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Chapter 16
Ares
As I enter QB’s hospital room, I notice a chair off to the side with a large bench seat under the window. QB’s leg lays suspended with a cast. I can see the road rash down his right arm. The doctor came to update us, and the good news is QB has no evidence of internal bleeding. The older nurse with gray hair had been stern when she said QB needed to rest. Her thick nursing shoes bustled down the hallway as we confirmed we understood her orders. I give her credit; she didn't blink an eye at Misfit or me in our cuts.
Knowing QB was okay was the only thing keeping me in check right now. I wanted to beat the hell out of something for what he went through.
As we stood there, QB's eyes flittered open.
"You gave us a fucking scare, man," Misfit says quietly.
QB does not respond right away and blinks at Misfit.
"Can you hear us?" I ask, not able to keep the concern out of my voice.
"Yes," QB's voice comes out scratchy. I bring the cup with the straw to his lips, and he takes a small sip.
"Can you tell us what happened?" I ask, wanting to get to the point so we could leave him in peace.
QB shakes his head and then winces, closing his eyes tightly.
"Be careful," Misfit says, touching his arm lightly.
QB opens his eyes once more and says gruffly, "no."
Misfit and I stand there another few minutes and watch as QB's eyes close again. We decide not to press him further and head out. On our way down the hall, I nod my head at the nurse.
In the elevator, I think to ask Misfit, "where's QBs bike anyway?"
"I asked Trixter to track it," Misfit rocks on his feet, looking anxious.
We both tear out of the hospital parking lot with the clubhouse our next destination. The more each mile passes, the more pissed I am. It's one thing to try and wreak havoc on our business, but it's a whole new act of war when the safety of my brothers is at stake.
As soon as my kickstand is down, I'm making my way into the clubhouse. The room is subdued while my brothers and the sweetbutts are hanging out murmuring. I yell, "church, god damn now!"
I don't make eye contact with anyone as I go straight to our sanctuary. I sit at the head of the table. Within minutes, my brothers are seated, and the door is closed.
Before I speak, a knock sounds at the door.
"Go the fuck away!" I'm in no mood for bullshit right now. The door swings open, and Zeke is standing there in ratty old jeans and a red bandana covering his head. His cut is framing his bulky figure. I didn't realize how much I missed this old man, which gives me a pang in my heart thinking about my Dad.
"About time you showed the fuck up, old man," I say, scowling.
"It's nice to see you too, brother," Zeke remarks.
"Did you just get here?" I ask.
"About an hour ago, Trixter filled me in on the latest," he says, taking his seat after closing the door behind him.
"I want options; this will not stand. The Havoc Ryders are fucking dead," I say.
The room is silent for several long minutes, and Zeke is the first to speak, "do we have proof this was the Havoc Ryders?"
"Who else would it be?" I demand.
Zeke clears his throat, "with all due respect Prez; I think we need to do some recon before we do anything."
I interrupt him, "your brother is lying in a hospital bed, his bike probably in pieces, and you want to talk to me about recon?" I grit out my words, fuming at the lack of destruction being describe in grim detail. "I want something to explode!" I yell.
