Page 10 of Hostile Saint

Oh God!

“Lace!” My eyes flew open and I actually tried to sit up, feeling instant pain shooting through my whole body.

“Not happening, Nine Lives,” warned VP as he rose from a chair.

The bright white walls glowed and blurred as my head spun. There was a collection of smaller white sheets, strategically placed to cover my body. I guess Doc wasn’t used to treating humans and only had animal-sized blankets.

Putting pressure against my shoulders to keep me down, VP complained, “Damn, you’re a stubborn bastard. No wonder Prez is thinkin’ about vouchin’ for ya.”

Prez? Vouching for what?

VP and Prez were vague nicknames, but I didn’t need to be a straight-A student on the Dean’s List to figure out what they stood for: Vice President and President. The patched leather vests, boots, and blue jeans made it clear they were part of a motorcycle gang.

A pair of those heavy biker boots entered the room. “Kid, chill the fuck out. I ain’t payin’ to patch you up twice.” Still feeling a little woozy, and hearing ‘Prez’ loud and clear, I let my head sink back onto the table. I must have groaned because he laughed. “Yeah, you currently resemble swiss cheese.”

They had to understand… “L-Lace.”

VP smirked. “Apparently, you two young ‘ins make quite the pair. She’s survived, too.”

My eyes darted to his blue one. “W-Where—”

He held up a heavily ringed, tattoo-covered hand. “We don’t have her, but she’s safe.”

Conflicted, my heart pounded. One part of me was relieved. The other part didn’t know how to trust and felt Lace, not by my side, was in danger.

VP added, “Before the Prospects could find her, she made it through the woods, literally, and stumbled onto the property of a hospital called the Serenity this morning.”

I blinked in shock. What luck!

VP shook his head. “Not that kind of hospital, kid. It’s an institute for the crazy kind of peeps. Some doc there took her to a medical hospital, though. We’re staying low but have eyes on her. She’s getting sewn up as we speak.”

Suddenly, my right hand was grabbed and flipped over. Prez examined the oval scar on my palm. “Who did this to you?” I was surprised to hear a hint of anger in his tone. I wasn’t sure who it was aimed at.

My own voice was hoarse, but I replied, “I don’t know you.” There was no way I was going to just reveal a secret. For safety reasons, I kept it from everyone except for Lace.

Prez lifted a brow. “Don’t ‘cha think my actions have shown more integrity than the assholes who have bloodied up your girlfriend?”

“Wife,” I almost choked out, upset I hadn’t protected her better. All I could do now was try harder, hence not giving up much info.

His head jerked back. “Wife? How the hell is that possible when you couldn’t be older than fifteen.”

“I’m seventeen.”

“And her?”

“Seventeen, but—” To prove how serious I was, I did my best to growl, “age doesn’t matter when you love someone.”

He smarted off, “It does in the eyes of the law, dumbass.”

Refusing to cave on this, I stared at the ceiling. “No law was involved.”

Prez’s head bobbed slightly as he admitted, “Not that I can say I live by laws, or have the right to argue with ya, but when did this ‘wedding’ take place for two minors?”

“Why is it so important?”

He snipped, “I got my reasons. Now talk. The truth.”

From the very beginning, Prez had a way of making me speak. He was formidable. It was hard to deny him. So, I locked my jaw, not wanting anyone to shit on a vow that I would be taking to the grave and afterlife. “Last night.” Knowing it might possibly sound ridiculous and not like the dream wedding a young woman may have wanted, I quietly—and shamefully—added, “In the trunk of the car.”