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“Please baby, please..."
I press down hard to stop the bleeding as I scramble with my other hand for my phone, dropping it twice as my hand shakes before I press it to my ear.
“Sniper.”
He sighs in relief, his voice sounding far away, telling me he’s on hands-free with his helmet. “I’m here, brother. We all are; we have your GPS; we’ll be there in ten.”
A sob wants to come out, but I hold it in as I rasp, “Sarah’s been shot.”
I hear several takes of breath as Doc’s voice comes through: "Where, brother?”
I shake my head, a few tears falling as my girl struggles to breathe, “In her chest near the middle,” I take a deep breath, “she’s-she’s pregnant brother, twelve weeks.”
Several ‘fucks’ echo through the speakers, and the bikes rev, indicating they’ve sped up.
“We’re nearly there, brother; keep pressure on the wound. Is she conscious?”
I swallow hard, "No, she’s struggling to breathe, brother.”
“Fuck,” he mumbles, and my heart stops. I can’t lose her; I fucking can’t.
“Come on, Spitfire, stay with me,” I rasp as I place my lips on her sweating forehead. "She's a clammy brother.”
He curses again as I look around the garage. I know I need to act like a president right now, not a man watching the love of his life and his unborn child before him.
I clear my throat, “We need a clean-up crew. Helena had a gun aimed at my girl when I came through the garage door. The bitch is dead.” The brothers growl as their revs get louder before the building shakes.
I drop my phone and cup my girl’s cheek. Her lashes flutter, but she doesn’t wake, “You’ve got to fight, baby, not just for you, not just for me; fight for our baby; fight for our family, Spitfire, please.”
I lean down and kiss her lips gently as the brothers rush in. They take in the scene as Doc rushes to me and Smokey takes over as his role of VP: “Right Liam, Pitbull, and David, grab the body and wrap it up in tarp and shove her into the fucking van; we’ll burn the bitch back at the club. Breaker, Tats, start fucking bleaching the place. Sniper, connect our girl’s truck up, and I’ll tow it to our garage so you can follow Snake to the hospital; maybe we can tell her the truck blew up and Pres can give her the Mustang back. Tech, clear the fucking footage; erase everything.” The brothers all nod as Smokey rushes toward me. Doc takes over pressure as Smokey pulls me back, holding one arm around my shoulders from behind and rasping, “Let him stabilize her brother,” as I try to fight before my dad rushes inside the garage.
His eyes widen seeing my girl, “The SUV is outside; stabilize her and lets fucking go; we will not lose my future daughter-in-law.”
My hands shake as I wipe my cheeks and nose with the back of them, trying not to get blood everywhere as I watch Doc pack the wound.
"ALRIGHT, LET’S GO.” He shouts only moments later before he gently lifts her. We all move in a rush as I throw my bike keys to my dad and climb in the back of the SUV with my girl’s head on my lap as David climbs in the front. Doc rushes to his bike and goes a head ready to grab a team.
I clutch my girl’s hand, hoping and praying I don’t lose her, pressing my lips to her forehead.
It takes only ten minutes to get to the hospital before a crew is moving her onto a gurney. I rush and follow before hitting the ‘do not enter’ sign. Doc grabs my cut, his eyes showing determination.
“I won’t let you lose your girl, brother.”
I give him a nod, my heart breaking. “Whatever you have to do, Doc, save my fucking girl. We can make another baby; we can’t fucking make another her; save her, please.”
He presses his forehead against mine, breathing heavily, before he nods and rushes after my girl, my father, and my blood brother, both gripping my shoulders.
“Come on, son, let’s get you into the waiting room. I’ve called her parents; they’re on their way.”
I nod, my heart breaking even more because they’ve just lost one daughter, and now, because of me, they could lose another.
My father guides me into the waiting room, and after fifteen minutes, it's full of brothers, Sarah's parents, and friends who run over to me, where I’m sitting against the wall, my legs up, my arms hanging over them, and my head down as I try to control my breathing.
“Snake?”
Gerry questions, and everyone quiets. Sarah’s best friend Amy is inconsolable in her husband's arms, whose cheeks are wet with his own tears, while my mother cries silently and I slowly lift my head. His eyes widen seeing the blood on me and the tears that soak my cheeks before I rasp.
“Helena. She had a gun pointed at Sarah when I went into the garage. As soon as she turned the gun on me, Sarah,” I shake my head, “my silly, silly fucking girl, tackled her to the ground to save me. Helena had clocked the gun, ready to shoot. In the tackle, she-she fucking shot my girl in the chest.”
