“Yeah, all right, I get you. Just settle down.” The guy’s starting to sound like his predecessor, Apex.
The line goes dead with a click, and I draw in a few calming breaths. One, I probably shouldn’t have told King to settle down, and two, what the fuck, Ryan? Guess the woman had a change of heart after ushering me out of the house with a gun. Figures . . . women. I pocket my phone and rub a hand over my face, mentally wiping away any traces of guilt I might have had. Now’s not the time to be giving it all away—I’ve already said more than enough to Ryan. Evidently.
“How’s it going?” I ask, walking through the back door of the practice to where I left Gunter sitting. I should have headed straight to a motel, found somewhere to stay the night, but I knew there’d be no rest if I didn’t check in on Tommy first. The kid’s kind of hard to forget about when his blood is still under my nails and embedded in the creases of my skin. Plus, I still had a small problem of a pellet that needed removing.
“Doc thinks he might pull through. Can’t be a hundred until tomorrow, though.”
“I need to keep goin’. Send me a message when you get him home. Let me know how it goes, yeah?”
The big guy nods, assessing me. “Who was that you were talking to? Eddie?”
I shake my head. “Old girlfriend. In a spot of trouble and needs a hand gettin’ home.” At least it was only partially a lie.
Gunter nods again, tapping the heel of his boot on the linoleum floor. “You did a good thing tonight.”
“He’s a good kid.”
“He is.” The skinhead fiddles with the buckles on his suspenders where they hang slack at his hips. “Never was cut out for this shit.”
The doc shows his face around a doorframe, and tips his head toward the room behind him. “He’s stable, for now. We’ll let him rest for a bit, make sure he doesn’t go downhill again before you take him home.”
Gunter nods and looks over to me as he stands. “You want to come see him?”
I shake my head and step toward the door. “Nah, man. You two have some time alone. I need to hit the road.” I hesitate a second before heading for the front door to where my bike’s parked. My nature is to give somebody comfort, pat them on the shoulder or the like, but with Gunter I can’t quite bring myself to do it. He’s a guy in pain, unsure if his brother’s going to survive the night, but he’s still a narrow-minded Nazi. There’s only so much sympathy I can spare the guy.
Being so late, the roads are relatively clear, and I make the trip to Lincoln in good time, thanks to riding a few extra miles over the limit. Bringing my Kawasaki to an idle, I roll past Ryan’s car parked out on the road and coast the last few yards to the gate to find Dog and one of the other prospects standing in front of the gate. Dog lifts his head to acknowledge me as I come to a stop before them, my headlight illuminating Ryan in their custody as she stands and then just as quickly sags into the gate in defeat.
She’s obviously unsure if it’s right to approach me, and in all truth, she’s not half wrong. I’m pretty fucking pissed at the bitch, almost as much as I’m relieved she’s come to her senses.
“Take it she’s right?” Dog calls out. “You know who she is?”
I lock my gaze on her as she stands behind him, flanked by the younger prospect. Her eyes are downcast, her hands fidgeting wildly with the hem of her shirt. “Yeah, I know who she is.”
“Said she wanted to talk to Pres. Pretty fuckin’ bold request.”
Fucking suicidal with some clubs. She’s lucky she’s standing on King’s doorstep. A few other chapters wouldn’t be quite so kind to a woman demanding a word with the boss and then refusing to leave.
The prospect signals for the gate to be opened, and Ryan jumps when it starts rolling on its tracks. I ride past the three of them, taking my bike to the overhang I park under when I visit. By the time I dismount and remove my helmet, the three of them are halfway across the yard to the clubhouse.
Dog and the prospect continue past me, leaving Ryan to straggle behind. She stops before me, and now that she’s up close I can see that her eye makeup has run and she’s smeared most of it off—all except for a line that runs from the outer corner of one eye to her temple. I reach out, and she stiffens, yet allows me to rub it off with the pad of my thumb.
“There,” I say, pulling back to admire my handiwork. “You look less like a crazy fuckin’ clown, and more like a girl who chose not to wear much makeup.”
She rolls her eyes, and I get rewarded with a small smile. “Way to make a girl feel special.”
“Darlin’, the fact you’re standin’ here and they didn’t shoot you for trespassin’ says you’re special.”
Her gaze darts over my shoulder. “I knew the young guy wouldn’t have done it; he doesn’t look like he’d hurt a fly. But the other one, I didn’t really trust him when he said we’d be waiting out front for you to show up. Half expected him to take me for a long walk off a short pier.”
“You’re safe with him; they haven’t got to that part of his initiation yet.” Her eyes go wide, and I let loose a chuckle, coaxing her on toward the clubhouse with a hand to her back. “Dog’s harmless. Does an all right job of looking tough, but he’s good fun.”
“To you, maybe.” She gives Dog a nod of thanks as we pass him holding the door open. “Are they all like these two?”
“You’re about to find out.” I might have laughed at her apprehension, found it cute, but even from where we stood in the entrance hall I could feel the wrath of King.
Shit’s about to get ugly.
“Just stick close, yeah?” I shunt her into my side with a well-placed hand to the hip. “Not everyone is so friendly with outsiders.”
As though to prove my point, two of the regular club sluts emerge from the backyard. One pulls her under-sized top down over her plastic rack, while the other gives Ryan a look that could melt rock as she opens her mouth. “Back for more, Bronx?”
I flash her a bored glance and continue towards King’s office, turning to ask Dog, “He’s in there?”
“Yeah,” he answers, snagging Plastic Tits about the waist. “He’s expectin’ you.”
“Are we in a biker clubhouse or a brothel?” Ryan murmurs beside me.
I pull her to a stop as we reach King’s closed door, and lean down to whisper in her face. “You want help from these guys—which I assume is why you risked your ass showin’ up here—then you best be actin’ like a good woman should, and speak when spoken to. Okay?”
She cocks her eyebrow. “A good woman?”
“Yeah,” I challenge. “A good woman. The kind of woman who knows how to keep herself out of trouble with people like this.”
She nods, her lips tightly twisted to one side. So what if she ain’t happy about it? As long as she shuts the hell up and listens to what King has to say, we’ll be fine . . . I think.
I knock on the pres’s door and open it up a fraction, poking my head inside. A bottle whistles past my ear and smashes on the wall beside me, showering me in tiny fragments while I turn my head to avoid getting glass in my eyes. “Fuck, man!”
King places a hand on the top of his desk and launches himself over it, marching toward where I’m shielding Ryan with my body. His tattooed arm snakes out, grasping me by the front of my shirt, and hauling me into the room as I try to break his hold with the back of my forearm. “Excuse us a minute, sweetheart.” He slams the door in Ryan’s face and shoves me roughly into the seat before his desk. “What the ever-loving fuck have you done, asshole? Why does she—one of Eddie’s bitches—know you’re affiliated with us? I warned you what would happen if you started thinkin’ with your dick, boy. You ready for this?” He starts rolling the already un-cuffed flannel shirt further up his arms.
“Are you goin’ to hear me out?” I ask, pushing out of the chair and standing toe-to-toe with the guy. “Ever crossed your pussy-starved mind I might have a reason?”