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“Me too. They said the victim was taken to the hospital, so that’s good. That means he’s still alive.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah. But it’s probably not Thane. Right?”
I nod, even though my head is spinning. “Let’s close up and go to the hospital, just to make sure.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Shouldn’t we?”
“It’s your decision. You’re the boss.”
“Then I want to close. Now.”
“Okay. Let’s go,” Jordan agrees. “I’ll drive.”
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
RJ
In Jordan’s and my rush to get into the hospital, it didn’t occur to either of us to remove our Savage Kings cuts. At least, not until we’re being slammed up against the wall in the hospital hallway by four large, angry members of the Devil Hounds MC. Well, only one is slamming us. The other three are just observing.
“What the fuck are you doing here? Come to finish him off?” the biggest one, who has to be about seven feet tall, asks as he holds me to the wall in his right hand and Jordan in his left. His mouth is lost among the sea of a reddish-brown beard.
“No. We heard about the shooting and just wanted to see who it was,” Jordan answers since my mouth is too dry to speak. Thinking fast doesn’t happen for me on a good day. When all I can think about is Thane shot and bleeding out and dying, I’m at a complete loss for words.
“You look familiar,” the meathead says.
“I’m Jordan. The guy Thane kidnapped and held hostage?”
“And you think you can get payback on him while he’s unconscious?”
“Thane’s unconscious?” I blurt out. “So it was him who…who…”
The mountain of a man tugs on my collar to pull me toward him before slamming my back into the wall again, hard enough to make me groan. I sort of regret doing something similar to Thane in the club’s bathroom.
“Hank! Let them go!” a woman calls out from the other end of the hall.
As soon as I see her red hair flying around her shoulders, I recognize her. Lyla’s got a bandage wrapped around her head, and her hands look like she’s been in a boxing ring. Her dress is covered in blood.
It’s so much blood. Thane’s blood. Someone hurt him, tried to kill him.
She marches up to the giant, looking unafraid of him. Jumping off the ground to reach him, she grabs his earlobe and pulls. “I said let them go!”
“I don’t answer to you, little girl,” the man grunts while wincing as she pulls his head down to her height. His grip on me and Jordan doesn’t relax, unfortunately.
“Then call my father and ask him. Until then, take your hands off them!”
“They’re Savage Kings!”
“No shit, Sherlock,” she huffs, blowing a strand of hair from in front of her glasses.
“Ow!” he mutters when she digs her fingernail into his earlobe.
“Call my father, then go by the house to find me some clean clothes. Please.”
I’m not sure if it’s her nail or the use of the word “please,” but he finally removes his hands from me and Jordan.
