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PROLOGUE
Two Years Ago
I’ve just closed my eyes. My body adjusting to the uncomfortable thin mattress of the on-call bed when I hear a loud commotion down the hall. My mind is sleep addled and barely conscious. But my body moves anyway, ready to spring into action. As one of the tallest and strongest doctors on staff, I’m often called to assist with disturbances. I should check in before someone has to page me.
As I follow the sound of the noise, I reach a room where a small crowd of nurses gathers. Inside, two nurses and two orderlies try to hold down a small child who’s screaming bloody murder. Never in my life have I heard such a sound come out of a child, and I’ve been around Pocus’s and Seer’s children often over these last few years.
The nurses part for me. As I enter the room, the child thrashes the bed, screaming incoherent nonsense. She’s small, no more than five, I assume. When I go to the computer to look at her chart, I see that she’s nearly ten. I quickly assess her and notice her height and weight are extremely low for a child her age. My heart sinks at her stringy, straw-like hair. Based on her size and behavior, I’d bet money she’s either homeless or from an abusive household.
I quickly calculate a sedative dosage based on her weight and put in my code to unlock the narcotics drawer. I prepare the syringe. I’m sorry I have to do this to such a small child who’s clearly dealing with an enormous amount of trauma. After I administer the sedative and she calms down, I make a note in her chart for her attending doctor to call Child Protective Services. It’s the least I can do for her.
The nurses in the room thank me. I turn to see the crowd has dispersed. The show is over. There’s nothing to see here. We can all get back to our mundane tasks for the graveyard shift. No pun intended.
As I leave the room, fully prepared to fall asleep the moment I’m back in the on-call room, I run into a slight woman with dark curls spilling out of a messy bun. She looks frazzled and hectic. When she peers up at me, her blue eyes pierce mine. She looks down, and I realize I’ve put my hands on her shoulders to stop her from a collision. We both move away quickly, awkwardly.
“What the hell is going on with my sister?” she asks, and my heart sinks.
I hope this woman isn’t the reason the young girl looks so malnourished. Still, it isn’t my business. I’m not the doctor assigned to her case. I’m too tired to deal with it now. As long as the girl is in the hospital, no one will be able to hurt her. Her attending will follow up with CPS, and my job is done. I wash my hands of her and return to the uncomfortable bed, falling asleep with the image of her blue eyes seared into my brain.
CHAPTERONE
Seer’s face breaks into a wide smile as I walk into the meeting room. It’s only been a few days since we last saw each other, but it’s the first time in a while I’ve darkened the door of the old plantation home the Ruthless Kings call home.
“It’s good to see you, mon frere,” he says, clapping my hand and pulling me into an embrace.
“Sorry it’s been so long. These hospital shifts are killing me.”
Six months ago, I was promoted to the chief of surgery for the pediatric unit. The promotion was supposed to be a cushy admin job, allowing me more time with the club, but that hasn’t been the case. I’ve been busier than ever, working longer hours than I ever thought possible. It feels more like a punishment than a promotion.
“They’re killing me, too,” he jokes. “I need to start giving these guys insurance if you can’t patch them up.”
This makes me laugh. As the MC’s resident doctor, I’ve always been counted upon to provide medical care to the men. They’ve needed my services. The guys are constantly getting into fights in bars, getting stabbed or shot, or being beaten to a pulp. I’ve been “patching them up” for years. In some cases, I save their lives, all at no cost to them. Members of motorcycle clubs aren’t exactly comfortable in the ER.
As if that weren’t enough, Pocus, Seer, and Hex all decided to bring women into this strange world. When Pocus’s wife, Abigail, got pregnant for the first time, I was constantly on-call, providing as much care as I could. She had one of the worst cases of morning sickness I’d ever seen. Now that both men are fathers, I’m their kids’ pediatrician as well.
It’s been a long time since I’ve come to church. Since my promotion, I’ve hardly come to the clubhouse at all. Not that it’s stopped Pocus and Seer from calling me any time their children sneeze funny. They have classic new-parent anxiety, even after years of being parents. Pocus’s daughter just turned five, and Seer’s son will soon be four.
I’d do anything for them. Pocus and Seer know that. I can’t help as much as I used to, but I’m always there for the late-night house calls, as long as I’ve confirmed the kids are actually sick and aren’t dealing with allergies or too much candy. Now Abigail is pregnant with her second child, and Pocus calls me several times a day. Thankfully, this pregnancy seems to be much smoother than her first. When she was pregnant with her daughter, Daisy, her morning sickness was legendary.
I take my seat as the other men file in, nodding at me appreciatively. Some stop by to say hello. I notice with some guilt a few hastily bandaged wounds, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I keep telling Seer it’s time to find a new, young doctor willing to pledge his allegiance to the club, but that will be tricky. In fact, that’s one of the reasons he’s called church tonight.
I try to focus on what Seer says, but my eyes cross from tiredness. I thought becoming a chief would mean more humane hours, but my superiors have a sick sense of work ethic. I’ve already worked eighty hours this week, reminding me of my days as a resident. No amount of coffee in this world amounts to a good night’s sleep, and I haven’t had one of those in two years.
I look around the room to take in the faces of my brothers in arms. Not much has changed in the last few years. Or rather, there aren’t many new faces. The faces themselves have changed a lot, though. We’re all starting to look old. When did that happen? I could have sworn we were all young, strapping men who joined the MC for a sense of brotherhood. Now we all look like old men trying to relive their glory years.
I was in my early twenties when I joined this group. Now I’m pushing thirty-five. Pocus has aged the most, by far, the stress of fatherhood clearly getting to him. He stepped down as the Prez nearly four years ago, after he nearly lost his life trying to save Hex. He’d made a bad decision, choosing to sacrifice himself for the sake of the club and his family. In the end, he decided he had to prioritize Abigail and Daisy, which we all felt was the right decision. Pocus has always given more of himself to this club than the rest of us, and we all give a lot. When he stepped down as Prez, he finally set a healthy boundary.
Seer’s been better at staying objective, but the bags under his eyes are no less obvious. His son, Nicky, has only recently started sleeping on a regular schedule. Poor Seer has probably gotten less sleep than I have for three years. Add that to his growing responsibilities as the club’s current Prez, and he looks more skeletal than ever.
He’s called this meeting to talk about… something to do with membership. My mind is hazy with the details. I’m too focused on what my bed will feel like when I finally climb into it. My apartment has been vacant for two weeks as I’ve become a full-time tenant of the hospital on-call room. Again, I’m reminded of my early days as a resident. It was easier to maintain this schedule when I was bright-eyed and bushy tailed.
I stifle a yawn and squint, focusing my eyes on Seer standing in the middle of the room. His tall frame dominates. He’d command attention even if he weren’t the current Prez. To our surprise, he was a natural at it, easily filling Pocus’s shoes. Pocus has been gracious enough to bow to Seer’s authority and not insert his opinion too often. At least not in public.
“The juvenile detention center is overflowing with kids, and some of them are being tried as adults,” Seer says, referring to the recent uptick in violent crimes committed by kids lately. “The police force is facing a crisis right now. They’re scrutinizing us more carefully than they have before.”
God damn the gangs who’ve resorted to recruiting young kids as new members. Four years ago, several of the gangs were attacked, and many members were murdered. No one wanted to join because they felt like the gangs were cursed, so the gangs recruited younger kids. Recently I had a stabbing victim come in who was only twelve. He was a member of the Cuatro Locos gang, one that was hit especially hard.
It’s an unfortunate epidemic sweeping the city. The problem is the cops can’t tell if a child is being used by a gang or if they just have neglectful parents. One gang is using ten-year-olds to smuggle drugs and commit petty theft. The community is going to hell in a handbasket. It’s mostly due to Anderson Grey, may he rot in hell.
