AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I am.” He got to his feet and swallowed a grunt. “If I wasn’t, I’d be climbing into a truck and searching the streets for her.”
“Don’t think she’s in town.” Rubble blew out a stream of smoke.
Turning, Kevlar eyed him. “Why do you say that?”
“’Cause her bag’s gone.” He searched for an ashtray but came up short and used an empty pop can instead. “My guess is she went back east.”
Suddenly, walking back to his room seemed more difficult than running a marathon. He staggered backward slightly, his arm shooting out to catch the bed.
Rubble’s gaze settled on him. “She’ll be back, don’t worry.”
Kevlar sat again, defeat creeping into his mind. “And how do you know that? Did she leave a note for you?” he asked sarcastically. “Because she sure didn’t leave one for me.”
“Nah, but I have a hunch about her.” He grinned. “A good one.” He smoothed his long beard and walked to the door. “Plus, she left her spare gun. No woman as badass as yours forgets her sidearm.”
A millisecond of humor filtered through Kevlar. It was quickly replaced by skepticism. A left behind gun didn’t mean jackshit. He blew out a noisy breath and leaned back into the bed. Doc’s connection with the local hospital had its perks. This bed and the drugs in his veins being two of the better ones.
The sound of the clubhouse drifted down the hall. Somebody—probably a prospect—was begging for a blowjob from one of the nymphs. He chuckled at the desperation in the man’s voice. He’d never been that bad up for a hummer.
Snoopy and Legs were arguing down the hall. The mixture of Spanish and English intensified as did their volume. They’d make up and fuck like bunnies soon enough. It was a constant for those two.
Klink and Cueball were betting on a pool game. From the sound of it, Cueball was living up to his name. Then there was Doc and Isa. The creaking of bedsprings told him everything he needed to know.
The rest of the sounds mingled together, creating a sweet symphony of Macha life. Queenie and Reaper’s voices from the kitchen, Rubble’s throaty chuckle, Dolly’s cursing, and Brewer egging her on.
This was home. It was the place he’d dreamed of every night of his deployment. Now that he was back, he wasn’t going anywhere. The sole thing that’d make it completely home was Kita. She was missing from his perfect ending. He didn’t believe in the bullshit fairy tales, but he’d make an exception for her. She was as fiery as Macha herself. And Kita fit perfectly with him.
Closing his eyes, Kevlar let himself drift to sleep. The nightmares didn’t invade his mind to his relief. Instead, he dreamed of Kita and a future that involved them together.
***
Three days passed since Kevlar was shot. Doc changed his dressings, Isa once or twice when he was busy. Evidently, Doc’s old lady was honing her role, and that involved learning the ropes of first aid. He didn’t really mind. It gave him something to look forward to other than the lack of messages on his phone.
Glancing at the rousing game of pool, Kevlar waited his turn. The impromptu tournament started when Dolly and her nymphs bet against Cueball and Klink. Of course, the two men couldn’t turn down the chance to make the women eat their words. Thus far, the two bikers were the ones shoveling in the shit.
“You heard from her?” Reaper asked, handing him a tumbler full of whiskey.
He gripped the glass and took a long swig. “Nope.”
“She’ll call.”
“She doesn’t have a phone.” He set down the drink. “And even if she did, I doubt she memorized my number.”
Reaper chuckled. The club president could usually help him feel better nearly all the time. Tonight, he failed. The only mood Kevlar could conjure was gloomy.
“Keep your chin up, boyo. Never know when somebody will surprise you.” He greeted Queenie with a smooch on the lips. Their affection usually comforted him. Not tonight.
“Yo, Kevlar, you’re up, brother.” Rubble waved at him.
Standing up, he noticed the pain from the bullet wound somewhat subsided. Then again, Doc did force-feed him a strong pain pill five minutes earlier. That combined with the MC-made whiskey, he could probably get shot again and not feel a damn thing.
He took the offered cue stick and broke. The balls scattered across the felt table, none making in a pocket. For the next fifteen minutes, he and Dolly shot pool. He finished his whiskey and had another by the time the game ended, and he walked away victorious. The win temporarily raised his spirits.
Klink and a nymph named Tilly took up the next game, leaving him plenty of time to wallow. Well, in his current position, he couldn’t remember what day it was, let alone why he was sad. It was a kind reprieve after the last week.
Hawk walked in, stealing the attention from the pool games.
“There he is,” Cueball said, hugging him. “Where you been?”
