The cavalry couldn’t come fast enough. By the time the rest of the Pharaohs showed, Roarke was sure he had a broken finger or two and couldn’t see through the sting in his eyes as blood poured from a wound at his forehead. He was still thrashing around violently when someone placed a calming hand on his shoulder, squeezed, and he felt himself relax.
Rick was there, dragging him out of the bar.
“Save it for another time, Mike Tyson,” he said, dragging him over to his bike in a sloppy raving heap. “We’ve gotta get the old man to a hospital, stat. Get it together and let’s go.”
Roarke turned around to see several Pharaohs helping Robert out of the bar while he gripped, pained, at the wound in his stomach.
“Shit,” he hissed and rushed over. “Get him on my bike.”
He wasn’t the fastest or the best driver in the group, but he wasn’t about to let anyone else deliver his grandfather there. No one objected as they settled him on the passenger end of the bike and held him there in a balance while Roarke got on. As soon as he was, Robert put all his energy into gripping at his shoulders tightly to hold himself straight.
“You going to be okay, gramps?” he asked.
“Just drive,” he gurgled out and Roarke didn’t need telling twice.
They rushed off into the night, the wind at their bikes and practically stormed the hospital, like they did the Caracals warehouse, to get Robert inside.
***
Hanna knew that Roarke felt awful. She didn’t get word until the morning when Amber went to bring her coffee and told her to get dressed because everyone was at the hospital to visit Robert. She gave her the details on the way and Hanna was ready to kill Roarke when she saw him. But when she actually did lay eyes on him she felt her heart clench at the sight. If he looked before like the type to pout, in that room, he looked like a sad, scared little boy. She didn’t say as much, knowing what it would do to his ego. But she thought it made him stronger than everyone else in the room.
“Will he be okay?”
“We’re waiting to hear,” Rick said, for once without a trace of the malice he usually reserved just for her. In fact, she was willing to be grateful to him for pulling Roarke out of that incredibly idiotic situation.
She noticed a cut that had been haphazardly cleaned on Roarke’s forehead and bruising at his knuckles that hinted at broken bones. She sighed and walked over to him, gently letting her body heat and presence say everything she couldn’t. She was there for him. She’d kill him if he did that again. But she was there for him.
They stayed at the hospital until the nurse, shaking in his scrubs at the sight of an entire biker gang in one room, told them through a cracking voice that visiting hours were over and they’d have to come back tomorrow if they wanted to see him. He promised he’d be well taken care of and all sorts of other comforts to prevent himself from being on the wrong end of any switchblades. Rick clapped the man on the back and thanked him as they walked out of the room together and got on their bikes to head back to the bar.
***
It had been a few days. The hospital informed them that Robert was in stable condition and everything seemed to be going smoothly, though he slept most of the day and wasn’t incredibly responsive when he was awake. They spent all the time they could at his bedside, often going in groups and taking turns to make sure he was never left alone in case he woke at any point. The wound on Hanna’s shoulder was healing nicely but the pain returned as Amber pulled out the stitches.
“Don’t be a baby,” she said when Hanna winced.
“Do you have to do this at the bar?” Rick asked, cringing at the sight.
“Hush.”
Hanna couldn’t stop the slight jumps and gasps when she felt a particular snag on her skin. The wound was closed and the bleeding had stopped, but the skin was still tender and just underneath the surface she knew the wound was still healing, flesh still knitting itself back together completely. She swallowed as another stitch was cut and pulled free.
“This is the most excitement we’ve had all week,” Amber said, pulling the last stitch while Hanna squeezed Roarke’s offered hand tightly to get the last bit of stress out as her shoulder was finally freed from its torment. The pain was subsiding but she knew in the morning it would return with vigor, as those things do.
“Alright, this calls for a round I think, she’s been a good patient,” Amber said, cleaning up the remnants of the procedure and snapping her fingers to the girl behind the bar who started pouring drinks out of the tap.
When she let go of Roarke’s hand he disappeared behind the bar to throw together the cocktail he’d been making her that closely resembled a Bloody Mary, minus the vodka. They’d gotten to the point where they could hold hands in front of his gang and maybe even get in a kiss or two but the baby thing needed to be eased into, as far as they both were concerned. In fact, if Hanna had it her way, no one else would know about the baby until the day they called them all from the hospital to say she’d given birth. Amber would kill them but it was better than putting up with several months of questions and people treating her like a doll about to break.
Roarke had been especially attentive where that was concerned. He often sprang up if he saw her going for water or food or anything and handed it to her himself. He earned the teasing of Rick who seemed to think it was some kind of smitten show of affection. In a way it was. Though she wasn’t sure if Rick’s good humor towards her and their relationship would withstand the news lurking underneath.
“Alright, we have absolutely nothing to toast, which sounds depressing, but cheers to us at least,” Roarke said and they all clinked glasses and took swigs of their drinks.
In all honesty, Hanna couldn’t stand Bloody Marys. She hated tomatoes, though Roarke missed the part where she picked tomatoes off of her burger every time they got food. But he was far too sweet for her to ruin his attempts by telling him she was seconds from gagging every time he made her one of those awful drinks.
They carried on, someone turning the jukebox up playing swing music which Hanna found incredibly corny until Roarke pulled her onto the dance floor and into a dance. It was still corny and felt like some fifties prom, but she couldn’t stop the smile and flush on her face as they moved through the floor, dancing like idiots. The more he drank, the bigger his smile and his eyes told another story entirely when they met hers and they shared their secret silently across the room.
His looks slowly became more and more heated as the night went on and, even without alcohol in her system, she could feel the effects. There was something incredibly domestic about his dorky moves on the dancefloor and she blamed the hormones from the baby for making her want something domestic in such a sexual way. But the heart--and other parts of her--wants what it wants. So after a few more minutes, she took him by the wrist and they silently crept together down the stairs and into the room below.