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“Chey, can I have a word?” he asked, and I saw it was Mick, Dave’s second-in-command.
“Sure, Nana put that in the microwave; I’ll warm it up if I need to,” I said and followed Mick out to reception.
“Chey, years ago, Dave told us to inform you if someone from Hellfire MC ever came around sniffing. We got a man, calls himself Chance Michaelson, and he says he wants a word with you.” I straightened, and my shoulders drew back. My eyes moved to the window, and I saw Chance staring at me.
“Stay close, Mick,” I replied, and I opened the door and stepped outside. Roars from the gathered crowd erupted, and I offered a wave and smile as I walked towards Chance.
“You’re banned from this property, so whatever you want, make it quick, and get the hell out,” I said, approaching Chance. A glower had settled on his handsome features, and Chance sneered as he stared at me.
“You get one warning Chey, you fucked with Celt’s head before. You don’t get to do it again,” Chance growled.
“I don’t have a clue what you’re on about,” I snapped.
“Inviting us tonight and then singing those last three songs. Couldn’t have got your message any clearer.” Chance folded brawny arms across his chest.
“We didn’t invite Hellfire,” I denied, shaking my head but keeping my stance relaxed. I was still facing the crowd and didn’t want to give rise to gossip. I could see several reporters craning their necks and kept a friendly smile on my face despite the hate blazing from my eyes.
“Bitch, whatever game you’re playing, stop,” Chance warned.
“Listen, asshole, I don’t lie, we didn’t send those invitations, but I can guess who did. And it’s none of the band, just another jackass with a problem. He’ll be dealt with. Now take your ass and get the fuck off my Nana’s property. You ain’t welcome Chance and never will be. Go back to your group of thugs,” I snarled, which was really difficult while keeping a smile.
“Fuck you, bitch,” Chance growled. Hate mirrored mine in his eyes.
“No Chance, fuck you, see all this. Drew could have had everything. But you and your pathetic gang stole this from him. I hope you’re all fucking happy in your shitty lives,” I said and, on that note, offered a big grin and strode away. “Get fucking lost before I have security remove you.” I tossed over my shoulder.
Mick observed as I walked towards him, his eyes firmly narrowed on Chance. I stopped next to him, and Mick glanced down.
“He’s leaving, chick,” Mick muttered.
“Good, in future, if any of those assholes come across, toss them out on their ass Mick please,” I asked.
“Be my pleasure, Chey,” Mick replied.
Chapter Two.
My scream shattered the silence of the morning as I stared in disbelief at Kye. Without a second thought, I ran over to Kye and yanked back the covers. Kye’s chest was bare, but I hardly noticed as I began CPR. My shriek echoed again as I frantically begged Kye not to give up. Kye’s room backed onto mine, and he’d woken me with a loud banging. At first, I’d been confused, but I realised his headboard was smashing against the wall, and I’d got out of bed.
In the past, I would have ignored it, but knowing what I did, I checked on Kye and found him moments later not breathing. Panic swept through me as I gazed at Kye’s lifeless body. This could not be happening. I screamed for help again, hoping someone would wake. A flurry of movement made me glance up.
“Kye’s not breathing, Bridge, call emergency,” I shrieked. Bridge was shoved aside as Saint barrelled in. I felt like a hand was squeezing my throat. I could barely breathe with the horror I was facing. Kye was too young to die.
“Move, Chey,” Saint said and took over CPR. I staggered backwards, my gaze fixed on Kye’s eyes, staring at nothing. A sob escaped as my fingers covered my mouth, and I kept backing away. All I could see was Kye lying there as Saint worked furiously on him. Disbelief swept over me, and my mind frantically tried to deny what I was seeing.
“Chey?” Nana called, rushing towards me. Behind her came Jed, and I saw Dave stopping Jesse. Johnno and Zyaire appeared drowsy until they noticed the commotion at Kye’s door. Sobs erupted hysterically as I lost control as Zyaire pushed his way in and spelled Saint from CPR.
“It’s Kye; he’s not breathing; I couldn’t find a pulse!” I cried, not noticing the crowd outside, or the media. Nana tried to take me into her embrace, but I moved away, wrapping my arms around my waist. My eyes were glued to the room where my best friend lay.
“The guys have to save him!” I shrieked, seeking help.
“Yo, got a defibrillator here, let me fuckin’ through,” Chance growled, and I turned. Mick was blocking Chance’s path. I stared at the white box Chance carried, and hope surged. Hate for Chance faded, and I began praying he’d be Kye’s saviour. Chance held my eyes, sympathy and anger in them as he stood toe to toe with Mick.
“Allow him through,” Johnno ordered, paler than I’d ever seen him.
“Ambo is on the way,” Bridge called.
“Oh my God,” the cry left my lips as I sank to the floor. “Don’t let Kye die!” My tears fell so thick I could barely see through them. Sirens shrieked in the distance as people crowded Kye and tried to restart his heart. Hurry, I urged the ambulance, hurry.
“Got a pulse,” Chance bellowed a few minutes later. I began rocking on the ground, my arms wrapped around my legs, and watched as men moved in and out of the room. The crowd surrounding the motel blocked the entrance to the car park, and I screamed for the crowd to get out of the way. I ignored the nosey parkers filming me. What did I care about them? Kye lay unconscious with one of the most hated people in my life, trying to save him. Screw the media and fans. Kye was all that mattered. Security roughly shoved onlookers away, and finally, the ambulance managed to drive on and park. Two paramedics clambered out and dashed towards the obvious emergency.
