Page 26 of Road to Absolution

Still supporting me, Viola was shaking mad. I had never seen her so cross with her brother, whom she adored as much as Tucker. But she’d also had no idea Kenny was alive. “So, Maverick’s accident wasn’t random?”

Diesel quickly peered about, not wanting certain information shared. Viola’s eyes followed his, then slowed. Her body went still, and her expression morphed into awareness. Her expression said, with all the bikers being present, all soaking wet from rain and leaving trails of water and blood… this was no accident.

After taking a deep breath, she adamantly told her brother, “I don’t want Tuck to know about Kenny until I know how to handle this.” She sneered, “He will hate you if he learns the truth—"

To spare me embarrassment or shame, she stopped talking, just like she had years ago, for me. The night Kenny killed himself—died—or didn’t die—we both made a vow to tell no one what had happened. Sparing hearts was for the best.

The wall of Ryders blocking my view, smartly so, prevented me from seeing Kenny, but his cries could still be heard. I solemnly nodded in understanding when his screams faded to pitiful moans, telling me he had been sedated by medical professionals.

Again, Kenny was denied being heard.

Again, my heart bled for him.

Frozen in place—trapped by dark secrets—I blew out a shaky breath, not sure how to proceed. That was until my mind played a beautiful sound. I fucking love you, Lilah. The gravelly voice that my soul would always follow.

Sharply inhaling, I groaned, “Maverick,” as I hungered to hear his voice again. Him safe, healthy, and ready to give more crazy love. My eyes filled with tears and terror as I stumbled forward. “Maverick.”

I jolted to a stop when I saw his emergency room was empty. Not even a nurse. It was like the whole team who had been working on him had traveled with him, but I had no idea where to.

My mind, struggling to properly function, had me watch as my hand laid on the glass, wanting to touch his work boot sitting on a side table. The other one was now on the floor as if it had been tossed to be out of the way. His clothes—jeans and t-shirt—were cut and laying in a haphazard pile.

But there was no Maverick. That large body I had caressed, kissed, held, and treasured was gone. Maybe I started moaning in anguish because Viola was suddenly at my side again, holding me, whispering, “Shhh. He’s alive. I swear it.”

I watched my terrified exhales fog the glass where my forehead was now pressed. I hadn’t remembered moving, but there I was, begging the cold glass to hold me up. Keep me from collapsing. “I… I… want…”

Viola tightened her hold. “Tell me and it will be done.”

Pointing my finger on the glass, I tried to show what I needed. “His shoes. His clothes. I want it all.”

I heard movement, then saw a Ryder walk past me to the other side of the glass. He had a white plastic hospital bag and put every item I asked for inside.

When he exited the room, I stumbled back, holding my arms wide.

Viola stopped my fall with her own body.

As the bag was placed in my arms, I stared up at the disheveled red hair that was drying from the rain. Scorch was Ryders’ Enforcer. A powerful man who was just as kind. I told him, “Thank you, Scorch.”

With only a sympathetic nod, he backed away.

Replacing him was Diesel, bringing a doctor toward me. Her white coat made her deep ruby hair stand out that much more. She was glaring at him, trying to yank her elbow free. To no avail, she grumbled, “You and your rugrats are making a complete mockery of this emergency room and my profession.”

Diesel grumbled right back, “Teach me a lesson later. Right now, I need a favor.” In front of me, he stood straight. “This is the boxer’s wife.”

Eyes racing to me, her mouth parted. “Delilah.”

She knows me? “Y-Yes.” Clutching Maverick’s belongings to my chest with one arm, I laid my hand on the glass again. “H-He’s gone. Gone. Gone.”

Green eyes that had just been annoyed with Diesel now softened. “He’s in x-ray—”

I gasped! “He’s awake?”

With sympathy, she explained, “No, honey. That’s why they are taking pictures of his head and body. They’re trying to understand the extent of his injuries. Your husband is with wonderful doctors that I trust, and specialists are already being flown in.” She shared, “Diesel is my friend.” Her anger had completely disappeared. “I promise to tell you what I know as soon as I know it. I won’t even ask you to wait in the waiting room.”

“Thank you,” said a grateful Diesel before kissing her cheek.

As if knowing the routine well, everyone standing with us moved to the wall and out of the way. Numbed by pain, I allowed my body to be guided.

Viola and I stood there, sheltered by large bikers who were usually full of jokes, like my nickname, JB. Jailbait. That’s what they called me when Art and I wanted to date but I was underage. The lack of their boisterous attitude and laughter had a chill seizing my spine. I hadn’t asked them to leave my side or not talk to me, even though they had tricked me. I think it was already clear I would forgive, not that I hadn’t already, to be honest, since I knew what it was like to care for Kenny. So, the only conclusion my tired brain could muster was that they were as scared as me. Not being married or in love with Maverick, I couldn’t help but wonder what was troubling them so terribly.