I threw my backpack toward the stairs. It skidded across the gravel and clunked to a stop against the bottom step. “Is this about Goose?” Goose was a War Bird who’d been killed last week after a cop stopped him for speeding. I didn’t understand it—Goose was a good guy.
Mom looked over her shoulder toward the club entrance. “Not now, Ryker.”
Uh oh. She’d called me Ryker, which meant she was losing her patience. I looked toward the kids and let out a long breath. “Okay, but is this about the cop who shot Goose?” Officer Stuart had said Goose pulled a gun first, but that had to be a big, fat lie. Goose would never shoot the police. Dad’s words replayed through my head: ‘That cop has been targeting motorcycle gangs. His goal is to clean up Fury.’ Fury was a small dot in the mountains. The entire town couldn’t fill up the high school sports stadium. How much cleaning up did we need?
“Dad invited the Rebels over to discuss the growing tension in the area. He needs to get it under control before more people get hurt. I need you to help me out.” Mom put her fingers under my chin and closed my open mouth. “Take good care of them.” She didn’t wait but walked into the club. The club that would someday be mine.
“Hi, Hawk.” Using my nickname, Sparrow pulled on my hand. Her fingers were pink and sticky. “Want some candy?” She reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a piece of lint-covered licorice.
“Gross.” I yanked the candy from her little fist and tossed it toward the parking lot. “It’s dirty.”
“It’s mine.” She took off toward the candy that lay in the dirt.
With two giant steps, I grabbed her around her waist, swiping her off the ground.
The rumble of motorcycle engines stopped me like I’d walked into a brick wall. Pulling in front of the club were at least ten more Rebels. “Too many.”
I raced back to the playpen where Decker slept. Silas drew in the dirt with a stick, and I dropped Sparrow to her sandaled feet.
“Silas, watch them for a minute.” I’d never seen the Rebels up close, and I didn’t want to miss my chance.
He looked up at me with Dad’s eyes. Steel, gray eyes that said it all even before the words came out. “You’re supposed to stay with us.”
Sparrow stomped her little feet, causing the soles of her shoes to light up. “Yeah.” She looked up at me with the crazy cool eyes only she had. “You’re supposed to sit with me.” Her one blue and one brown eye begged me to stay.
“I’ll be right back. Stay here.” I crept to the corner of the club and wiggled the loose board just enough to slip inside the storage room. The place smelled like leather and sweat and anger, but I tiptoed forward and slid behind the stack of crates. I pressed my ear to the crack between the boxes.
Dad’s voice was loud and clear and calm. He talked about rival gangs, feuds, the sheriff, and what they were going to do.
I peeked over the crate of brake pads and counted the heads I didn’t recognize. There were twenty-five Rebels in our nest. This was epic. Never had there been so many enemies in one place without someone needing a doctor.
Something creaked behind me, and I swung around.
Sparrow squeezed through the hole. Little brat. “What are you doing?” I whispered. “Go back,” I gritted my teeth.
“No.” She said, a little too loud.
I slapped my hand over her mouth. “Shh. This is a secret.” I pulled her close. “You can stay if you can be quiet.”
She nodded, and I went back to my hiding place. She tucked up next to me, and we listened. Or, really, I listened while she peeled the stickers from the boxes in front of us. At least she was being quiet.
All the War Birds were there. Well, all but Goose. Kite, Dad’s vice president, screamed about being targeted. Some of the members paced the room. They reminded me of the time I cornered a stray cat in the garage. Its hair stood on its back while its tail twitched from side to side.
I’d once heard someone say, ‘The tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.’ I never understood what that meant until now. The air was thick like Mom’s pudding, and it was hard to breathe.
“Your problems aren’t my problems.” The rebel leader leaned back and crossed his hulk-sized arms over his chest.
“It won’t be long before it spreads to your club.” Dad leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “Can’t we have a truce between the two clubs until the problem with the police is under control? We don’t need to be fighting wars from every side.”
Mom crossed in front of me with a full tray of bottled beer. I ducked lower so she wouldn’t see me. Sparrow’s mom, Finch, followed behind, picking up the empties. I didn’t know her real name. No one went by their real name at the club. We were War Birds with names like Hawk, Raptor, Kite, and Vulture. The women always chose stupid sissy birds like Warble, Robin, or Sparrow. I looked down at the little bird next to me. She wasn’t so bad. She was like me—spirited.
The front door burst open, and a pair of cops filled the doorway.
Dad jumped from his seat. “This is a private meeting,” he pointed to the door, “and private property.”
The big cop, the ugly one, put his hand on the butt of his gun. “Just here to keep the peace.” There was something creepy about his voice. Something dangerous about the way his fingers scratched against the gun.
“Only peace here.” Dad spread his arms wide enough to stretch open his leather jacket and show off his War Bird belt buckle. The belt usually held his gun, but he carried no weapon today. He was in a room of enemies—unprotected. Or so it seemed. I knew Dad, and he no doubt had a plan.
Mom popped the tops off two beers and handed them to the cops.
To my surprise, they took them. I guess they didn’t have to obey the rules. They were cops.
Finch passed in front of us, and Sparrow sprang to her feet. I knew she would bolt toward her mother, so I picked her up and tossed her backward toward the broken panel. She stumbled against one box, knocking it down. The loud bang shattered the silence.
Everything changed in an instant. Guns drew and shots fired—lots of shots. Bullets flew through the air with the hiss of a mosquito, only a thousand times louder. Metal hit metal with the ding of a pinball machine. Wood splintered from the rafters above.
People fell to the ground in front of me. Sparrow screamed, and I grabbed her, crouching with her behind the brake boxes, and I prayed we wouldn’t be next. Prayed until my mom crumpled to the ground. “Mom.” Still holding Sparrow, I sprung from my hiding place and ran to where she lay in a pool of blood.
“Where are your brothers?” Her words, no more than a whisper, were hard to hear with the popping sounds filling the air. I crushed Sparrow beneath me and hugged the cement floor.
“Outside. They’re safe outside.” I reached for Mom, trying to find her wound.
Sparrow popped her head from under me and screamed.
Mom’s eyes grew wide. “Get her out. Save her. Save your brothers.” Her words slipped slow and wet from her lips. “Promise.”
The wooden beams splintered, sending chunks of wood flying through the air. Clouds of white chalk burst from the walls.
My heart exploded in my chest, and tears ran down my cheeks. “Mommy.”
Her head fell to the side.
“Mommy.” I was a man but cried like a child. “Don’t leave me.” I turned her face toward mine and wiped the blood that trickled from her mouth. “I promise.”
Her once bright blue eyes faded to the color of cold, gray concrete.
Bullets buzzed. People collapsed. Sparrow screamed and screamed and screamed. I swept her into my arms and ran toward the door, but hot fire shot through my shoulder. I stumbled. I fell. Blood covered the walls, the floor, the bodies.
I scrambled to stand, but my sneakers slid on the smooth concrete. I slipped and fell over and over again until I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. I was going to die.
Sparrow lay beside me, but she was quiet. Dead quiet. Blood see
ped across her yellow dress like spilled ink on paper. The bright sunflower pattern disappeared in the crimson pool.
I’d failed. I’d failed Sparrow. I’d failed my brothers. I’d failed to keep my mom’s final wish. “I promise I’ll never fail anyone again,” I cried. Everything turned to black.
Sneak Peek of One Hundred Promises
The afternoon sun sat warm on her back as Dr. Lydia Nichols stood on the sidewalk in front of the Aspen Cove pharmacy. She prayed for lightning to strike from a cloudless sky, an avalanche to trigger from a snowless peak, a myocardial infarction to seize her healthy heart and end her misery. Making sense of her life was like trying to eat steak with a straw.
Nothing arrived but a bee that sent her dashing down the street. The only thing likely to grant her death wish. How had her life gone from gold to lead in such a short period of time?
Out of breath and back in front of the pharmacy where the window sign flashed off and on with the red neon words The Doctor is In, she stared at her reflection. The smiley face pin on her navy blue scrubs reminded her she had once been happy.
She pulled back her shoulders and prepared to leave purgatory and enter hell.
Her mother always said there were three certainties in life.
Death.
Taxes.
Change.
She’d dealt with her share of death. Had paid enough taxes to pave the great state of Colorado. Now she was dealing with change. A change destined to kill her dreams.
At thirty-two, she never expected to be in this position. Four years of college, four years of medical school, and a three-year residency had prepared her to be more than a country doctor, but a relationship gone bad with the head of emergency medicine at Denver General created change—change that came in the way of no job, no boyfriend, and no prospects for either.
“You’re here.” Sage rushed out the door and threw her arms around Lydia’s neck.
“I’m here,” she said with the enthusiasm of someone getting a root canal.
“Why you wanted to show up and get straight to work, I have no idea. You should have taken a day or two to acclimate.”
Her little sister had taken to Aspen Cove like a fish to water. Sage’s life had come crashing down a year ago, but like the sun, she rose again. Lydia’s lunar eclipse hadn’t moved far enough to let even the tiniest fragments of light peek through the darkness.
“I’m not staying.”
“But you’re here for now, and I’m glad. Doc Parker will be glad too.”
She followed her sister into the small pharmacy. Calling it such was generous since it had nothing but over-the-counter meds or what the resident doctor finagled out of pharmaceutical representatives.
“How’s he doing?” Poor Doc Parker's health had been compromised during a recent fire. Although Lydia didn’t believe in fate, she couldn’t help but wonder if something larger was at work in the universe. Doc Parker’s need for temporary help came at the time Lydia needed a job.
“He’s still on oxygen, but his surly disposition is back so he’s on the mend.”
They weaved through the cold and flu aisle toward a door that led to the one and only examination room in the small clinic.
Folding chairs lined the wall. Three out of eight had waiting patients. Having visited her sister, she recognized the first in line as Louise Williams who was pregnant with her eighth child.
Lydia nodded as she passed and entered the exam room. The antiseptic smell was comforting. At least it was familiar.
“It’s a busier day than usual. Word got out you were coming to town, the books filled up for both clinic days. People are happy they don’t have to drive the hour to Copper Creek.”
Lydia peeked out the door. “This is busy?” Used to a city emergency room where no less than a dozen patients waited at any given time, a handful of patients were nothing. In Denver, people were seen by the severity of their needs as opposed to a blocked set of minutes. Payment came in dollars, not firewood and casseroles.
“It’s busy for Aspen Cove. The only busier day I remember was when the Williams family were here for vaccinations.”
Lydia checked her pocket for a pen. She unrolled her stethoscope and hung it around her neck and pasted on a smile as fake as her yellow pin.
“Shall we begin?” She looked around the small room and wished she could reach the two hundred miles to Denver and choke Dr. Adam McKay. This situation was his fault.
She glanced over Louise’s chart while Sage stepped out to get their first patient. Eight babies in nine years must be a record.
“Dr. Nichols,” Louise rushed inside, “I’m so glad you could come to Aspen Cove. We could use some new blood here and a female to boot. We hit the lottery.” She stepped on the footstool and situated herself on the exam table like a pro. Then again she was a pro.
“I’m not staying. This is temporary.” She hoped she didn’t have to remind each patient she was a fill-in while Doc Parker recovered.
“That’s what everyone says and they stay.” Louise looked at Sage. “Sage once said it was a dream of hers for you two to work together. Looks like dreams come true.”
While Lydia examined Louise, her internal mantra repeated, this isn’t my dream, this isn’t my dream, this isn’t my dream.
Fifteen minutes later, her second patient walked in. Not walked as much as shuffled. Lydia reviewed his chart. “Mr. Bradley, I’m Dr. Nichols, what brings you in today?”
“Tilden brought me in. Good lad. Good driver. Single. You single?” The old man took five minutes to go from the door to the chair. He looked at the exam table and shook his head. “Not climbing up there, that’s like climbing a mountain.” He plopped into the plastic chair in the corner. The metal legs creaked under the weight of his three hundred pound body. “I’ll stick to the lowlands. What about Tilden?”
“While I appreciate the attempted hookup, I’m not looking for a man.” Lydia tilted her head and gave Sage a what-the-hell look.
She wasn’t in the market. She was happily single. Not happily, but single. After Adam, she’d given up men forever—or at least for now. It would take one heck of an amazing man to earn her trust. Men were like Bluetooth. They connected to you when you were nearby, but searched for other devices when you were away.
Sage moved forward to take the old man’s vitals. “Ray here is our resident flirt. He’s sweet on the ladies and has been known to empty a flower garden if he likes you.”
Lydia walked to the man in soiled jeans and a flannel shirt. He was straight off a mountain man poster—a cross between a geriatric Brawny model and bear.
“I’ll never hear the end of stealing Bea’s flowers.”
“No flowers necessary, Mr. Bradley.” Lydia said. “What health problem brings you in today?” She skimmed through his file. For being a big man, Mr. Bradley didn’t have many problems. His last check up was six months ago and all was right in his world.
“I’m tired all the time.” He threaded his fingers through his ZZ Top beard.
“Other than being tired, do you have any other complaints?”
Sage checked his pulse and prepared to take his blood pressure with a wrist cuff.
“Ain’t that enough? I fell asleep at seven o’clock last night and missed my show.”
“Ray is a huge fan of 60 Minutes,” Sage said as she took down Ray’s vitals.
A huff of air separated his beard to show thin chapped lips. “I feel cheated because I only got about three minutes before I dozed off.”
Lydia looked thumbed through his record for a history of fatigue but found nothing. “Says here tomorrow is your birthday. You’ll be sixty-eight.”
“Well hell, no wonder I’m tired.” Ray rocked back and forth then pushed to his feet and shuffled to the door. “Thanks, Doc.” He moved out and down the hallway to disappear into the pharmacy.
Lydia shook her head. “That didn’t happen, did it?”
Sage laughed. “You’ll get used to it. Ray probabl
y needed attention. Few women his age live here in Aspen Cove. He had to check out the new doctor in town.”
“Should I be afraid?”
“Only if you wake up to find hundreds of flowers on your doorstep. It won’t be Ray you have to worry about but the owner of the garden he plundered.”
Sage wiped down the counters with disinfectant even though they hadn’t been touched. She was a qualified nurse, but Lydia couldn’t understand how working at a tiny clinic fulfilled her dreams. Then again, Sage had a sexy fiancé to ease the rough edges of small-town life. Lydia wanted more. She wanted a prominent job in a large hospital, a hefty paycheck to ease the burden of student loans and a man she could trust. Finding a unicorn would be easier than reaching her goals.
She marked Ray’s file with a note and placed it into the out-box on the counter. “Who’s next?” She went to the sink to wash her hands and get fresh gloves.
“That would be Bailey, she’s got something stuck up her nose.”
Weeks ago, Lydia triaged car accident victims and removed bullets from gangbangers. Today she was reminding people of their birthdays, examining a woman who had delivered more babies than she had, and her next patient was a kid who most likely shoved a bean up her nose.
She opened several drawers before she found a pair of sterilized forceps.
Moments later, little Bailey Brown bounced into the office with her pigtails swinging from side to side. She hopped up onto the exam table. Her mother stood next to her like a sentry.
Lydia lowered to a squat and came eye-to-eye with the little freckle-faced girl who had a heart-warming smile.
She saw lots of children in the emergency room. This wouldn’t be her first foreign object removal from an unusual orifice. It never seized to amaze her what people stuck and where.
One Hundred Wishes Page 21
