I don’t know how long I run. I just go, sending a silent thank you to above for all the training and conditioning I do in my job.
When my muscles start to burn from overuse, and my lungs feel like they are going to explode, I stop as cautiously as I can. Listening, I don’t hear footsteps behind me. Therefore, I decide to rest and gather my bearings.
Leaning against the large tree beside me, I slow my breathing as my body comes down from the endorphins and adrenaline rush. As fatigue fills me, I drop to the ground, rest my back against the trunk of the tree, and hang my head.
Tears fall freely as I think of what I witnessed.
What was my sister involved in? Why did they have to kill her?
Thinking of the pain she endured, I want to cry out, but fear silences me.
I fist the leaves around me, letting her dying eyes haunt my mind. The agony, the pleading, and the apologies she was silently sending me all wash over me.
Time has passed in a blur. Night has now fallen, and the woods are far too dark for me to safely traverse. Exhaustion consumes me, and I find myself drifting to sleep against my will.
Chapter
4
~Hammer~
Fire. I feel a fire inside me.
Pain. This is a pain like nothing I have ever felt before.
The beeping noise beside me is giving me a headache. What the fuck did I drink last night? I have never had a hangover this bad.
Last night. My mind is blank.
Yesterday. My mind is blank.
I try to move my head. I can’t move.
Panic fills me.
I can’t move.
I struggle to open my eyes, to shift my legs, to move my hands, or to turn my head. I can’t fucking move.
I want to yell, throw something, fuck somebody up, but I can’t do anything.
Will someone please shut that fucking beeping noise off?
Slowly, I think, Am I in the hospital?
Hospital. Why would I be in any medical facility?
I blink finally. My eyes slowly focus on a tiled ceiling above me. A few of the tiles are stained from age and perhaps an old leak. The lighting is dim, and I’m conscious enough to be grateful for that.
Shifting my gaze, I see a TV is on but muted, and an oversized dry erase board is directly underneath it with the words “My Care Board.”
I am in a hospital. And according to the neat, blue handwriting on the board, my nurse’s name is Dorothy.
I try to look down, but I’m held immobile.
I groan in frustration.
“Hammer, chill. Let me get the nurse,” a voice calls out to me, a familiar voice. Who is here?
When a man comes to stand over me, his eyes call to me. As if in rewind, everything flashes in my head.
Mission.
Regulators MC.
Our team.
We are undercover as outlaw bikers, but we aren’t outlaws. We take down the criminals.
By any means necessary.
I took an oath. Brett ‘Ice’ Grady, my club prez, he took it, too. We are in this together.
The girls. Did we get the girls?
I twist my face in discomfort as so many questions for why I’m in this bed race through my mind.
My brother Evan comes over and grips my hand. “The nurse is coming. She’ll get the neck brace off and untie your hands. You’ve sustained a serious injury and had surgery. They didn’t want you to wake up in a panic. They need to know you’re calm in order to take all this stuff off.”
I give him a small nod.
My mouth is dry. My tongue feels like sandpaper. I need water. This is worse than any mission we faced in the desert when we had to ration our water.
I smack my lips loudly then hear one of the guys laugh.
Evan holds an ice cube over my lips and runs it across the seam.
Ice chips! Seriously, I’m an injured man, and these fuckers tease me with one fucking piece of ice?
My face must show my annoyance because Evan smiles.
“Hang in there. Once they clear you, they will give you more options. Go slowly this time, brother.”
A nurse comes in and removes my neck brace as she rambles off my bland diet and the step by step process of building me to solids. She puts some medication in my IV without a second thought, as if this is all second nature to her. Well, it may be for her, but for me, being helpless like this is a torture worse than any terrorist could ever give me.
After she releases my wrists, I happily move my arms and twist my head to the obnoxious machine keeping up with my heart beat, blood pressure, and oxygen rate.
“Mr. McCoy, the doctor will be in shortly to go over your injuries with you. Until then, I imagine your mouth is dry. As I stated previously, at this time, you can only have ice chips to give you some moisture.”
I nod my understanding as I take a mental assessment of my body. My legs. The pain is from my lower half.
I’m starting to move the blanket when Evan’s firm hand comes down to stop me. He shakes his head, and I lay my head back against the pillow in frustration.
A few moments later, a silver-haired doctor enters my room and begins his assessment.
“Mr. McCoy,” he begins in his obnoxiously high-pitched voice that only grates on my nerves further. “You suffered superficial lacerations and quite a bit of bruising. After x-rays, we found you had an intertrochanteric fracture, which in simple terms, means you have a severe hip fracture between the neck of your femur and the lower jutting bone we call the lesser trochanter. The lesser trochanter is important because it serves as an attachment point for a vital muscle in your hip. This sort of fracture can cause life-threatening complications.
“You underwent an extensive surgery to repair the damage to your hips and the torn muscle. We had to insert a compression hip screw to secure your hip bones back into proper placement. It is my understanding you were hit by a car that pinned you to a concrete wall. From the way you came in and the damage inside, honestly, Mr. McCoy, you’re lucky to be alive and that we were able to repair your hip at all. If, after physical therapy, you are still unable to walk, we might have to go back in and give you a complete hip replacement. You have a long road ahead of you, but you are young, fit, and healthy, so it looks promising for you to walk again.”
Promising? Did he just say it looks promising for me to walk again?
~Desirae~
Waking up to the morning dew resting over my now aching body, I sigh. My night was spent restlessly waking to every noise in the woods. However, I couldn’t bring myself to move.
Fear.
Sadness.
Anger.
Desperation.
All of these emotions held me still. I have no way out. They know I saw them. I saw what they did to her. To my sister, my precious baby sister. They know I can identify them. I can testify. I’m a liability.
What the hell am I going to do?
Slowly, I stand and stretch, feeling helpless. Then I take in my surroundings and find my direction. By now, they have found my car.
Knowing I can’t go back to it, I set my mind to the local direction and head out, knowing the forest comes out along two different highways. I can come out on Highway 24 and get to a gas station to call Tank or come out on Highway 58 and make my way to Haywood’s Landing without issue.
The walk is long, and my body aches, but I push through my discomfort and make my way to a boat ramp rather than the highways I was hoping for.
Apparently, I shouldn’t be on a survival challenge. I would most definitely fail.
Dawn is just breaking as two old men drop their boats in the river. I see their gaze hit mine, and I blink. After taking what feels like one long look at me, they rush over.
I can’t imagine the thoughts in their heads as they see the scraped up mess of a woman I am right now. My hair is wild around my face, my body is weak, and my eyes are swollen from
crying. I’m sure I have tear streaks and dirt running down my cheeks as well as the scratches covering every piece of exposed skin.
“What’s your name? We need to call you an ambulance,” one of them says immediately.
Fear grips me. “No, I just need to call my friend for a ride.” My mind isn’t thinking rationally. My single thought is of the Hellions. I don’t feel safe, and I know they will protect me.
I don’t know anything about the two men who killed my Suzie. What if they have someone at the police station who works for them? What if they are waiting for me to end up at the hospital?
My sister! I gasp.
I need to call the police so they can get her body, but then I have to answer questions. I need help. I need to calm down and think this all through. In order to do that, though, I need to feel safe.
The other man reaches in his overall pocket and hands me his cell phone. “Call your people, girl. Then we’ll getcha to the hospital.” He spits his chewing tobacco out on the ground next to me as I take his phone with shaking hands.
I call the one person I know I can trust in this situation.
“Tank,” he barks into the phone.
“It’s Des. Come and get me,” I whisper.
“Where ya at? What the fuck happened?”
“I’m in Croatan. I’ll explain when you get here.” I rattle off the name of the boat ramp, fighting to keep my emotions at bay, knowing I won’t be alone soon.
“Don’t move. I’m on my way.”
I fold the old flip phone closed and hand it back to the kind stranger.
What takes less than fifteen minutes on a regular day seems to take an eternity. I can’t help looking around me, waiting for the bad guys to jump out and get me, while the two fishermen watch me intently before the first one goes to his truck and comes back with a sweatshirt.
“Put this on.” he tosses it to me. “You’re shaking something fierce.”
The rumble of the Harley hits my ears, and tears fill my eyes. Tank pulls up, and the two old guys actually move to stand in front of me as a sign of protection. I almost laugh … almost.
“He’s here for me. Thank you.”
They both move back, and Tank looks at me cautiously as he cuts off his bike and drops the kickstand.
I’m over to him before he can dismount. He holds me in a one-arm hug as I sob on his shoulder. “Shhh …” he comforts. “You gotta calm down. Where’s your sister?”
I shake my head and cry harder.
He pulls away. “You’ve gotta tell me, Desirae. Where is your sister?”
Looking over my shoulder, I see the two older men have gone back to their boats, but they are keeping their eyes on me and Tank. I’m sure seeing the big, tattooed and pierced biker has a multitude of questions running through their minds.
“Suzie …” I choke out. “She’s … she’s…” I stutter, unable to control myself. “She’s dead, Tank. They killed her in front of me. They know who I am. They’re gonna get me next.”
He reaches up and grips the back of my neck tightly, forcing me to look at him. “Ain’t nothin’ gonna get to you. I know this shit is hard, but you’ve gotta tell me everything. If your sister’s dead, where’s the body? Why are you in the woods? Where are these guys? Why did they kill Suzie?”
With as much control as I can muster, I replay the events of yesterday and my night in the woods. He doesn’t move, only listens intently as if his own life depends on it.
After a few phone calls, Tank looks at me sadly.
“Sit. Roundman is callin’ the cops for us. He’s gettin’ us some guys we can trust. You’ve gotta tell them what’s goin’ on. Then I’ve gotta get you to the clubhouse to put you on lockdown. Do you need to go to the hospital”—he pauses raising an eyebrow at me—“and … umm … get checked?”
“I’m okay. Just scrapes. They didn’t catch me. My sister, though.” I start to sob again.
It doesn’t take long before there are a number of different law enforcement vehicles parked around me. I’m a little staggered to see the Cape Carteret Police Department, the Carteret County Sheriff’s Department, and the North Carolina State Bureau of Investigation all there, not to mention an ambulance and a fire truck. I know the fire department is there because they are first responders and have joined the search for Suzie’s body. What upsets me the most, though, is that the ambulance is there to check up on me. I would give anything for them to be there to take care of my sister because she was still alive.
An agent with the state starts questioning me with his partner. Typically, I would have to go to the station for this, but given my state of unease and the Hellions pull, we go over as much as we can from the car.
The detective Tank knows personally is crouched in front of the back of the patrol car’s open door where I sit on the back seat. They are all patient and kind as I am carefully questioned about the men I saw and the events that took place. Something about this tenderness only makes me want to fall apart that much more.
A half hour after they all arrive while I am again telling the detectives what happened, loud shouts sound from the woods. Radios suddenly crackle and bark with activity. It takes the sad look on one of the detective’s faces to figure out what has happened.
They found Suzie’s body.
I have told them three times now exactly what happened, how I used the tracking app to find my sister in the woods and how she died tied to the tree, naked and tortured. I know they have to ask me so many times because they need to make sure I’m telling the truth, but if we don’t stop talking about this soon, I’m going to fall apart in a way no one will ever be able to piece me back together again.
All conversation stops as the medical examiners leave their truck, carrying a long, black body bag toward the woods. I didn’t think it was possible, but my heart shatters all over again at the implications of that bag. Apparently in all my running around, some of it was in circles. With where I ended up so close to my sister’s body, I’m thankful I wasn’t found.
They are going to get my little sister’s body, and I will never be able to tell her I love her again.
“The hospital will most likely do an autopsy and toxicology. After they complete those procedures, they will want to know which funeral home to release the body to,” the detective says softly.
My head spins with everything: funeral home, toxicology, autopsy. The words bounce around in my mind like a ping pong ball. I never in a million years thought I would have to associate any of those words with my sister. She is gone and there is no getting her back.
I don’t get to say good-bye. I don’t get to hug her just one more time. I don’t get to hear her laugh, her voice, and more than anything, I don’t even know why.
Tank looks at me once all questioning is done and I am free to go. “This ain’t what you’re gonna wanna hear, Des. You’ve gotta let your parents take your sister back to Raeford. Let them handle it. These guys will be waiting for you to make the arrangements. We’ve gotta keep you safe.”
I nod my head yet don’t speak. I understand what he is telling me, but it doesn’t make it any easier to hear. I’m still processing the fact that my sister is dead, much less trying to even consider arrangements. He’s right, but it doesn’t make anything about this situation easier to handle.
“I sent some boys to get you some things from your place.” He shakes his head at me. “Only, it was trashed, babe. Sass has gone out to buy you some girl shit. She’ll meet us at the clubhouse. You okay to ride, or you want me to call for a car?”
“I can ride,” I whisper.
Numbly, I take the extra helmet from him and climb onto the bike. Once I’m situated behind him, he starts the engine, and the bike comes to life under us.
Placing my hands softly on each side of his hips, I relax as he rolls us forward before taking off.
One thing I have learned in my time with the Hellions is there is nothing more soothing t
han the freedom of the open road.
The wind hits my face, and I breathe it in.
Do you feel free from whatever you got yourself into, Suzie?
Chapter
5
~Hammer~
Healing. What a crock of epic shit.
I survived. I lived. I’m one lucky son of bitch.
They all remind me how fortunate I am.
Fortunate? What kind of life could I possibly live in this chair?
Confinement. Entrapment. Imprisonment.
Four months have passed since the mission that went FUBAR. I’m tired of looking at this cold, sterile hospital room and smelling antiseptic solution. At least I was asleep for the first two weeks. My body was too worn out to do anything more than eat, sleep, and poop, kind of like a baby. Well, that’s what I fucking felt like.
The last three and a half months, I have spent my waking hours listening to these gossipy-ass nurses talk about their daytime TV shows, which doctors are banging which nurses in the supply rooms, and how they are tired of cleaning up other people’s shit. Literally.
I have no freedoms. Hell, when people look at you and make wiping your own ass a milestone, your life is seriously fucked up. Yes, I can now wipe my own ass; check that one off the list, along with transferring myself from my bed to my chair.
My chair—those two words are a bitter pill to swallow. What some might consider freedom in the form of a rolling seat attached to two wheels, I consider a prison. And the irony is that, for the first time in my life, I’m stuck on two wheels that aren’t my motorcycle.
Yet, all these chipper fucking nurses keep reminding me of the amazing quality of life I can have as I continue to heal.
They don’t get it. They focus on all the little things I can do while my mind swims in what I can’t do.
What I can’t do is work. What I can’t do is walk. What I can’t do is run. What I can’t do is drive. What I can’t do is chase down a motherfucker. What I can’t do is shit!
I can’t even fuck.
Hammer (Regulators MC Book 2) Page 5
