Chapter Twelve
Chuey
Chuey stood back and admired his handiwork. The freshly painted wall was the exact right color, and Chuey had even remembered to put the primer on underneath the paint.
A low chime sounded behind him, letting him know that there was someone at the door. Since Marcos's attack the month before, Ryder had gone into high gear when it came to all things protection. The dispensary was under round the clock surveillance with two hybrids on-site always. The bar had been cleaned and rebuilt again, but there wasn't nearly as much business. In the time that it took them to get back on their feet, Marcos and his crew had opened their own bar in Noel.
Marcos. Chuey couldn't think the man's name without getting angry. He caused his mate so much stress. They still weren't sure what Marcos had that had done as much damage to Zeke as they had. They'd also found similar claw marks in some of the walls, like they'd gotten a shifter in their ranks. From the looks of the claws, a tiger or a lion shifter at that.
"Who's there?" Chuey asked into the intercom even though he could clearly see it was Ryder. Once, he had opened the door without going through the protocol, and Ryder had been so mad, he nearly didn't give Chuey his nightly ice cream. Chuey had managed to beg it out of him though. "I could have been kidnapped and used as a ruse!" he'd exclaimed when Chuey had opened the door without using the magic word.
"It's Ryder, pineapple."
Chuey smirked. He'd been allowed to choose the keyword and he couldn't hear the word pineapple without smiling. He opened the door, and Ryder enveloped him in a warm hug. Then he pulled back and narrowed his eyes.
"You painted."
"I did. Come see!" Chuey dragged him into the nursery. Technically, it was the closet, but they didn't have any other rooms to choose from. It was a big closet. And Chuey hadn't even had a nursery when he was growing up. Most of the time, he didn't have a house, so this kid was already spoiled.
"It's coming together," Ryder said, hugging Chuey from behind. "Hopefully, by the time this kid comes, all this bullshit will be figured out." Ryder cursed again and then put his palms flat on Chuey's tummy. "Sorry, little baby," he said.
"His grandfather is Julian, I think he will hear much worse in his time," Chuey said, operating under the belief that at some point, his padre would accept him and his lifestyle. Thinking anything else was just too depressing. Besides, there were positive signs that day was coming. Garth had been by with two more boxes and the items hadn't been hand-me-downs either, but brand-new baby things all from the same brand that Logan used with Duncan.
"Julian is going to have to learn not to curse around our baby," Ryder replied. "Though I do like the part where you call him a grandfather. Do it again," he said with a devilish smile.
"No, now you're just being mean." Chuey pushed back with his bottom and launched away from Ryder's body. "Did you find anything out today?"
A dark cloud seemed to form over Ryder's head. "Nothing good. Near as we can tell, they used some sort of glove. Like a Freddy Krueger sort of thing. We don't know if they're all equipped with them or just one."
"What about Cassius?"
"Haven't heard anything from him. I guess kicking him out had been the right decision."
Chuey couldn't agree. From what he had seen of Cassius, he believed him to be genuine. But he was stuck in a hard place, guilty until proven innocent. "I don't know..." he said.
"Why is my mate and boy standing in front of me defending a hybrid who is not me?" Ryder asked, adopting a long-suffering tone. "Have I no trust? No confidence?"
"Nope," Chuey replied, but he sauntered toward Ryder as he did, resting his head against his chest. "None at all."
"You really want those spankings, don't you?"
Chuey wiggled against him, but his stomach growled loudly.
"Oh no, no sex until—" Ryder's phone rang. "What the hell, I was just there!" Ryder let out another stream of expletives that made Chuey leave the room so that Ryder wouldn't feel too badly about their baby hearing them later.
He was listening, though, so when Thorne said, "There's a fire outside the dispensary," Chuey heard it and was ready to go.
"Maybe you should stay," Ryder said with the same indecision he had whenever his desires clashed with Chuey's. "But then, when would you get dinner?" Ryder zipped up Chuey's jacket. It was made from lightweight material since it was already warm outside. But the sun would set soon, and it would only get colder. "I'm going to have to buy a car soon. I can't keep strapping you to the back of my bike. Pretty soon you won't be able to reach your arms around me." Ryder skipped away as Chuey tried to smack him.
They got on his bike and started the familiar route from his cabin down to the dispensary. Chuey had only ever been outside, but it was his understanding that business was booming. And they'd only been open a few days. It was the perfect time for Marcos to disrupt everything.
Ryder took the highway corner slower than he used to, and that was when Chuey saw them. Coming out of the forest on either side were men on their bikes. Chuey shouted, and Ryder looked back before accelerating forward. They were nearly there; if they could just go a bit longer—
Something whizzed by his head, and Chuey realized in the next second that it was a bullet. An old man with a long salt-and-pepper beard and a skull cap helmet pulled up very close to them.
"It's Marcos," Ryder said, and he swerved, dodging one of the bikers that had come up on the other side.
They were surrounded on all sides but forward. "It's a trap!" Chuey said, though Ryder likely didn't need him to. He couldn't do much at that moment about it though. They were already rolling over the road at a speed that would shred them should they crash.
"Grab my phone," Ryder yelled back to him. "Tell them to—"
The bike swerved violently to the left as they were pushed from the right side. "You fucker, I am going to kill you!" Ryder yelled out.
Chuey saw Marcos come up behind them a split second before Ryder did. They both saw his gun though, leveled directly at their heads. Chuey closed his eyes and held on. When he opened them back up, another biker had joined them. Cassius was there, and he had a bat.
"Fucking traitor!" Ryder screamed at him.
"No, I'm not!" Cassius yelled back. "Turn left!" he said before bringing the bat down on Marcos's hand. It was a testament to Marcos's driving ability that he didn't crash. He did drop the gun though. He popped his back tire sharply to the right, slamming into Cassius hard enough to force him into a tailspin that ended with him and his bike in the ditch.
They were almost to the dispensary though. They just had to get there and—
Crack.
The bike shuttered beneath them and then it was all chaos. Chuey felt himself fling through the air, though when he landed, it wasn't against the hard ground, but against a slightly less hard body. He heard Ryder's bones crack under the pressure of the fall and the man cried out but kept his arms around Chuey. Somehow, he'd caught him in the crash and cushioned him so that Ryder would get the brunt of it.
"Ryder?" Chuey whispered when his breath returned to him.
"You need to run," Ryder moaned. "I've been shot. Get to the dispensary, come back and find me..."
Chuey turned; Marcos and his men were nearly on them. Chuey knew they had guns and some kind of freaky claw gloves. Behind them, the ground dropped off into a ravine. Water rushed deep below.
"Chuey, my boy, go. I'm ordering you to—"
Marcos parked his bike and lifted a shotgun in their direction. Chuey didn't have time to make a second decision. He grabbed Ryder by his jacket, and together they rolled the two remaining feet into the ravine.
Chuey managed to keep a hold on Ryder as they fell. Ryder hit the water first, and Chuey lost his grip. He kicked blindly toward the direction he hoped was up. His head broke through the water and he gasped for air. "Ryder?" Chuey called out frantically. "Ryder?"
He spotted a patch of black leather bobbing down the river. Chuey kicked out toward it and turned Ryder over. He was still breathing and his heart beat, but only just. His face had begun to bruise, and he was bleeding heavily, but Chuey didn't know from where. He did know he had broken bones. "I've got you, mate," he said between gasps for air.
When they were nearly at the shore, Chuey felt a wave of pain strong enough that he momentarily lost his grip and sunk beneath the water line. He kicked up again and reached for Ryder, glad he had only floated a little bit away and had remained face up. "I've got you, don't worry," Chuey said, but he didn't know who he was talking to. Ryder? Himself? Their baby?
Thankfully, he wasn't lying to any of them. Chuey's hand reached solid ground and he had never been so happy as he was to feel the mud squish through his fingers. He pulled them both onto the shore, checking above them to make sure they hadn't been followed. It looked like no one was brave enough to jump in after. In fact, the way they all stood, it looked like they were still waiting for Chuey and Ryder to surface. The brush cover was enough where they were that Chuey felt confident in that he could see them, but they couldn't see him. He reached for a handful of mud, smearing it over his exposed skin and clothing before doing the same to Ryder, who lay still beside him but was still breathing.
He panted for air as he took stock. A second wave of pain crashed through him, and Chuey knew for sure that he was going into labor. Fear threatened to take his breath. It was too early. Much too early. He couldn't go into labor now. Chuey reached into Ryder's pants and pulled out his cell phone, but he didn't have much hope. The screen was cracked and dark.
He sat up and immediately vomited. The thought settled on his shoulders as clear as it was horrifying. If he stayed where he was, he and his baby would die. Ryder might die, he didn't know how bad his injuries were, though if they were bad enough that he was passed out, Chuey could safely assume he wasn't the only one near death.
Laying back, looking at the stars as they began to shine that night, he allowed himself a single sob. When a second tried to follow, he swallowed it back. One was all he had time for.
Chuey got to his feet shakily. There was no way he could carry Ryder, but maybe, if he had a few sticks, he could make a basic sled to drag Ryder on. He'd done similar things whenever he had caught something too heavy for him to carry. It took a few minutes to find two sticks that were long enough to balance Ryder on without being so long that they were unusable. He bent over to roll Ryder's body on the sticks and started pulling.
It was slow work, made more painful by the contractions that increased in frequency and intensity and by the way Ryder kept falling off, needing to be rolled back on, which seemed to cause them both pain.
He didn't know how much time had passed. It was dark, though, and Chuey began to wonder what would happen if he didn't make it to help in time.
"Chuey, Chuey," Ryder groaned.
Chuey stopped, hoping that he was waking up, but he was just moaning in his sleep. It was for the best, he would be in more pain if he was awake. Ryder's face was contorted in agony. Chuey couldn't help but think about how, even in the middle of the chaos, Ryder's first thought had been of protecting Chuey. He was his mate, his love, his daddy, and now, he needed Chuey to be a big boy.
Chuey bit his tongue instead of screaming when the next contraction came. They didn't feel right, not at all how his padre had once described them. Then, he had spoken about the contractions like they were waves of pressure. Chuey felt pressure, but he also felt stabbing, blinding pain.
He kept walking.
He kept walking until his foot caught on a branch and he fell. When he found he couldn't get back to his feet, he crawled, moving forward a few inches and then reaching back to pull Ryder with him. At some point, Chuey had lost his stick sled. That was fine, they hadn't made his job much easier. Chuey's strength was reaching its limit.
"There are many types of animals that are most active at night," a bright voice said, much too loud to Chuey's ears. "Does anyone know what those animals are called?"
"Nocturnal," a kid's voice replied.
"Help," Chuey called out but his voice was so quiet, he couldn't even hear himself. "Help," he said again, meaning for it to be a yell while it was only a whisper. He'd known he was close, but he hadn't realized he was coming into the bear camp from the other side. Unless it was all in his head, the first voice had been Jack's.
"Yes, that's right, that's why we offer these midnight hikes to our campers. Do you hear that?"
"Help," Chuey said, not trying to scream any more. He was just trying to stay alive.
"Over here," Marcy, one of the bear pack members who helped Jack with the camp business, said. "Oh my God, Chuey?!"
Chuey reached up to the voice. He couldn't see Marcy. He saw her flashlight. It was the last thing he did see before passing out.
***
Chuey saw flashes, like a strobe light blinking while he had his eyes closed. He tried to move and found that he couldn't. "Help," he said, hoping someone could hear him. Hoping that someone would understand him.
"I'm here," a male voice that wasn't Ryder said. "Oh, my son, I'm so sorry. I'm here."
Chuey smiled with his eyes still closed. "Padre. You love me again."
He heard Logan crying for a few seconds before he cleared his throat. "Of course I do, Chuey. I am so sorry. I don't even know what was wrong with me. Actually, I do."
Chuey opened his eyes, and while most of the space was too bright, he saw his padre. Though there was one major change. "You're pregnant," he said idly. "How long have I...?" His breath caught in his throat as he reached for his stomach. In that moment of panic, he rediscovered how to move. His hands brushed against a bandage. "My baby? Ryder?" Tears filled his eyes.
"No, Chuey, it's okay, stop. Please don't cry. Ryder is here. He was banged up, but his surgery went perfectly. Look over," he said.
"Help me?" Chuey asked, unsure at that point how to move his head.
Logan helped point him in the right direction, and he saw Ryder, sleeping and hooked up to way too many machines, but the rhythmic beeping of his heart sounded steady and strong.
"My baby?"
"He's..."
"He?"
"Yes, son, he. When we found you, you were deep into labor. The baby needed to come out or he was going to kill you both. I performed your C-section while in the car driving to the hospital. It was early, though, too early for the baby to come out."
Chuey's breath caught in his throat.
"He's alive, Chuey, but he was born extremely premature. He's got hypotension and PDA, which means a vessel in his heart is not closing properly. It may heal on its own, but he might need surgery. Dr. Feller is hesitant to perform anything until his body is stronger. He's alive, but right now, it's touch and go."
"Can I see him?"
"Yes, but you can't touch him yet, okay?"
Chuey said goodbye to Ryder and made him promise not to wake up until he returned. Logan called for one of the nurses to bring them a wheelchair, and she helped get Chuey seated.
"They say you dragged Ryder and yourself fifteen miles through the forest," Logan said as he pushed him.
"Did I scare the campers?"
Logan laughed. "Yes, you did. But you know who you scared more? Garth. He just left. He's been by my side, watching over you."
"How long have I been here?"
"Two days."
Chuey let that sink in. He had been passed out for two entire days.
"Am I...?"
"You are fine. Your wound is healing nicely, and other than some scrapes, dehydration, and exhaustion, you were fine. Your body just needed the baby out."
"Why did it... I mean... did I do something wrong?"
"No. Word is, Marcos thinks he's killed you. Roscoe and Thorne decided it was safer to let him think that way. At least until Ryder wakes up."
"Then what happens?"
Before Logan could answer, they turned the last corner. He didn't know if it was a parent's intuition or if it was because the baby was so very tiny that Chuey recognized his son through the glass. He was in his own hospital room, hooked up to more machines than Ryder and inside a contraption that looked like a see-through escape pod. "He's so small," Chuey breathed.
Logan pushed him up to the glass, and Chuey pressed his hand against it.
"He is, but every moment, every second, he is stronger. He just needs to hang on a little more for his body to finish growing."
They remained there, Chuey in his wheelchair with his padre behind him as they stared at his son. Chuey thought it would look sad, that he wouldn't want to see his baby like that, but it was just the opposite. "He is a runt, like me," he said. "But he is strong, like me. Stay strong, sweet baby, I will go ask your father what we should name you."
As if by magic, when Logan rolled Chuey back to the hospital room that he shared with his mate, Ryder's eyes were open. He must have only just woken up since he was still looking around his person, confused. When he saw Chuey, he tried to jump out of bed, but his body seemed to flat-out refuse.
"You'll need to take it easy at least for a day," Logan said.
Ryder didn't even acknowledge him. His eyes never left Chuey. "You didn't run," he said finally. "Our baby?"
"He's down the hallway. Rest, and we can figure out what to name him," Chuey replied.
"What happened to me?"
Chuey looked to Logan. "Let's see. Official diagnosis? Other than the gunshot wound, you had a fractured skull, four broken ribs, a sprained ankle, internal bleeding, and your left lung tried to collapse."
"Is that all?" Ryder asked, and Chuey barked with laughter.
"I'm going to tell everyone that you're both awake. There will be a lot of relieved people tonight," Logan said. He was nearly out of the room when he stopped in the doorway, turning around. "Thank you, Ryder, for taking care of my son. I guess he's your mate now. I won't blame my behavior on my pregnancy, even though I totally could. But I wasn't even pregnant when you first left, Chuey. It was my ignorance, plain and simple. Please forgive me."
Chuey had already forgiven him. More than that, Chuey had never needed an apology.
When they were alone, Chuey maneuvered up onto the bed, lying beside Ryder. "Thank you for being alive."
"A lot of thanks going around," Ryder said, and Chuey could hear as well as feel his words.
"A lot to be thankful for. What about Carlos? I've always liked that name."
Ryder was silent for a second and then kissed the top of Chuey's head. "Carlos it is."