CHAPTER ELEVEN
For weeks I’ve heard whispers at the clubhouse about this fight Wrath is in. It doesn’t surprise me that he boxes or wrestles or whatever he does. What surprises me is that Rock asked me if I wanted to go, and I said yes.
I’m curious.
Although, now that we’re here, I get the idea that this isn’t some nice, neat regulated event we’re attending.
Casting a suspicious glance around the run-down parking lot, I dismount from Rock’s bike and hand over my helmet.
“Are we even allowed to be here?”
He’s too busy chuckling and shaking his head to answer my question.
Why on earth had I agreed to come along?
“You’re sure we’re not going to get mugged?” Teller, Murphy, and Z pull up next to Rock, drowning out my words.
Rock secures everything and takes my hand. As the only woman in our little group, I’m feeling very out of place.
I’d been informed earlier this was a “no colors” event, so the guys are wearing plain long-sleeved T-shirts. I, however, am wearing a blue shirt with just the Lost Kings design on the front. On the back, conveniently placed just above my ass, Lost Kings MC is spelled out in gray letters.
I’m not sure what to make of it. Part of me is insulted. Part of me is insanely turned on and wants to find a dark corner where I can have Rock to myself for a few minutes.
I tug at the hem of the T-shirt. “You said colors weren’t allowed. You sure this is okay? I’m not going to get assaulted or something, am I?”
The guys circle around me. Z pops his sunglasses on top of his head, and with a straight face says, “I’ll kill anyone who dares fuck with you, Hope.”
The way he says it, I’m not sure if that’s comforting or terrifying.
Rock puts his arm around my waist. “Baby, you’re repping your man’s club and showing your support for Wrath. That’s allowed.”
Rock pats Z’s shoulder as a “thank you,” I guess.
“T, you got…?” He rubs his thumb and middle finger together in the universal sign for “cash.” Teller pats the chest of his plain, black leather jacket. I assume that’s a yes.
“Stick close, Hope. Do not leave my side for any reason. If Z or any of the guys tell you to move, you move.”
“Rochlan, you’re scaring me.”
He smiles at the way I use his full first name. “Baby doll, I’d probably be telling you the same thing if I was taking you to a Patriots game and you were wearing a Giants jersey. No need to be scared.”
What the hell does that mean?
Rock takes my left hand. Z walks just a few steps ahead of us. Teller walks to my right, so close he might as well hold my other hand. Murphy is directly behind us as we cross the rundown parking lot.
Saying the old cement factory down by the river has seen better days is an understatement. We walk through weeds and slip through a broken, chain-link fence. With the area cut off by miles of the silver barrier, there is no way anyone could have parked closer. I spot other people appearing out of the dark and trickling into the building.
When we stop and enter the line to get in, I brace myself against Rock and stand on tiptoes. “Is Wrath going to be pissed I’m here?”
Rock stops scanning the crowd long enough to answer my question. “No, baby doll. Why would you even think that?”
No other women associated with his club are here. That’s why. In fact, looking around, I spot very few women at all. The ones I do see are tarted up in skirts that barely cover their ass cheeks. Most stumble over the uneven ground in their stilettos and have to stop every few seconds to hike up their halter tops. Each one has a logo somewhere on their body that I assume means they are here in support of a rival club. Everything he’s told me about their “rivals” scares the pants off me. I shuffle in my Vans slip-ons, relieved Rock warned me to dress comfortably.
His exact words were “for ease of movement,” whatever that meant.
We get wanded as we pass through the door. The guy wielding the wand lingers a little too long on my chest, and Rock gives him a hard stare.
The guy doesn’t seem very thorough, so I’m not exactly convinced the place is weapons-free.
Once we’re inside, the place is an unimpressive, wide-open, concrete space. There are high school gym style bleachers on one side and a crudely constructed ring in the center of the room. No extra pieces of furniture, chairs, nothing.
Rock flicks his wrist, and Teller hurries over to a window and talks into a hole in the glass. With the glare, I can’t see who it is. I turn and scan the crowd. A lot of rough-looking guys. No one is smiling. Everyone seems tense and edgy.
I’m completely freaked out.
Everything about this situation is telling me to run. I don’t belong. I swear my curiosity will be the death of me.
But I trust Rock to keep me safe.
Z stands rigid, peering into the crowd. I look in the same direction and see Trinity wading through the sea of people to get to us. I’m overjoyed to see her.
I take a step toward her, but Rock pulls me back. He thrusts his chin at Z who launches himself into the crowd to grab Trinity and bring her to us.
I shake off Rock’s hand and give her a hug. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”
Her mouth curves up in a nervous smile. She’s dressed almost the same as me, except her club shirt has skinny little straps holding it up instead of actual sleeves. Her breasts are spilling out of the top, and the beautiful ink decorating her shoulder is on display.
“How’s our boy?” Z asks her.
“Cold as ice,” she answers.
Rock pulls her to his side and puts his arm around her shoulders.
“He’ll be fine. He’s always like that before a fight. That’s why we’re out here.”
I peer over at her. She’s nervous. For Wrath?
Teller jogs over, waving a bunch of slips of paper at us. He hands one to everyone, including me. Not sure what to do with it, I wait. Everyone shoves them in their pockets, so I do the same.
Finally figuring out what we’re all doing—yes, I’m slow—I blurt out, “Why would anyone bet against Wrath? He’s the scariest guy I’ve ever met.”
Z looks insulted, but everyone else except Trinity laughs.
We take seats at the bottom of the bleachers. The very front row. It doesn’t escape my notice that we are positioned next to the closest exit or that Z and Rock have deliberately sandwiched me between them. I have to lean forward and over Z’s lap if I want to talk to Trinity. Rock jerks his head, and Z switches places with Trinity so we can talk.
Except she’s oddly quiet.
“You okay?”
Her lip quivers. “Yeah, just nervous.”
She’s absently picking at her nails, sending little chips of polish flying all over the place. I cover her hands with one of mine and squeeze. She wraps her fingers around mine, and we sit holding hands.
Rock leans down and grazes my ear with his lips. “Thanks, baby doll.”
I turn and catch him for a quick kiss.
With a smile, he explains Wrath’s fight will go last. Answering my earlier question about people betting against him, he tells me in a low voice, “People think he’s too old to fight. And they always make the mistake of thinking because he’s so big, he must be slow.”
“Old? Isn’t he younger than you?”
That gets a wry smile out of Rock. “Yeah, but for an underground fighter, it’s old.”
“Okay. Still, though, this seems like a lot of people.”
“He hasn’t had a fight in a couple of months. Plus, tonight there’s more than one fight, so that’s why it’s so packed and frenzied. People want to see if the big guy is finally going to take a fall.”
“Finally?”
“He’s never lost an underground fight.”
“Yet they still bet against him?”
Rock shrugs.
Z leans over Trinity and taps my leg. “Unlike most of these guys, Wrath has no interest in getting an MMA deal or something. He just enjoys unleashing his fury on people,” he jokes like this is all completely normal.
Trinity looks like she’s going to be sick. I wrap my arm around her and rub her back for a second.
The first fight is unimpressive. A twenty-nine year-old guy, in reasonably good shape, stomps a pudgy kid in under a minute.
I lean against Rock. “What are the rules?”
He shrugs. “Survival of the fittest?”
Boos and shouts echo in the large space. The crowd is pissed.
Not enough bloodshed, I guess.
The second fight is a little more action-packed. The winner, a short, stocky kid with red hair, wraps things up early by choking his opponent out at the end of the first round. The loser has to be carried out of the ring.
The bloodthirsty crowd roars when the unconscious kid gets taken into a back room.
A sharp, bleating horn cuts through the noise, settling the crowd down.
The man in the center of the ring holds a megaphone up to his lips.
“Five minutes ‘til the blood bath you’ve all been waiting for. Get those bets placed now. Windows close when the opponents reach the ring.”
There’s a frenzy of pushing and shoving to get over to the windows.
My heart thumps a little faster. The energy level in the place has definitely amped up and twisted into something dangerous. This crowd is intent on two things: blood and money. I’m worried our chances of leaving in one piece are getting worse by the minute.
If Wrath wins, are all the people who lost money going to come after us?
The shouting and shoving has risen to a deadly pitch.
“You sure we’re okay?” I ask Rock.
“We’re good, baby doll.”
He looks as still and calm as always. Even so, I can’t relax.
I squeeze Trinity’s hand, and she gives me a grateful smile.
It doesn’t take long for that piercing bleat to silence the room again.
“Tonight we have a meeting of old and young. Our new challenger has been fighting professional MMA for just over seven months. This is his first time in the dirty underground, so let’s give the Irish Storm some encouragement, folks!”
I tug on Rock’s sleeve. “Why is he going up against a professional?”
“Babe, trust me. It will be fine.”
The crowd goes wild when “Irish” enters the ring. Boos, whistles, and cheers fill the room. Our little group remains silent.
Irish Storm wears a serious expression as he bounces up and down, then scans the crowd.
Wrath’s opponent has the big and scary thing down pat, but he’s nowhere near as terrifying as Wrath.
“Our next fighter scares the shit out of even me. Undefeated in the underground, he doesn’t come out of hibernation often, but when he does, it’s scary as fuck! Hope you were careful placing your bets because they say the last thing to grow old in a man is Wrath!”
As introductions go, it lacks the fire I expected. But the crowd eats it up. The volume inside the room explodes. I don’t think as many people have bet against Wrath as we think.
He’s the only one tonight who has music playing when he walks out. I recognize the song as “The Way of the Fist,” and I snort with laughter. “That’s an appropriate song choice.”
Rock looks at me like he’s surprised I know it, but he forgets I spent three years of law school chasing Sophie around heavy metal shows on the weekends.
Wrath strolls into the room as if he’s stepping into his favorite bar. Casual, like he does this every night of the week. Shirtless, his bulky muscles ripple under his tattooed skin. He’s wearing those low slung, shiny athletic shorts I’ve always found rather sexy, and I see even his legs are covered in ink. As he turns full circle, I spot WRATH tattooed in bold, black, contoured letters across his shoulders. A Lost Kings tattoo, similar to the one that brands Rock’s skin, is situated below. I figure he’s had the Wrath tat longer than he’s been in the MC. As he turns our way, Z leans over and whispers into Trinny’s ear. We’re sitting close enough that I catch the scowl on Wrath’s face.
“Knock it off, Zero,” Rock warns.
“What? Just making sure—”
“You’re wrong.” Trinity cuts him off.
“Yeah, that why you been up in his bed every night for the last two weeks?” In a lower voice that I don’t think I was meant to hear, he says to her, “I don’t remember you ever spending an entire night with me.”
She grits her teeth. “Shut. Up.”
“Don’t break his concentration, Z,” I snap at him, surprising myself.
Z gives me an amused look—thankfully he doesn’t seem to be offended. Although he might be trying to rile Wrath, he’s also upsetting Trinity. And let’s face it, I may not like Wrath all that much, but I don’t want to see him get hurt either.
Some sort of bell sounds, and we turn our attention to the ring. The fighters knock knuckles, and then it’s game on. I’m not sure what I expected, but it’s both stunning and ghastly.
Irish rushes around the ring with an abundance of energy. He shuffles from foot to foot, darts back and forth. After a few exploratory jabs where he catches nothing but air, he backs up. Wrath is surprisingly quick. I also get the impression he’s toying with his opponent.
When Wrath finally attacks, I get a visual representation on the true meaning of violence.
The crowd explodes. People rush to get to the ring. We can’t see, so Trinity and I hop up on the bleachers.
Wrath is beautifully brutal. He lands punch after punch until blood pours from the kid’s nose. Irish ducks and tries for Wrath’s legs, to take him to the ground. What a mistake, though, because Wrath rams his knee in his opponent’s face and lights into him with his fists again. Last, he crashes his elbow into the center of Irish’s nose, and the kid crumples to the ground. There’s blood everywhere, and without thinking, a scream tears out of me.
Rock wraps his hands around my waist and plucks me off the bench. “Stop screaming,” he shouts.
“Is he dead? Did Wrath kill him?”
“Probably not,” Rock answers in a much more normal tone of voice.
“Probably?”
“They know what they’re signing up for, Hope.”
The fight is called in Wrath’s favor, and almost instantly, we’re pushed around with the movement of the crowd. People are yelling and rushing toward the window to get their cash.
Teller collects our slips and takes off, Murphy right behind him.
“Prez, we gotta get out of here,” Z says in a low, urgent tone. Trinity and I are mashed up between Rock and Z as they keep us protected from the crowd. I peek around Rock and sigh in relief when I see Wrath coming at us. His bare chest is covered in sweat and blood, but he’s muscling into a T-shirt as he approaches. His jeans are unbuttoned, shiny gym shorts sticking out, boots unlaced, and a backpack slung over one shoulder.
Trinity wriggles out from under Z and runs right into Wrath. “Whoa, I’m fine.” He wraps her up in a hug and kisses the top of her head. Even with all the chaos around, the three of us stop to stare.
“Wrath, we gotta go,” Z warns.
He looks up and nods once, then slips a skull cap over his bright blond hair. As a unit, we all move toward one of the side exits. The wash of cold air is a relief. Teller and Murphy are standing tight against the outside wall, waiting for us. Wrath has hold of Trinity’s hand now, and she seems to have calmed down.
“I’m in a spot around the back,” he informs Rock.
“Fuck. We’re in the lot over.”
“We’ll meet up at the gas station at the bottom of the hill.”
Everyone agrees, and we part ways.
“What’s wrong, Rock?” I ask as I try to keep up the fast pace the guys have set.
He slides his arm around my shoulders and tugs me close. “Just don’t want to be here when things get rowdy. Some people lost a lot of money.”
Once we slip through the fence, the five of us break into a sprint across the parking lot. All around us, the sounds of cars and bikes are coming to life. Rock tosses a plain black hoodie at me. After I slip it on, he thrusts my helmet into my hands. We take off at a normal pace with Z in front of us.
Normally, I would rest my head against Rock and close my eyes. But tonight is not a joyride. I feel like I should be alert and aware of what’s going on around us, if it’s at all possible.
We don’t stop at the gas station. Wrath sees us coming and joins us. He takes over the front position, and Z falls behind.
Once we’re clear of the Ironworks city limits, I feel better. We’re taking the long way back to Empire, and it’s all winding, deserted county roads. I start to relax and even slide my hands under Rock’s shirt to rest them against his rippling muscles.
Suddenly, Teller appears on our left, wearing a severe expression as he tries to signal to Rock. I turn slightly to see what’s got him spooked. A dark SUV is barreling down on us. Z is weaving back and forth to keep the truck away. Murphy is coming up on our other side.
“Rock!”
“Hang on.”
He motions Teller and Murphy to get up alongside Wrath.
We’re traveling a lot faster than Rock’s ever taken me, and as I look at the drop off along the side of the road, I’m terrified we’re not going to make it out of this.
The SUV is so close I hear the engine straining. I’m frightened something has happened to Z.
Rock’s trying to slow the bike down, but the SUV keeps pace and keeps pushing us to the right. The cliff isn’t as steep here, but it’s still a fucking hill not meant for two-wheel travel. Which one is more likely to kill us? Being squished by two tons of steel or flying down the slope into a tree?
Neither option appeals to me.
“Hold on as long as you can!” Rock shouts. I guess that means he’s considered our options and chosen plan B. As the wheels edge off the pavement, the bike jerks, and I struggle to stay upright. We’re bouncing down the hillside a lot faster than feels comfortable. Near the bottom, we collide with a downed tree, throwing us both clear of the bike.
I land hard in the grass. My palms sting from bits of gravel that have migrated down the hill over the years. My right side is in agony. Slowly I inventory my body parts. Legs, feet, arms, hands. Check, check, check. Ouch. My hands are a bloody mess.
And whoever pushed us off the road isn’t done with us.
Bullets whiz wildly down the hill. I can just barely see the lights from the SUV stopped on the side of the road. I don’t see Rock anywhere. I start crawling on the ground until I reach the bike. On the other side of the log, I spot Rock.
“Hope?”
I hurry to his side in a crouch.
“Are you okay?” My hands fly over his body, checking for injuries.
“Thank God. Are you hurt, baby?” he rasps.
After the spectacular fall we took, I don’t think the few scrapes on my palms count as being injured. “No.”
Trinity comes out of nowhere. Her face is streaked with mud, and tears are running down her face. Rock is instantly alert.
“Where is he, Trinny?”
“This way.” She points behind her. “He’s not moving, Rock. It’s bad.”
Someone above is returning fire, and the bullets have stopped flying our way. For now. Trinity and I rush to follow Rock. He turns and hands me a gun.
A fucking gun.
What the hell am I supposed to do with that?
I slip it into the pocket of my hoodie and pray I don’t accidentally shoot my boob off.
When we reach Wrath, he’s groaning, and Trinity bursts into tears again.
“Stay quiet, man,” Rock says as he puts a hand on Wrath’s chest.
Rock has another gun in his hand. Where the fuck has he been hiding this arsenal?
“Hope, what did you do with the gun?”
“It’s in my pocket.”
He looks about ready to throttle me, and I feel completely useless. “Give it to Trinity.”
I hand it over, and she checks it like a badass.
“Stay with him,” Rock says to both of us.
Trinity looks down at Wrath once more, and then she’s on alert. Wrath starts moaning, and I grab his hand.
“Shh, honey, it’s okay,” I soothe.
“My leg,” he groans.
I run the back of my hand over his cheek and forehead, and it comes away soaked with blood. More gunshots. Trinity is completely still and aware.
“Trin?”
“Right here, Wyatt,” she answers without looking down at us.
He struggles to get up, but I stop him with a hand against his chest. “Wrath, don’t. You could have something broken. Plus, there’s still guys shooting at us.”
He croaks out, “Prez?”
“He’s okay.”
Thankfully, Wrath seems to be coming around. He realizes I’m holding his hand, and he squeezes it tight. “It’s going to be okay, Hope.” The guy with the broken leg reassures me.
Good grief.
He opens his eyes and looks up at me with concern. “This is why I been tryin’ to push you away, Cinderella. So you don’t get hurt.”
Tears cloud my vision. “Wrath,” I sigh. His eyes drift shut.
I check him over for other injuries, and he sucks in a painful breath when I get to his left leg.
“I think it’s broken.”
He grunts and opens his eyes again. “No shit.”
I don’t have a lot of light to inspect the damage to his head, but I try to locate the cut. It’s not as bad as I feared, but still bleeding a lot.
“Ow, fuck. Watch it,” he growls.
He grabs my hand again, holding me still.
“I don’t know what to do,” I cry miserably.
“Just keep holding my hand. My leg really fucking hurts.”
“Okay.”
It’s quiet up above now. A shiver works over Wrath, and I whip off my sweatshirt, covering as much of his torso as I can with it. I rub my hand over his chest, trying to keep him warm. Tires squeal, and it sounds like the SUV is getting the hell out of there. A few seconds later, two bikes roar to life and take off as well.
The snapping of twigs and crunch of gravel announces someone is coming.
“Trin, it’s me and Z—don’t shoot,” Rock’s voice comes out of the darkness.
She makes a clicking noise with the gun and shoves it in the back of her pants. I’m still holding Wrath’s hand and running my other hand over him, but I think he passed out.
“You girls okay?” Z asks.
I’m watching to make sure Wrath is still breathing, so I only nod. Rock kneels down beside me and puts his hand on my arm.
“Honey, you’re shivering.”
“Afraid he’s going into shock. He needs an ambulance bad.” My voice comes out all quivery.
“A driver stopped. He’s calling 911. That’s what finally chased those fuckers off.”
“His leg, Rock. And his head.”
He takes out his cell phone. The shattered screen still provides enough light for Rock to shine it over Wrath’s head to check the cut.
“Get that outta my face,” Wrath grumbles.
“Well, his personality is fine,” Z jokes.
“Fuck off.”
Finally, sirens pierce the air.
Z takes off to meet the ambulance and explain where we’re located.
Trinity kneels next to Wrath and takes his other hand.
He finally opens an eye. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” she answers softly.
His eyes close, and a shiver works over him. “I’m really fucking cold, guys,” he grits out.
I shoot a worried glance at Rock, and he shrugs off his jacket, laying it over Wrath’s chest. Trinity does the same.
“That better?”
He doesn’t answer this time, and tears start dropping down Trinity’s cheeks.
A helicopter had to be called in to lift Wrath out and take him to the nearest hospital. The rest of us got to ride in either an ambulance or cop car.
You can guess which one I ended up in.
No matter how many times I explained to the two useless pigs that we’d been run off the road, they kept insisting something else happened. I had no idea what actually happened or who those fuckers were.
Was I going to tell the cops it probably had to do with the underground fight we just left?
Fuck, no.
But I gave them the rest of the information, so at least it seemed like I wanted to be cooperative. Finally they let me go find Hope.
My girl did amazing.
Atomic rage fills me at the thought that she could have died tonight because of me. She never would have been in this situation otherwise. People didn’t try to run her off the road because she caused them to lose thousands of dollars on an illegal fight. No, that shit is part of my life, and it could have cost her hers. I’m sick with disgust.
But she kept her cool. She didn’t panic when we went over the cliff. She listened to me. She did her best to keep Wrath safe and comfortable until we could get him help. I didn’t think I could love her more until I saw her kneeling on the ground beside my brother, holding his hand, talking to him softly, her sweatshirt looking like a baby blanket on his big chest.
The hospital doesn’t want to let me see her because she’s not my wife. I get loud, and next thing I know, she’s flying out of one of the emergency room cubicles and into my arms.
“Baby, you okay?”
She winces when I hug her and her hands are bandaged, but other than that, she seems sound. I push all the awful things that could have happened out of my mind.
Trinity is fine. They checked her over. Barely a scratch. Doesn’t surprise me. Girl is very resilient.
Wrath is still out cold.
It’s hours before they will let us see him, but no one is leaving. The rest of the brothers filter in as the news spreads.
Teller, Murphy, and Dex join me in a huddle.
“What do we know?” Muphy asks.
Teller looks into the hallway. “Z’s checking out some leads.”
“Can’t be fucking Vipers. They would’ve straight-up shot us, not pulled that cowardly bullshit,” I mutter.
“Better not be them. We had the all clear to be there,” Murphy reminds me.
Not like it would matter to those honor-less fucks. The stupidity of my decision to bring Hope into this is close to crushing me.
Z bumps my shoulder and pulls me into the hallway.
With a shifty look up and down the open space and a low voice, he explains. “Looks like it was two assholes from Irish’s crew.”
“Who the fuck is that?”
“The kid Wrath fought? He fucked him up pretty good, so they were looking for payback.”
“They could’ve fucking killed us! Over a goddamn fight their guy signed up for?”
“Fuckin’ pussies.”
It would have made more sense if it had been one of the other crews who lost money on Wrath. Fuck, it would have made sense if it had been some Vipers since we were in their territory—all clear or not—but this is fucking stupid and senseless.
“Find out who they’re connected to. I want to know how much blowback there will be when we handle them.”
“Prez—”
“I’m fucking serious, Z. They want to fuck with us? Fine, but Hope and Trinity could have been hurt or killed.” I shake my head, still pissed with myself for bringing the girls. “No excuses for bringing the women into our shit.”
“I know.”
“Payback is a bitch.”
“Fuck, yeah.”
I give Z a manly slap on the shoulder. “I need you, man. Shit’s going bad all around us, and our enforcer is gonna be down for eight or more weeks. You gotta step up.”
Z sends me a “fuck you” look, and I feel a little bad for how that came out. “You know what I mean. Membership is tight as it is. With Wrath down, it’s gonna be even harder.”
We’re pulled out of our conversation when Trinity wanders into the hall, looking more lost than I’ve seen her in years.
I hold out my hand and she drifts over, letting me hug her to my side. “Babe, I want you to go home and get some rest.”
“I need to see him first.”
Z and I share a glance. “I know. As soon as he’s awake, I’ll have one of the guys bring you back. Promise.”
After some cajoling, Z takes her home, and I go into the waiting room to find Hope standing and staring out the window. I nudge her with my shoulder, and the corners of her mouth lift in a weary smile. She settles down in the chair beside me and takes my hand.
“You all right, baby doll?”
“Yeah.”
After what seems like many hours, a doctor finally comes in. “Wyatt Ramsey’s family?”
I stand up. “I’m his brother.” I’m not getting blocked by some bullshit hospital rules again. He’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a brother anyway, so it’s not a lie as far as I’m concerned.
The doctor looks at each of us before pulling me into the hallway. I tug Hope along. Doc looks at her but doesn’t say anything.
“Mr. Ramsey has a concussion. The cut on his temple wasn’t too severe. We stitched it, but we need to keep him a night or two for observation to make sure there’s nothing more serious like a cerebral hemorrhage. Now, his leg is a different story. He suffered a tibial shaft fracture. It’s a stable fracture, which is good. With this type of fracture, the bone is barely out of place. The broken ends of the bones basically line up correctly and are aligned.”
He rubs his fists together in an imitation of what he’s trying to explain. Hope looks ready to barf.
“He’s got a cast. It should be completely healed in four to six months if he listens to instructions,” the doc continues.
I snort at that.
He nods once as if he suspected Wrath might be an ornery dickhead. “He’s in very good shape, a healthy young man, so he should be closer to the four-month end. He’s also a large man, so it’s crucial he keeps his weight off the leg right now. In a few weeks, I’m going to recommend some sort of physical therapy, and he can probably use a cane or crutches in limited amounts of time. The fracture pain usually stops long before the bone is able to handle the stresses of his everyday activities, so it’s going to be important he doesn’t overdo it or it could fail to heal properly. Are there a lot of stairs at his house?”
I think about his room at the clubhouse. Upstairs. Fuck.
“Yeah.” I run through what other options are available. Trinity’s room downstairs. Boy, is she going to be pissed. Maybe I’ll set him up in my house, although I’d feel safer having him at the clubhouse. Double fuck. Hope’s house is a one story. No fucking way.
“We’ll get it sorted out, doc. Thanks.”
He turns his keen eyes on Hope. “Are you Trinity?”
She blushes before answering. “No.”
“Hope?”
An even deeper flush stains her cheeks. “Yes.”
“Good—he’s been asking for you too. If he’s still awake, you both can visit with him for a few minutes.”
Hope swings her questioning gaze in my direction, and I shrug. Poor bastard is probably delirious.
I hesitate and wince when I see my brother in the hospital bed. The nurse told me they had to get him a special, larger-sized bed, but he still dwarfs it. We’ve been through a lot of scrapes and rough times together, but this is definitely the worst I’ve seen my indestructible best friend.
As soon as he holds his hand out to her, Hope rushes to his side.
I’m not sure how I feel about that.
“Oh my gosh, they shaved all your beautiful hair off,” she fusses while gingerly touching his scalp.
Wrath looks her over carefully. “You okay, sweetie?” He frowns at the bandages on her hands.
Sweetie? The letters W, T, and F come to mind.
“Some scrapes. Nothing. How are you?”
“I feel like I got run over.”
I step up. “You kinda did, brother.”
“Where’s Trin? Is she okay?”
“Yeah, I sent her home with one of the guys to get some rest.”
His face settles into hard, angry lines. Whether it’s from pain or something I said, I’m not sure.
“Who’d you send her home with?”
Something I said. “Easy, brother. She’s on her way back now.”
Wrath grunts at me and turns his attention to Hope, taking her hand again.
“You sure you’re okay? That was some bad shit, sweetheart. Thank you for taking care of me like you did.”
Her free hand flutters in the air. “I didn’t do anything useful. I froze. Trinity is the one who went all Tomb Raider on us.”
Wrath huffs out a laugh, then scrunches up in pain.
“Fuck. How long did doc say I’ll be down?”
I don’t dick around and just give it to him straight. “Four to six months.”
I can see he’s already prepared to fight, so I cut him off. “You’re going to follow every damn instruction. If you don’t, your leg will heal all fucked up and you’ll be a gimpy fuck the rest of your life. So six months is nothing to make sure you’re not walking in circles from now on.”
He chuckles and settles back into the bed. “You gotta take my patch, don’t ya?”
“Fuck, man. Why are you worried about that now? It’s not going anywhere. Z and the others will take care of shi—”
“Can’t ride. You gotta take my cut, prez.”
“Knock it off.”
Hope seems to have checked out of the conversation, but for some unknown reason, she’s still holding the fucker’s hand and running her fingers up and down his arm. Mildly disgusted at how jealous I am of my girlfriend comforting my mangled best friend, I wrack my brain for some good news to tell him.
“We know who it was?” he asks before I can come up with a better topic of conversation.
Hope looks at me with the very same question in her eyes.
“Z has a lead on it. We’ll discuss it later.”
“When they gonna let me out?”
“A day or two. We gotta get you set up on the first floor somewhere—”
“He can stay in my room,” Trinity says softly from the doorway.
Wrath’s whole face lights the fuck up when he sees her. He holds out his empty hand. Still hanging onto my girl with the other hand, though.
Greedy bastard.
Trinity brushes by me. Except for pulling on her bottom lip with her teeth, she seems calm.
“You’re such a big baby. Don’t you know how to drive your bike off a cliff by now?”
His face breaks into a wide grin. Hope lets him go and gives him a pat on his uninjured leg before walking to my side.
I tap Wrath’s hand once. “We’re gonna get going. Trin, you need a ride, call me.”
Our departure barely registers for either of them.
I stop in the waiting room to tell everyone else we’re leaving. Except we need a damn ride. “Who’s got a car?”
Dex jumps up. “Take mine. I’ll catch a ride with Swan.”
I catch his keys, take Hope’s hand, and get the fuck out of there.
Hope is so quiet in the car, I’m worried about how she’s processing everything.
“You okay?”
“Just tired. I want to crawl into bed for like a week.”
It hits me we haven’t discussed where we’re going. By some unspoken agreement, we never spend the night at her house together. My plan is to bring her home with me. I need to have her close.
As if she hears my thoughts, she puts her hand over mine. “I’d like to go home. To my house,” she clarifies.
This is not good. I’m not sure how to frame what I want to say. The thought of having her out of my sight for even a second is unacceptable.
“Do you want to pick up some things and bring them to my house?” I’m not sure why, but I don’t think taking her to the MC is a good idea right now, even though it’s where she’d be safest. Once again, I find myself trying to tread lightly. Probably because I feel so fucking guilty about what happened. I wish I could see inside her head and know what she’s thinking.
After a while, she answers. “No. I’d just like to sleep in my own bed. If you think it’s safe.” Her words have an edge to them that rattles me. She’s implying that I’ve put her life in danger. It infuriates me because it’s true. My temper is not going to help, so I try like hell to simmer down.
“Yeah. It’s safe.” I want her to ask me to stay with her. She needs to be the one to break our unspoken agreement. As much as I don’t relish the idea of sleeping in the bed she shared with her husband, I need to be with her. I need to wrap my body around hers and reassure myself she’s okay.
But she just stares out the window and doesn’t say anything.
By the time we reach her house, I’m halfway to a caveman meltdown. Along the way, we discussed superficial things like Wrath’s recovery. How long he’ll have to wear a cast. If he’s really going to be able to sit still for sixteen weeks. She knows a good physical therapist and is going to get me the name. Shit like that.
Nothing about us.
As soon as I pull into the driveway, my phone goes off. Hope sighs and waits for me to take the call. Z has tracked down the two fuckers from last night. My blood goes from simmer to boil in a second.
“I’ll be there in half an hour.”
I turn and search Hope’s eyes but don’t see what I’m looking for or what I expect. No love. Not even fear. She’s resigned. She’s slipping out of my grasp even though she’s a mere five inches away.
She leans over and puts her palm against my cheek. Her soft lips press against mine, not nearly long enough.
“Be careful,” she whispers.
She lets herself out and stares at me through the open window. Fuck, it’s killing me to leave her now. But I don’t have a choice.
“Get some rest, I’ll call you later.”
She nods once, turns, and goes in the house.
This is so fucked.