken, was definitely the worst. I took in his injuries—the gash on Ford’s forehead that he got when his helmet dislodged, the broken collarbone, one arm in a cast, his chest covered in bandages covering the wounds he sustained to his sternum, and finally, his legs, one of which was in the elevated position while the one with the broken foot was on the bed with rods all through it. Fuck me, how the hell he survived this is a miracle, I thought, not for the first time since I first saw him. Carefully, I reached over and laced my fingers with Ford’s uninjured hand, making sure I didn’t disrupt the IV.

“Come on, baby, wake up, please,” I begged with a raspy whisper. “I need to see those sexy eyes sparkle at me. You know I live for that, to see my man’s eyes shine just for me. I have to tell you about the new business I want to start with you. Please, wake up, please.” I hissed the last word, desperate for Ford to hear me.

The blip of the monitor and Ford’s steady breathing were the only sounds in the room. His chest slowly rose up and down, and the only thing keeping me from losing my shit was the fact he was breathing unassisted. The arsehole doctor assured us that his body was doing what was needed, healing. Just not as fast as I would like.

 

***

 

“Here ya go, Lucky duck. Get this down ya neck,” Shiloh said as she handed me a can of Solo.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, I couldn’t help but laugh at the sweet little girl. She had a way about her that was both unique and adorable. Being raised by a bunch of ex-military–turned-bikers, I suppose there was no other way for her to be.

One thing, though, she was loved and adored and cared for better than any kid I knew.

Taking the offered can, I pulled the tab and took a long swallow, my throat grateful for the cold liquid.

“Thank you, Miss Shiloh. I needed that.” I had been kicked out of Ford’s room ten minutes before when the nurse and doctor insisted I leave while they changed his dressings. Refusing to go any further than the hall right outside his door, I had dragged a chair from the waiting room up against the wall and planted myself there until they were done. Leaving the floor was not an option, not until he regained consciousness.

Shiloh gave me a tiny chin lift, then climbed up on my lap, the way she did to all my brothers, not giving me a choice in the matter. Not that I would choose differently, mind you, but still, it was amusing.

“Yeah, that’s what Darth said. He said you are lookin’ a bit wuff and wugged, but youse don’t need to worry. Fordy is just taking a big nap. He’s gots lots of ouches, ya know?”

I hoped the smile on my face wasn’t as wobbly as the feeling in the pit of my stomach. Hearing Shiloh talking about Darth as if he were really there was something I didn’t think I would ever get used to. In one way, it was unnerving—I mean, Darth was dead and apparently talking to his little charge as if he weren’t—and yet it had a comforting quality, as well. Ford had told me that Booth heard Darth assure him that Stella and Gabriel were going to be all right and come back to him the day Stella gave birth and started haemorrhaging. My pres believed, and Stella and the baby ended up fine.

If Darth were really talking to Shiloh, did that mean he knew what was going to happen? Did I believe in some kind of afterlife and guardian angels? In the service, I knew plenty of soldiers who swore black and blue that a mysterious presence appeared to them just at the right moment, telling them to move or duck right before a bullet or an IED went off, narrowly missing them. Stuff like that sent cold shivers down your spine, but the way they told it had you believing. The same went now with Shiloh. I looked at the raven-haired princess sitting on my knee, playing with the press studs on my cut. I reached out and stroked her long curly hair, and her head leaned in naturally to my touch, her trusting nature of all the members of the club was humbling.

If a four-year-old could believe that Ford was going to be all right, then so could I. If Shiloh believed that Darth was looking after the members of the club and their families, then so could I.

“Yeah, Fordy has lots of ouches, baby girl,” I said and pressed a kiss to her temple. “You tell Darth to look after him and make sure he wakes up for me, okay? I miss him.”

Shiloh stopped playing with my cut. Her hands reached out and palmed my face, holding me still, and her sweet face lit up with a cheeky smile.

“He knows, Lucky man, said it won’t be long now,” Shiloh told me with a knowing grin that spooked and soothed me all at the same time.

“Gots to go now, dude,” Shiloh suddenly announced and jumped off my lap but not before laying a wet kiss on my cheek. “Gots shit to do,” she sang as she toddled off down the hall to where the rest of the club was camped out.

After watching Shiloh make it safely to the waiting room, I tiredly pushed myself up to my feet, and the door to Ford’s room opened as I did.

“You can go back in now, sir,” the nurse informed me, her smile genuine. “There is a definite improvement in his vitals and, thankfully, no infection. Looks like he got that blood at the right time.” She winked at me as the doctor came out behind her, his head jerking in the direction of the room behind him.

“Someone is asking for you, son.”

As soon as the words were out of the doctor’s mouth, I was moving the five steps to the door where my man was awake and alive.

Thank you, Darth mate, thank you.