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Then I feel the wind knocked from me. A burning blaze of pain. I barely have the breath to shout as I fall to the floor. Everything goes fuzzy. It’s too late.
In and out. In and out. In and out.
Small bits of the world flashes back and forth into my brain. Every now and then, a jolt of fresh fucking pain spreads through my body. It feels like my lungs are cannibalizing themselves and there’s just not enough strength to breathe before everything goes black again, sending me into unconsciousness before it starts again.
In and out.
“…almost there, bro. Hang on…”
Snippets of conversation.
Phone static.
Blinding white lights.
I smell medicine. Or some kind of alcohol. There’s something bad about that…something I can’t put my finger on yet. There are hands all over me. A lot of hands. Crisp night air rushing across my chilled skin like jumping in a river in the middle of winter on a dare. My teeth rattle in my head.
“Lay him out here…”
“Fuck, is he…”
“Quick…we need to be quick with this bullet wound.”
“No! Don’t. The bullet’s still in there. It wasn’t a through and through…”
“Fuck…”
Out again.
Chapter 26
Molly
“Do you have everything you need?”
I glance at Silas with hot tears pushing past my lashes as I try to calm the rush of thoughts.
“A hospital and a surgeon,” I answer, but I know that’s not happening.
“Yeah, not gonna happen.”
I understand how these men think and I know how hospitals operate. These bikers don’t want to be cornered by the authorities to answer questions. Simple as that.
Thank God for Silas. He phoned me minutes after Tate was shot. I stole my mother’s keycard to the hospital’s supply room. I’ve been waiting at the clubhouse, trying to create a sterile environment. The bullet or a fragment of it is lodged somewhere near the base of his ribs. If we don’t get it out, God knows how much damage it can do down the road if it ever dislodges. I can’t leave it in there.
“Whatever we have now, it’s going to have to do. We don’t have time to find anything else.”
Not even a doctor.
The MC actually does have a legitimate doctor who does favors for them of the medical variety. It’s no surprise to me that they all call him ‘Mob Doc,’ but the man lives all the way in Las Vegas. He’ll never make it in time.
“He’s ready when you are,” Silas announces.
I nod. “I’ll do my best.”
Silas is pale and covered in his brother’s blood. I have to do this right the first time around. There’s no room for error. I squeeze my hands together to stop the shaking and take a deep breath.
Silas takes a big step back. “If you need me I’ll be outside. I can’t watch this shit.”
A battle-hardened criminal can’t watch me cut into my baby daddy’s chest cavity.
“It’s okay. I’ll call out when it’s done. No one enters until it’s over,” I remind him, but doubt it’ll be a problem. These go weak in the knees at the sight of a surgical procedure. I snap on two pairs of gloves, meet Silas’s wide gaze, swallow, and turn back to the temporary operation table—the pool table. He passes through all the plastic we hung in thick sheets until it looked like a cross between a serial killer’s torcher room and a meat locker.
My stomach dips into my shoes. My hands go into fists as I survey the injury from this distance, then I close my eyes. We’ve come so far, I’m not about to accept this as Tate’s fate. My child deserves to know his father, and I’m the only one who can make that happen for both of us. Tate is face up, shirtless, and groaning, even though I doubt he’s actually conscious. It’s easier to think he’s unconscious. If he were awake, what I’m going to do to him will really, really hurt.
I press my lips together.
No time like the present.
Picking up the iodine, I trace his chest with my finger, making one quick swipe around the injured area. It had to be one hell of a shot, to have a bullet move diagonally through a fifth of Tate’s lower chest and not see a full exit wound. My best guess is that the bullet is lodged in a rib. The injury needs to be opened, then cleaned and sewn up fast. But I have to get that bullet out first. There’s so much blood. He’s running out of time.
