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“Nah,” I say, waving her off. “I don’t mind. Won’t be doing anything except for this anyway. Propping my feet up on my recliner at home and reading a book until I doze off.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I’m good.” I turn back to Detective Blackwood and smile. “Besides, I’d like to consider myself his friend.”
Laughing, she shakes her head. “You two always got along great with those corny jokes.”
“It’s so sad to see the good guys not have anyone to support them.”
“Yeah, maybe he’s got family on the east coast or something. Maybe they’re traveling here,” Sarah suggests.
Shaking my head, I stifle a yawn and say, “I wish that were the case. According to Jones,” I say of his partner, “It’s just him.”
“Damn,” she whispers.
“My sentiments exactly.”
“Okay...if you’re sure you’re good, I will make the rest of my rounds.”
“I am.”
The door closes, and I return to my book. My eyes keep flickering to Detective Blackwood, and I can’t help but be bothered about his situation. I wish there were someone that I could call on his behalf, hell, even if it were a girlfriend. The man is attractive, I’ll give him that, but we’re nothing more than friends.
Scooting closer to the bed, I set my phone aside. Taking his hand in mine, I say, “I know you work undercover, and I guess that landed you here. If you can hear me, believe that I’m rooting for you on this side. You’ve got to come through. There are too many gang members that you need to put away, too many crimes to solve, and too much violence to eliminate. We need you, Ryan. The world needs more people like you.”
Tears well up in my eyes as I think of my mother and two of my brothers. Losing three family members, half of my family, to gang violence, I will always be a champion for men like Detective Blackwood. They are my daily street heroes, fighting the evil that took away those I love.
“You’re a fighter, a warrior. You have the courage of a thousand Roman soldiers. You cannot die, you hear me? I need you to fight this battle so that you can live to see another day. And if you decide not to continue the work, I won’t be mad. Who can blame you? I hope you continue fighting, but I understand if you don’t.”
I close my eyes, allowing the tears to seep from underneath. Seeing this man down like this is a fresh reminder of my losses and the wounds I carry daily, like deep flesh wounds that can never be healed.
Tightening my lips, I bow, clasping his hand in mine.
“Please pull through, Ryan. I’m here waiting for you. Do you hear me? You’ve got me, even if you don’t have any family—”
“He’s got family,” a gruff voice sounds behind me, startling me from my misery.
I stand, wiping the tears away and straightening my scrubs before I turn around to meet the voice. I hadn’t heard the door open.
“Oh, I’m sorry. We thought...” My words trail off when I see the black leather cut with the patch exhibiting the Sin City Motorcycle Club insignia. Not just any motorcycle club, but a one percenter; Oakland's most feared motorcycle club. The bejeweled crown-bearing skull with the words Sin City on the top rocker and Oakland on the bottom.
My teeth are set on edge as my blood starts to boil. Although he’s wearing the ICU protective gear of a sheer blue gown, mask, gloves, and shoe coverings, it doesn’t hide who or what he is.
I know he can’t be the man that shot Ryan because I doubt he’d bother waltzing up in here washing up and getting dressed for a visit, but I’m sure it has something to do with him. Which is why I can’t control the venom spewing from my mouth.
“What is it that you want? To come in here and finish the job? Whatever the hell it is, I assure you that he’s stronger than you think, and when he recovers, he’ll come for your ass! I’ll make sure of it because I’ll be right by his side! People like you disgust me! No reason scum like you should be walking the face of this earth and a good man like Ryan laid up in bed struck down by some asshole like you!” I spit.
The man pushes off the doorframe, closing the door behind him. I can’t see his eyes behind the shades he’s wearing, but his mouth is turned down in displeasure, and his shoulders and chest seem to broaden as if he’s about to take flight like an eagle.
It might be my imagination, but I swear I hear a throaty growl that sounds like an animal preparing for an attack. A hawk, maybe? I stand taller, hold my head up and call on all the faith within me to not back down. I won’t let this asshole see or smell my trepidation.
I’m sure that whatever landed Ryan in this bed had something to do with that damned motorcycle club.
“Get. Out.”
“Excuse me? You need to leave. Or I’ll call security to escort you from the premises.”
“Over my dead fucking body,” he snarls.
