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“This one.” I point to Bryce. “Tried to run us over. The other one used my head for batting practice.”
Am I slurring my words?
Dex bends over and picks up my ball-peen hammer. “Little hammer,” he points the end of it at Heidi, “What are we going to do with you?”
Remy and Griff stare at Heidi.
“I need to have you hang out with Molly more.” Remy shakes his head. “You sure know how to nail a bad guy.”
Griff leaves and returns a few minutes later driving a large all-terrain vehicle with a dump bed. “Let’s get these fuckers somewhere secure before more people come out.”
Dex and Remy help him load them up.
“We have a place.” Griff slaps my shoulder. “Take her home. I’ll text you the info.”
Dex swings his gaze back and forth. “Stay with them, brother,” I say in a low voice.
“I don’t think you should ride alone.”
“I’ll be fine.” As Road Captain, I didn’t have a lot of authority over the general members unless we were on a club run. As VP, it’ll be a different story. “Go.”
Still looking unsure, he gets on his bike and follows the ATV.
“Fuck my head hurts.” I rummage through one of the saddle bags, positive I have some Advil stashed in there somewhere.
“You need to go to the hospital.” Heidi tugs on my arm. “You passed out for a few seconds when you hit the ground.”
Did I?
“My head’s harder than that fucking bat. I need to get you home then come back and deal with this.”
“Like hell.”
I swipe my fingers over the goose egg already forming on the back of my head. The bleeding seems to have stopped. That probably won’t reassure Heidi so I don’t mention it. “I’ll put some ice on it when we get home.”
“Blake, seriously, do you think you should ride like this?”
“I’m fine.”
She steps closer and brushes the back of her hand against my cheek. “You’re really pale.”
“I’m part Irish, I’m always pale.”
“That’s not funny. I’m serious.”
I close my eyes for a second, briefly swaying on my feet. “I need some Advil, ice, and to get you home.”
Still looking unconvinced, Heidi climbs on behind me.
The ride seems to take double the amount of time. I glance down and realize I’m barely doing thirty. At this rate we’ll never get home.
Heidi clings tight to me and I swear her warmth and touch keep me anchored to here and now.
I blink.
The bike swerves, waking me back up.
I’m not going to make it.
Thank fuck the roads are mostly clear at this hour.
We’re in the last stretch before the turn off for the clubhouse when I swerve again. The bike shudders.
“Blake!”
“I’m okay!” I shout. At least I think the words came out of my mouth.
My brain to motor function wiring feels a bit off.
Teller’s mailbox with the insane iron rooster squatting on top of it—a gift from Rooster—somehow catches my eye in the dark.
I flip on my blinker and hang a wide left into the driveway, slowing almost to a crawl.
“Blake!”
Heidi clings to me tighter.
Did the bike stop moving?
Instinct has me putting down my feet and toeing the kickstand.
Everything goes black.
Thirty-Eight
Heidi
That was the most terrifying ride of my life.
“Marcel!” I scream.
Blake slumps over the handlebars.
“Blake!” I shake him. “Please wake up.”
With trembling fingers, I search his neck for a pulse. It’s steady and strong. My fingers slip through a thick pool of blood around his collar, though.
“Oh my God.” I pull my hand back, staring in horror.
I scoot off the bike. We’re still a ways from my brother’s house. I hate leaving Blake but we need help.
Sprinting down the driveway, I yank out my phone and dial my brother.
“Help! I’m outside,” I shout into the phone, not even sure if my brother picked up or not.
I keep running. Pumping my legs as fast as I can, praying I don’t twist an ankle over the uneven path.
Every light in the house is blazing when it finally comes into view. Marcel throws open the front door and thunders onto the porch with a shotgun in his hands.
Charlotte follows behind him, carrying a rifle.
“Where’s Blake?” Marcel asks.
Helplessly, I point down the road. “He passed out. Someone hit him in the head. He wouldn’t go to the hospital.” I spit out fragments of our night in between trying to catch my breath and calm my racing heart.
The tears will come later.
“Where?” My brother’s already sprinting down the driveway, and I chase after him.
“Blake?” Marcel screams as soon as he sees him. “Heidi, what happened?”
“Some guys. Hit him in the head. A bat. He got up after. Said his head hurt. He wanted to get home.”
“He let you ride—”
“Shut up and help us!” I’m not in the mood for my brother to start bitching about how I shouldn’t have ridden with Murphy in his condition.
“We have to get him to the hospital.”
“No shit, Marcel.”
Bright headlights momentarily blind us and the roar of an engine has me stumbling to get out of the way.
Charlotte skids to a stop next to us in her truck. Thankfully, it’s not lifted like my brother’s, so it’ll be easier to get Murphy inside.
Carter jumps out of the passenger side. “Oh, shit.”
“Murphy!” Charlotte yells. “Oh my God.” She races around the front of the truck, slipping on the gravel and catching herself on the fender.
“Should we call an ambulance?” My trembling voice can barely be heard above all the other noises.
“No time. Help me lift him, Carter,” Marcel barks out.
“Please,” I sob, not sure what I’m begging for really.
With care and a gentleness that would surprise most people, my brother slips his arms under Murphy’s and pulls him off the bike, while Carter keeps the bike steady, so it doesn’t tip over. The whole process is awkward and seems to take forever.
“You hefty, motherfucker,” Marcel grumbles. “You have some nerve complaining about me weighing a ton.”
Once Murphy’s off the bike, Carter runs to the other side and grabs Murphy’s legs. “I got him.”
Together, they drag-carry him to the truck. Marcel pauses and eyes the truck bed for a second.
“Don’t you dare,” I warn. “He has a head injury.”
Charlotte climbs into the backseat and helps the guys maneuver Blake inside. “I’ll stay back here with him,” Charlotte gestures to me. “Get in the front with your brother. Hurry.”
Even though I’d rather be with Blake, I’m not about to waste a precious second arguing. Marcel holds the door open, and
I jump inside.
“I’ll go lock everything up and call Rock,” Carter shouts as he jogs back to the house.
Marcel tears out of the driveway, hitting the old country road with a hard bump and fishtail to the left.
“Easy,” Charlotte says. “Let’s get him there in one piece.”
“Is he breathing?” Marcel shouts.
“Yes.”
The drive into downtown Empire has never felt so long.
Thirty-Nine
Heidi
The hospital is horror-movie-right-before-the-killer-shows-up quiet at this hour.
They rushed Blake inside as soon as we arrived.
I refuse to take a seat. Instead, I pace in the waiting room. Occasionally, sounds drift in—beeping, hushed conversations, distant shouting, a siren wailing in the distance.
Someone comes in and informs us that they had to take Blake into surgery.
I’ve spent too much time in hospitals over the years. Members of the club injured in different accidents. My grandmother after her heart attack. My brother after his accident was probably the worst until tonight.
It never gets any easier, and I never hate the cold, sterile environment any less. Weird, since I want to work in the medical field. But I can separate the collecting-a-paycheck aspect of a hospital from the waiting-for-information-about-a-loved-one.
The doctors gave me all of Blake’s belongings. We’d left his cut in the truck, knowing he’d never forgive us if the doctors sliced it up by accident, but his wallet, phone, and rings are all stuffed into my hoodie pocket.
His phone buzzes.
Griff - Get H home ‘k?
Me: At the hospital with M. - H.
Murphy shouldn’t be here. He’s too young. Too full of life. And I need him too much.
We’re supposed to be getting married in a few days.
“Heidi, you need to go home.” My brother’s raspy voice intrudes on my inner worrying.
“No.”
“Heidi,” he pleads.
He takes my hand, and I wince.
“What happened?” he asks.
I glance down at my wrist expecting it to be bruised or bleeding, considering how much it hurts. My hands are filthy, and there’s a dark stain on my palm. Rusty smears on my fingers. I glance around the room. “I whacked one of the guys who attacked us with Murphy’s hammer.” I flex my fingers. “Hurts like a bitch.”
