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“We can handle whatever needs to happen, Scar, just no one outside the club if we can help it,” Emmett finally says, answering for the three of them as I glance back down at the troubled man beside me.
With him sleeping like this, or passed out, whichever way you want to look at it, he looks peaceful, calm, and pain free, but something tells me his dreams are haunted and his life isn’t so serene. It never is when you’re a part of a motorcycle club like this. Being a one-percenter, an outlaw, usually smothers the pain we’ve already been exposed to.
“We need to get him inside.”
Ryker nods in response as he starts to rise to his feet, but he pauses when Emmett speaks.
“We can’t go through the club, there are still people in the bar, and if they see us walk in with him like this, they’ll have questions.”
“Fuck.”
I’m not sure who the curse comes from. Ryker? Gray? Fuck… me?
“There must be some other access point,” I suggest, rising to my feet.
“We can move him around the back. That will allow us to come in through the side entrance closer to our rooms so we don’t pass anyone,” Ryker states, and I sag a little with relief.
“Perfect, the three of you carry him and I’ll make sure to hold the doors open.”
The three of them work together, lifting their friend carefully, before Gray nods for me to head toward the right.
Cutting across the grass, I cringe at the feeling of dew dampening my feet, but I’m thankful it’s not glass at least. Ryker tosses me a key to open the door. The second they’re all in, I shut it behind me and lock it back up.
I turn around to see them opening the door that I saw Axel go through when I first arrived, before he blasted the heavy metal music, and I follow them inside.
Once they have him lying on the bed comfortably, I reach for his right boot, but hands stop me from touching him once more. “I’ve got this, Scar. He would never forgive us if we allowed you to undress him.”
My eyes widen at Gray’s words, and I take a step back without pushing for more. There’s clearly a sensitive subject here that I’m not privy to, and rightfully so. “Strip him down to his t-shirt and boxers.”
“What do we do now?” The solemn question comes from Ryker.
“All we can do is sit and wait. But it would be ideal if he had some water and pain meds when he finally wakes.”
“You can’t be in this room when he wakes up, sweet cheeks,” Gray explains, and I nod despite my internal need to stay at his side and repeat my childhood like I was so rhythmically used to.
“Okay.” The word tastes wrong on my tongue. Being compliant isn’t my usual role, so this has me completely out of sorts, but there are boundaries here and I need to respect them.
Turning, I head for the door, but I barely make it two steps before a hand wraps around my arm and I’m forced to stop.
What is it with these men always needing to get my attention physically instead of just saying my name? Anyone else and I would be pissed off right now, but somehow, I’m holding it together.
“How do you know all this?” Ryker asks, the bags under his eyes far more noticeable when I’m up this close.
“All what?”
He rolls his eyes at me as his grip flexes on my arm. “Don’t play dumb, Reaper. It doesn’t suit you.”
I’m not sure how I feel about this new acclaimed nickname he’s chosen for me, but I decide to save that argument for later. I glance at his hand on me instead, glaring at it until he releases me. Once he does, I offer him a sliver of my truth.
“My mother was a woman with addictions of every kind. You name it, she wanted it. But her greatest loves were dick, alcohol, and drugs.” His features remain neutral, no surprise or disgust playing out across his face. “But he should be fine. The combination of bourbon on his breath and whatever drugs he has in his system have knocked him out. Hopefully, it’s nothing more than that, but if his pulse becomes shallower, come find me. He’ll wake up feeling like hell tomorrow, and you’ll be able to handle that, but you have to know… this isn’t okay for him. This isn’t the path to survival. If you don’t intervene, things are only going to get worse.”
Ryker’s jaw tightens, his nostrils flaring as he stuffs his hands into his pockets. “I know that.”
With a nod, I turn once more, but I don’t even get to lift a foot this time before Emmett calls out my name.
“He can’t know that you helped him.”
I glance between the three of them, and they are all wearing the same understanding in their eyes.
