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Visiting hours were from ten in the morning to five in the evening and I would be at his bedside the entire time, then retire to the hotel for the night. When Mushu told me the guys pitched in for my long-term hotel stay, it warmed my heart, but I had no desire to see any of them.
After ordering food delivery, I plopped on the bed and held my phone up to see a mass of missed calls from Mushu and Dallas. The latter was a surprise, but I wasn’t about to call him. I had nothing to say to him. All I know is he was part of the skirmish and did nothing to avoid my father getting shot. “Siri, call Mushu.”
“So any change?”Mushu’s voice lacked emotion. Clearly, he was not taking this well.
“No, I’ve been going every day this week—well, since I was released.” I chuckled, then groaned, “That’s not important. He still isn’t waking up, and the doctor is getting concerned about that—.”
I couldn’t finish with what I was saying as the whole ‘pulling the plug’ comment ran repeatedly through my head.
“About what, Char?”
“The doc told me if my father doesn’t make an improvement in the next week, I would need to agree to sign the Do Not Resuscitate form, meaning they would need to pull the plug.” I yelled out, “No! No Mushu, my father is a fighter. He will make it through this.”
“Just keep that hope alive. We are all pulling for him back home.”
“Um, Mushu. I noticed Dallas Marquez tried calling a billion times today. Would you have any idea how he got my number and why he’d be calling me?”
“My mom’s calling. Dinner’s ready. I need to go.”
The little shit disconnected the call, and I called him back immediately. “Mushu, don’t dance around my question. Did you give Dallas my number?”
“He said he was concerned about you and wanted your number. It’s not like he’s trying to get into your pants, Char.”
I hummed at his answer, “Then that would make me no different from every other girl who hasn’t had a piece of the Dallas Marquez pie.” Why was I thinking about the way he bore those amber eyes of his into mine? Why was his perfect yet crooked smile etched in my mind? Because, admittedly, I was crazy about Dallas Marquez. WAS being the operative word, until I nearly killed him, and also, I haven’t seen him in four years. “I’ll call him. But that doesn't mean I want to see him.”
“Oh, before you call him. I want to warn you. He’s taken over the club in the Chief’s absence and he’s looking for more prospects with the idea of a skirmish to end the Aklark club.”
Shocked and bewildered, I didn’t realize I had moved too close to the edge of the bed until I fell to the floor.
“Char?”
“Yea-yea- sorry, I fell off the bed. Has he lost his ever-loving mind? He’s going against everything my father believes in.” I groaned, “Oh, I’ll call him alright and give him a piece of my mind.” A thought occurred to me. I couldn't just sit here and allow this to happen. I needed to head back down to Seward and persuade Dallas not to go through with his plans to annihilate the Aklark club. There has to be a reason and I do not know who the hell even shot my father. For all I knew, it could have been some dimwitted prospect who was trigger-happy and couldn’t care less about the rules.
“Um, Char? Did I lose you?”
“I just got a ping on my phone. My dinner is downstairs. Before I go, I am going to head home tomorrow after a quick visit with my father. I will see you Monday night.” I disconnected the call and rushed downstairs with ideas swimming through my head on what I was going to do, hoping for the successful execution of my plan.
EIGHT
KENNEDY TOWNSEND
Tyler Dixon was my rival and I shouldn’t have felt guilty about shooting him in the back. I chastised men for being cowards, and I shot him in the back like a coward. As I sat in my office, sucking on the end of my Cuban cigar, nursing a bottle of Woodford Reserve whiskey, my peace was interrupted when one prospect rushed into the office. “Who are you?”
“Sir. I’m Wick Rowland. A new prospect here and I’m the one who you recruited to act as a prospect in the Nanuq Shila club.”
Slapping my forehead, I had momentarily blanked out the conversation I had with this young kid. “So, do you have any news for me?”
“They aren’t meeting again until Monday evening, but Dallas Marquez is acting President while their Chief is laid up in Anchorage. He’s planning to recruit more prospects in order to attack Aklark.”
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out two twenty-dollar bills and handed them to the kid. “Good job. When you hear more, report to me. But not until we have a date and a time.”
After the kid left, I smirked with the thought that Dallas Marquez was next on his list until every Nanuq Shila member was six feet under. “No, Dixon. I don’t feel guilty about shooting you. Just guilty of being a coward, which is uncharacteristic of me.”
NINE
CHARLENE
It was nice being home after four dynamic years in Seattle and two troublesome weeks in Anchorage. There was only so much I could do for my father. Watching this once vibrant, powerful man wither away was more than I could bear. Yet, I had to do something for my father’s honor and my ideas of dismantling the toxic Aklark club would never materialize by sitting in a hospital room all day. Yeah, I know I was sounding callous, but my father would expect me to fight for what I believe in; though, in this case, he may not be happy with me for risking my life and his honor by pretending to be a dude to fit into either club.
