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I open my mouth but when I see Hawk give me a subtle shake of the head, I let the scathing reply I was about to unleash die on my lips.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him instead. “I’ll do better next time.”
“Yeah, you better.”
Hammerhead turns back to his plate and finishes the last of it. He’s pale and the sweat is pouring off him in sheets. He sways in his seat and looks like he’s about to fall out of it when Hawk jumps up to steady him.
“Hammerhead, you all right, man?”
“I don’t feel so good,” he croaks. “My fuckin’ heart feels like it’s about to explode.”
“Christ,” Hawk mutters, playing the part perfectly. “Hogwild. Hogwild, get over here!”
Moving as quickly as he can, Hogwild gets out of his chair and comes over. He instantly blanches when he sees Hammerhead’s condition and looks up at Hawk, as if he has no idea what to do. Hawk looks back at him. I step off to the side, pressing my back against the wall beside the bar, watching everything unfold. I’m doing my best to keep from smiling, but it’s tough. All I want to do is cheer and shout for joy—but I think it might be a little obvious I had something to do with this if I went nuts like that.
“Do you guys have a van? A car? Something?” Hawk demands.
“Yeah, yeah,” he replies. “We’ve got a van.”
“Get it. Pull it around front,” Hawk orders. “You have got to take him to the hospital.”
Hammerhead shakes his head. “No. No hospital.”
“Dude, if you don’t go to the hospital right now, you’re gonna die,” Hawk tells him. “Is that what you want? You want to die on the nasty-ass floor of this clubhouse?”
“No,” he gasps.
“I tried to warn you about going cold turkey, man. I told you it was dangerous,” Hawk continues. “Tried to tell you what it can do to you—”
“Save the lecture,” Hammerhead wheezes. “Get me to a hospital.”
“Now you’re thinking clearly,” Hawk says then looks up at Hogwild. “Van. Now. Go!”
The VP jumps up and runs across the clubhouse, banging through the side door. A moment later, I hear the sound of the van trying to start. Its condition is as bad as the clubhouse, and it hasn’t been properly serviced in a while, so it’s no wonder Hogwild is having trouble getting it to turn over. I catch Hawk’s eye and he gives me a faint smile. He’s calm and collected, as if everything is playing out just as he’d thought it would. That sends a surge of excitement flowing through my veins, making me feel like I’m on fire inside.
The van finally roars to life and pulls up in front of the clubhouse. Hawk helps get Hammerhead on his feet. Jammer gets one of his meaty arms around his shoulders and Hawk takes the other side. Together, they walk him out of the clubhouse and into the van. The others are gathered around, watching. I notice that nobody seems especially concerned whether he comes back alive or not. Nobody except for Deadbolt anyway. He’s on the edge of his seat and looks as if he’s wondering if all the stroking and sucking up he did to get on Hammerhead’s good side will now be all for naught.
The van roars away and Hawk steps back into the clubhouse, followed by Jammer. Hogwild must have been the one driving. Everybody is looking around at each other, nobody seeming to know what to do, say, or think. I personally don’t think many people would miss Hammerhead if he were to die. At least I’d have that in common with them. What the guys seem to be more concerned with is what happens to the club if he kicks off?
The logical answer is that Hogwild takes over. I think everybody seems to know that and judging by the look on their faces, they’re debating whether or not they can live with that. I’ve always thought Hogwild was well-respected by the guys but the looks on everybody’s faces make me think I’ve been wrong. Maybe. It could also be that everyone else is deciding whether or not they want to try for the President’s chair.
I don’t really give a shit about what they’re thinking, though. Not anymore. Because when I look at Hawk, I see an expression of calm, icy determination. His face tells me that his plan is coming together just as he’d laid it out. All we have to do now is wait for the next piece to fall into place.
I don’t know what it is, or what’s going to happen.
But I can hardly wait.
CHAPTERNINETEEN
Everything is going according to plan so far. Molly got the drugs into Hammerhead’s food and as predicted, he finished every last bit of it, causing him to feel ill. I’m not a pharmacist so I can’t say whether or not I gave him too much. It’s entirely possible I did and he’s going to die as a result. I don’t think the world would miss him. In fact, it would probably be a better place. It would also make the fallout of all this a lot less messy. Not that I’m afraid of a little mess. But I would actually like this to go smoothly and cleanly.
Although, given what the second part of the plan is, I don’t know if hoping things go smoothly and cleanly is wise. That might just be setting myself up to be disappointed. It is a good plan, though. I’m kind of proud of myself for thinking it up on the fly like I did. It’s got some holes and we’re going to need a lot of luck to pull it off, but I still think it’s going to work. It would just be a lot easier if Hammerhead croaked.
Molly walks into the kitchen with a bunch of dishes. I look at her and she gives me a nod—nobody’s coming. Perfect.
“All the guys are still feeling like crap and are laying around in the main room,” she tells me quietly as she’s setting the dishes down in the sink. “I don’t see anybody getting up and walking in on us. Besides, we’ll probably hear them coming.”
“That’s good. Let’s hope not,” I nod. “Everything is going well so far.”
