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He’s right, except I have an inkling the Lost Kings are into other things. Okay, more than an inkling. The illegal underground fighting and betting for one. Crap, I was a spectator at Wrath’s fight, so that makes me an accessory or something. I’m pretty sure Rock and Z murdered or at least attempted to murder the guys who ran us off the road. Although it’s probably a gray area, I don’t think I’m obligated to disclose those things to anyone. Rock told me about those guys after he’d already taken care of it, so I couldn’t report that to anyone.
I feel a little more optimistic about my chances.
“Thanks, buddy. It helped to talk this out.”
A sharp stabbing pain rushes through my side. Ouch. Just what I need. Cramps and my period tomorrow when I have to deal with this interview. My cycle has been weird since getting on the birth control shot.
Heat curls in my belly at the thought of Rock. Shame for how I lashed out at him isn’t far behind.
“You okay, Hope?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re welcome to hang out here if you want and do some research to prepare.”
Actually, I want to pop four Advil and crawl into bed with my heating pad, but he’s right. I need to prepare myself.
I take my time gathering enough cases and information to draft a brief but—in my opinion—eloquent statement.
When I get home, I collapse into tears. Rock hasn’t called. He hasn’t even sent me a text. I’m terrified that I fucked things up beyond repair. And for what? A career I’m pretty sure I don’t even want anymore.
I recognize one of the three old white men who make up the grievance committee. He’s a judge I’ve been in front of numerous times, and he smiles at me as I take my seat. Smoothing my skirt over my thighs, I curse the room for being so hot.
A bead of sweat rolls down my spine, and I shift. I’m so nervous my abdomen won’t stop cramping, and I’m barely able to keep my breakfast down.
“Ms. Kendall, we realize it’s unusual to call you in first, but since the allegations were so abnormal, we thought we should just get to it,” old white man number one says.
One after another, they pepper me with questions. Trying to trip me up. I want to throw the statement I prepared yesterday at them and say, “There, read that!” but I maintain my composure and answer their questions the best I can.
In the end, I know nothing, so that’s what I tell them. I represented Elias Serrano in a custody matter. Rochlan North in a misdemeanor possession charge. And Winter Curtis before the support magistrate. Mr. North runs a motorcycle club, but I don’t know a lot about it. Mr. Serrano works for Mr. North. And Ms. Curtis and Mr. Serrano are dating. Anything other than that is privileged information that I won’t disclose. As for ongoing criminal cover-up, I work my best innocent you-can’t-be-serious expression.
When I’m done, my bangs are plastered to my sweaty forehead. Great. All this sweating probably spells guilty to them.
Judge Gibson smiles at me warmly and turns to old white man numbers one and two. “I think we can agree this complaint is nonsense. There really is no reason to investigate this further.”
Surprisingly, they agree.
I’m free.
As I step into the hallway, I dig my cell phone out of my purse and send Rock a text.
I’m sorry.
Simple, direct, and honest.
While I’m waiting for the elevator, I wobble a bit. The whole time I was in the meeting, I couldn’t stop sweating. Now I’m freezing but still sweaty.
I sway as I step into the elevator and press C for concourse. The motion of the creaky old box rocks my stomach. A few deep, cleansing breaths later, I burst out of the elevator.
Rock is standing directly across on the other side of the metal detectors everyone has to go through before they go upstairs. His head is down while he checks his cell phone. From here, I see a smile cross his face. The ding of the elevator catches his attention, and he tips up his head.
His happy expression morphs into panic as he strides over. “Hope, are you okay?”
I’m too embarrassed to tell him it’s a combination of nerves and my period, so I fake a smile. “What are you doing here?”
“I didn’t want you going through this alone.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder at the security guard. “They wouldn’t let me upstairs.”
My breathing falters. My vision swims.
“Baby, you don’t look very good.” He takes me into his arms. “Honey, you’re awfully cold.”
Blinding agony burns through my left side, and I’m suddenly painfully uncomfortable down there.
A veil of red blurs my vision.
Blackness swirls over my eyes.
Then I’m lost.
The second I see Hope, I know something’s wrong. Her normally pale, creamy skin is almost waxy. Rushing to her, I see she’s sweat-soaked.
What did those assholes do to her up there?
I know she must have been scared, but her reaction seems awfully extreme. Even for her.
“Hope, are you okay?”
Her lips tremble. “What are you doing here?”
“I didn’t want you going through this alone.”
The whole time we’re talking, all I can think about is how much I fucking love her. Her sweet, simple “I’m sorry” text really got to me. I was about to send her one of my own when she appeared looking like death warmed over.
“Baby, you don’t look very good.” She seems close to hitting the floor, so I wrap my arms around her. Touching her cheek scares the shit out of me. “Honey, you’re freezing.”
Next thing I know, she collapses in my arms.
The pudgy security guard who gave me shit when I tried to go upstairs rushes over. “Sir, what happened?”
“I don’t know. She fainted.”
I’m crouching on the floor, holding her in my arms. She’s breathing, but it’s shallow. I tap her cheek. “Hope, baby?”
Nothing.
A state trooper comes over to help just as I realize something wet is seeping into my jeans.
Jesus Christ. She’s bleeding!
What the fuck?
“Call an ambulance,” I roar.
The trooper kneels down and checks her pulse. He sees the blood on my hands and shifts into action. “Sir, an ambulance will take forever. Empire Medical is right up the road. I’ll drive you, lights and sirens. We’ll get there much faster.”
I stand, keeping her body cradled against me as he leads the way out. I don’t see anything except the officer’s back as I follow him.
At the car, he tries to take Hope from me, and I snap at him. “I’ve got her.”
Getting us both in the backseat isn’t easy, but I tuck her up against me. Brushing her hair off her cheek, I press a kiss to her forehead. “Baby, please wake up. You’re scaring the shit out of me.”
“Sir, is she breathing?”
“Yes. But it’s shallow. Her pulse is weak.”
I hold her, speaking nonsense to her the whole way, dangerously close to losing my shit by the time we pull up to the emergency room doors.
“Stay here, sir. I’ll get them to bring out a gurney.”
It takes way too fucking long for the medical team to rush out. Hope’s taken from my arms. When the staff sees the blood on me, they start barking questions. Somewhere in the middle of answering their endless interrogation, I’m aware of the officer handing me Hope’s purse and a nurse pushing me inside while she drums more information out of me.
I stumble and lean against the admissions desk.
The little pit bull of a nurse is right in my face. “Is she pregnant?”
“What? No. I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“Are you her husband?”
“Boyfriend.” Fuck, I hate that useless word.
“Is she on birth control?”
“I think so.”
Her lip curls with disdain, and I’m swamped with regret. I’m always in such a hurry to stick my damn
dick in her. I never asked her what the—
“Sir, does she have any family we can call?”
I’m her fucking family.
“Uh, her mother,” I answer stupidly.
She ushers me into a private waiting room. I don’t know what the fuck to do. I want to throw shit and rip the fucking place apart.
Instead, I sit my ass in a flimsy plastic chair and tap out a message to Z.
At Empire Med with Hope. Bad.
My phone pings back almost immediately.
Be there in 20.
Z and Wrath are there in fifteen.
“Brother, what the fuck?” Z asks when he sees me.
“I don’t know. They haven’t fucking told me anything yet.”
Wrath sits next to me and puts his hand on my back. “What happened?”
I tell him about meeting up with her, how sick she looked, and her fainting.
“Uh, we thought she like got shot or something,” Z points out.
I turn my hands over, seeing the blood. “No.”
“Aw fuck, man,” Z says.
There’s a sink in the corner of the room, and I stumble over to clean my hands the best I can.
“Mr. North?”
I whip around. “Is she okay?”
Not liking the grave expression on her face, I storm over. “Is she okay?” I ask a lot louder this time.
She glances at Wrath and Z, then pulls me into the corner. “We think it’s an ectopic pregnancy. She’s bleeding heavily, indicating her tube has ruptured. We’re prepping her for emergency surgery now.”
My throat constricts. “She’s pregnant?” I manage to choke out.
She puts a hand on my shoulder and gives me a sad look. “I’m sorry. A tubal ectopic pregnancy like this never survives.”
“Emergency surgery? Is she…?” I can’t even say it.
“It’s a life-saving operation. I’ll come back when I have more information for you.”
I fall heavily into the chair next to Wrath. What the fuck did I do to her? I remember back to the morning in Sophie’s shower when Hope told me she had trouble taking the pill. Then the night of my birthday when she said we could skip the condoms. I never thought about it again.
Selfish fucking asshole.
A baby. She’s pregnant. Hope carrying my child.
No, was pregnant. Was it…? I can’t. I can’t even think about it. I just need my girl to make it through this.
Wrath puts his hand on my shoulder. “She’s a little spitfire. She’ll be back to busting your balls in no time, brother.”
After that, my brothers are quiet, but they stay with me while I wait.
Trinity comes in an hour later. After a quiet hug, she pushes a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt into my hands. Shuffling into the bathroom, I change quick, stuffing my stained clothes in the garbage. I hurry out, but no one has come to give me an update. I should call her mother. Digging out her cell phone, I scroll through her contacts until I find one labeled Mother. The phone rings twice before someone picks up.
“Um, Mrs.—”
Fuck, I don’t know what her mother’s married name is.
“This is Rochlan. I’m a friend of your daughter’s, Mrs. Kendall.”
“Knight,” she corrects.
What-the-fuck-ever. “Listen, Hope’s in the hospital. She’s having emergency surgery.”
I give her the scant details I know and feel like an absolute fucking asshole the entire time. When I tell her we’re at Empire Med, she makes a clucking sound. “Okay. Well, call me back tomorrow and let me know how she’s doing.”
“Ma’am? You’re not going to come down and see her?”
“What for? You said she’s in surgery. It’s an hour drive.”
I swallow down my rage and hang up.
Looking at my brothers, I shake my head. I can’t speak. I’m dangerously close to tears. What kind of mother doesn’t care if her daughter is in the hospital and might die? I know how shitty I am with words. Did I not explain it right?
The nurse returns, and I jump up. “Is she okay?”
“There were some complications. Sir, do you know if she has a health care proxy?”
“What?”
She explains what that is, and my entire body numbs. “She’s a lawyer, so probably. I don’t know,” I manage to mumble.
“See if you can find out. I’ll be back in a bit.”
Swiping at my damp cheeks, I realize I’m fucking crying.
Scrolling through her phone again, I find Sophie’s number.
“What’s up, buttercup?” she answers.
“Sophie, it’s Rock.”
“Oh. Hi. What’s wrong? Is Hope okay?”
“No. She’s in the hospital. They’re asking me if she has a health care proxy, Sophie. I don’t know. I thought you might.”
She lets out a string of curses. “Yes. We all did them after law school. I have no idea if she updated it after Clay died. I was the second person, though. Fuck. I’m down in fucking Delaware, Rock. It’s going to take me a little while to get there. Call Adam. He might know. I’m going to check out of my hotel and drive straight there. I’m leaving right now.”
We say our good-byes. No matter my irritation with Sophie, I’m so grateful Hope has at least one other person who cares about her. I manage to get ahold of Adam, but he’s not much help. He’s got no idea about the health care proxy but says he’ll be at the hospital right after court.
While I’m holding Hope’s phone, her text chain to Sophie pops on the screen. Remembering the awful fight we had about me messing with her phone, I hesitate. But I can’t stop scrolling through their messages because they’re full of Hope’s snarky wit that I love so fucking much. Under the circumstances, I think Hope will forgive the intrusion. Right now, I need to feel close to my girl in some small way.
Looks as if they go back and forth all day. Sophie’s lewd as a devil. Hope’s comments are more reserved, but she definitely pays me a few compliments here and there that make me smile.
Please let my girl be okay.
One text catches my attention. From yesterday morning.
I fucked up so bad, Sophie.
???
I said something horrible to R I didn’t mean.
A good fuck fixes everything.
I snort at that, not surprised that’s Sophie’s solution to everything.
Not this time.
They must have talked right after, because there’s only one more message. It’s from Sophie this morning.
Good luck. Give that committee a kick in the balls from me.
Wrath props up his cast and sprawls out as much as his big body and the tiny hospital waiting room chairs allow.
An hour later, Lilly shows up. Z snaps to attention when he sees her, but she doesn’t notice him at first. She places one hand on my shoulder. “Any news?”
“No, she’s still in surgery.”
She nods and sits to wait with us. Trinity brings me coffee. She and Lilly talk softly to each other. Z watches both of them like a hawk. I’d laugh my ass off if I wasn’t so torn up. I can’t wait to tell Hope about this little soap opera.
Please let me be able to tell her this.
A couple hours later, Sophie rushes into the room. She glances at the guys and approaches me slowly. Her touch is light on my shoulder as she gives me a gentle squeeze. “Any news?”
“Not in a while.”
Wrath’s busy glaring at her so hard I don’t bother introducing them. Never should have confided in him about Sophie’s drunken attempt to get me in the sack. After I fill her in, she wanders over to talk to Lilly and Trinity.
“Mr. North?”
It’s a doctor this time, and I steel myself before getting up.
“She’s doing well,” he says right away.
All the air I’d been holding in comes rushing out of my lungs.
Sophie joins me, explaining to the doctor that she’s Hope’s health care proxy. He nods.
; “She came through surgery okay. We had to—” He looks around the room and lowers his voice. “Her fallopian tube ruptured. We had to remove part of it along with the pregnancy.” Next to me, Sophie gasps. “It was done laparoscopically so her recovery time won’t be as long.”
“Thank you,” I manage.
“Did she complain of any pain, or did you notice anything unusual?” the doctor asks.
I shake my head. I don’t want to discuss the fight we had in front of Sophie.
The doctor shrugs. “She would have been feeling bad for a couple days. Probably in a lot of pain today,” he explains, making me feel a thousand times worse. Thinking my girl was suffering while I was off taking a joyride and whining like a little bitch because she insulted my club? That shit is hard to handle.
The doctor’s gaze darts between Sophie and me, finally landing on me. “Will you be helping her once she’s released?”
I don’t even have to think about that. “Yes, she’ll come home with me. I’ll take care of her.”
He nods. “We’ll discuss care instructions when she’s awake. She’s still out now, but one of you can go in and see her if you want.”
“You go,” Sophie urges.
I follow him to her room and want to cry when I see her. Rushing to her side, I’m shocked at how small and fragile she looks surrounded by all the medical stuff.
“Baby doll,” I choke out. I glance up at the doctor. “Can I hold her hand?” I’m so afraid I’ll do something else to hurt her.
His mouth turns up slightly. “Yes.”
I barely notice the door snick shut.
Taking her hand between mine, I bring it to my lips. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. So fucking sorry for storming out the other night and not calling you. I’m so sorry this happened, because I know it’s my fault. Please be okay, baby doll. I haven’t had nearly enough time to love you yet.”
A nurse comes in, watching me for a minute. “Sir, she’s going to be out for a few more hours. You can go home and get some rest.”
Nailing him with the hardest biker stare I can muster, I inform him in no uncertain terms, “No. I need to be here when she wakes up.”
