I look at my clock and am surprised to see that it’s well after noon. The voice calls out my name again, but I don’t recognize it. I make my way downstairs and come face-to-face with Kyle’s father.
“Mr. Clark?” I say in surprise.
He’s standing in the living room, wearing a three-piece suit, as usual, and he doesn’t look like the kind, older gentlemen I remember. His face is all twisted and angry.
“You little cunt,” he growls.
“Wh-What?” I gasp, taking a step back.
I don’t get far.
He reaches out for me and I fall, my head landing with a loud crack on the hardwood floor. The face I see right in front of my eyes, looming over me before darkness takes over, is an exact replica, except older, of Kyle—right before he would hit me.
Fuck.
I’m exhausted.
I head home, hoping that Mary-Anne has made something for dinner. I’m drained and hungry. I spent all day long playing phone tag with both Fury and Torch, of all people.
Torch came here tonight, a transfer of sorts. I had to call church and make sure it was cool to bring him in. Though I have the final say-so, I wanted to run it by my guys anyway.
Torch could just go nomad, but he needs brotherhood. I can see it in his conflicted eyes; he’s battling some demons, and he needs brothers around him. What he doesn’t need is to feel alone.
I had a room set up for his arrival, and I waited for him to show. He looked weathered, tired, but good. I don’t know why he’s here, all that Fury knew was that it had to do with his past. I figured it was finally time for him to exorcise some of his demons.
Now, after spending all day down at the club, I’m finally home. All I want to do is shower, drink a beer, eat, then fuck my woman—in that order. I walk inside of the house, and instantly I know—I just know—that something is wrong.
I make my way upstairs, reaching for my gun as I do, then walk into my bedroom. My body jerks to the side as I feel a bullet burn through my flesh.
It happens again, and my eyes search the room for the source. I find it and raise my hand to shoot the man who is standing in the corner. I pull the trigger right as he yanks Mary-Anne in front of him, holding her as a shield against his body. I let out a roar as my body falls, three more bullet’s entering me.
I don’t see if I hit Mary, I don’t see anything.
The entire room goes black.
I scream as my entire body jolts awake. There is a burning sensation that’s so painful in my shoulder, I can’t help myself. I can’t stop myself. I scream again.
“Shut the fuck up, you stupid cunt,” Mr. Clark growls in my ear.
I whimper but press my lips together and bite the inside of my cheek simultaneously, trying to keep from screaming out in pain.
“Look at your man over there. Fucking pathetic,” he hisses in my ear.
I open my eyes and look down at Max, who is face first on the floor. I whimper again and stare at him, unable to break my gaze away from his body, watching to see if his back moves up and down, watching to see if he’s breathing.
He’s so still, so fucking still that tears spring to my eyes. I no longer feel the pain in my arm. All I can focus on is the fact that it doesn’t look as though he’s breathing.
I twist in Mr. Clarks arms, pissed off that I don’t even know the uptight assholes real name, and I pull my good arm back and punch him in the face. He stumbles back in shock and falls down.
I take the opportunity to do what Bates always told me to do.
I straddle him and I stick my forefinger straight out before I shove it deep into his eyeball. I hook it inside of him, feeling the warm goo of his eye socket, and then yank his eye out.
He screams like a woman, louder than I even did, and bucks beneath me. Then I do it to his other eye before I stand up and stomp on his cock, grinding my barefoot into his dick, hoping against all hope that they have to surgically remove it after I’m finished mashing it with all of my leg strength, my adrenaline rushing throughout my body at enormous speed.
He curls into a ball on the floor, and I grab my cell phone, calling the only man’s number that’s in it—aside from Max and my brother’s. I call the Vice President of the Notorious Devils. I call Grease.
“Mar—.”
“Help, help, help! Max isn’t breathing! Fucking help,” I scream into the phone, completely and totally losing my shit.
Grease doesn’t even say a word. He hangs up on me and I roll Max over, tears falling from my eyes at how much blood there is around him, and how pale he looks.
Fuck, he’s going to die.
He’s fucking going to die.
It’s all my fault. Mine.
I knew what would happen to Kyle if I ran to any one of the Devils, be it Idaho or Cali.
I knew, and I did it anyway.
Not only was I scared, but I was selfish. I am selfish, and I wanted someone to save me. I should have saved my fucking self. Then none of this would have happened.
I hear the sirens and then I hear the boots that climb the stairs. I turn around and both Grease and West are standing in the doorway. I look up at them, holding Max’s lifeless body in my arms with tears streaming down my face.
“Holy fuckin’ shit,” West whispers.
Grease doesn’t say a word. He walks directly to my side and leans down right as the paramedics burst through the room. Without even a second thought, they run over to me and Max.
Grease drags me away, and I let him, knowing that the paramedics need to get to Max—need to try and save him. I lean my full weight against Grease.
“Don’t let him die,” I whisper tipping my head back to look up at him.
“He’s too stubborn to die, darlin’ girl,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around me. Then he curses. “Fuck, you been shot too?”
I nod my head at his question, suddenly feeling extremely light headed. Then I loll my head to the side and look over at West. He’s standing over Mr. Clark, his face twisted in disgust.
“I pulled his eyes out, and I’m pretty sure his dick will never be the same,” I say softly.
Grease follows my gaze as a second set of paramedics file into the room, right before the first set take Max downstairs.
“She’s been shot,” Grease calls out to them.
“This guy’s missing his eyes,” one of the paramedics calls out.
“That guy did the shooting, and this right here is a woman who’s been shot,” Grease emphasizes.
The paramedics look at each other before they take him in again. I notice when one of them see’s his cut, and then they both rush over to me.
“I love him, Grease,” I whisper, my tongue feeling heavy inside my mouth as my eyes roll into the back of my head.
“I know you do,” he whispers.
I watch as they wheel Mary-Anne away. Fuck, she tore this motherfucker up. Grease walks up next to me and cringes. His eyeballs are just hanging on the side of his face, and his hands cup his junk. I don’t even want to think about what she did there.
A third set of paramedics come up to collect this heap of disgusting, and walk out of the room, just in time for four police officers to walk in. There’s blood and shit everywhere, along with a gun. I glance at it, as does Grease, and it’s not prez’s. His is against the wall where his lifeless body was found, his woman clutching onto him for dear fucking life.
What the fuck happened here?
“What do you boys know?” one of the officers asks Grease.
“Not much. Prez’s Old Lady called me a couple minutes ago and screamed for help. When I got here, she was holding him, both of them shot. And the other fucker was slumped over here, eyes gone, and she said she smashed up his dick, but I didn’t check that out for sure,” he says with a shrug.
“Let’s collect the guns, then we’ll talk to the only three people who actually know what happened as soon as we’re able to,” he murmurs before shaking Grease’s hand.
I watch as th
e cops walk away, first collecting the guns, and then taking their leave. It surprises me; but then again, they’re bought and paid for. I suppose it shouldn’t.
“Let’s call the brothers and get down to the hospital,” Grease mutters.
We both pull out our phones as we walk away from the bloody crime scene. I send a text to a couple prospects to come and clean up the bedroom, thankful that I’m no longer one of them, but a real patched brother.
“Call, Ivy, too. Mary-Anne knows her, right?” Grease suggests, asking about his sister.
“Yeah,” I grunt before I call my Old Lady.
It doesn’t take us long to get to the hospital. The nurse’s station won’t tell us dick about MadDog or Mary-Anne. I watch as Torch, a brother who just joined our club from Cali, walks through the hospital doors. I’m watching, waiting for Ivy to come through those same doors.
“I called Mary-Anne’s brother and Fury,” he grunts before he starts pacing. “It’s a twelve-hour drive for them, so I need to send updates when I can. Heard anything?” he asks.
“No, man. The nurses won’t tell us a fuckin’ thing,” I murmur.
We sit for hours, and we wait. Ivy shows up shortly after Torch, and she curls into my side, trying to hold her shit together. She’s scared.
The police officer that was at the house shows up and tells Grease that the other guy is the father of Mary-Anne’s ex-boyfriend. He’s an attorney, and his son was murdered by a guy who was wrongfully convicted. He was the attorney that helped convict him. I try not to grin, knowing the whole fuckin’ truth.
“Why was he after her, though?” Grease asks, sounding serious and concerned.
“He called his wife and left her a message shortly after he took off, driving to get here. Apparently, he thinks that it all had to do with Mary-Anne; that somehow it was all her fault. He’s also been on anti-psychotic medication for years, and then just stopped taking it. When he did, she told us that he started doing bizarre things, one of them being these hallucinatory rants that he would go on,” the officer explains.
“So he was a fuckin’ nut?” Grease asks.
“Mentally unstable, Grease,” the officer explains.
“A fuckin’ nut,” Grease chuckles.
“I’ll be back. Call me if there’s any updates,” the officer says as he leaves.
“Fuck,” I curse.
“Crazy fuckin’ looney tunes,” Grease grunts as he sits down next to me.
We wait.
Then we wait some more.
Then we wait a little fuckin’ longer.
Then a doctor walks in, but he’s got news on the fucker who did this, so none of us really give a shit about that.
Finally, a doctor walks in and tells us that Mary-Anne is going to be good. Her wound wasn’t anything severe. She’ll have to be in an arm brace to keep from tearing her sutures up, but she’s going to be fine and can even go home in the morning.
Ivy and I go to her room and see her sleeping in her bed.
“I’ll stay here with her. I don’t want her to wakeup alone,” Ivy murmurs.
“Yeah, baby. You gonna be okay alone?”
“When you hear something, come and tell me,” she says gently.
I lean down and press my lips against hers before I walk out of the room.
We wait all night long. Nobody sleeps. We’re all on edge, waiting to hear about our president. When Fury, his Old Lady, Sniper, and his Old Lady walk through the hospital doors, a gaggle of fuckin’ kids trailing behind them, I know that it’s been at least twelve hours, and nothing. Not a fucking peep from the doctors.
“Where’s my sister?” Sniper practically roars.
“C’mon,” I motion, not hesitating. Sniper tells his woman to stay as he follows me.
Ivy is curled up on the sofa, her eyes watching the television, but she’s completely zoned. When I open the door, she jumps. Her eyes go from me to the big bastard behind me, and I swear to fuck she shrinks.
“This is my Old Lady, she’s been here the whole time,” I announce. Sniper grunts.
He’s completely focused on his sister. He can’t even tear his eyes away from her, and I don’t think he would ever even try.
“Thank you,” Sniper says as we walk by him.
“She hasn’t woken yet, but the nurse just left and said she looked really good, that she should wake up at any time,” Ivy whispers as we walk out of the room.
“He’s scary,” she murmurs, curling into my side.
“Fuck, yeah, no shit,” I grunt as we walk into the waiting area.
My eyelids flutter open and I look around, knowing exactly where I am. A smelly hospital. But I gasp at who is in the room with me. Bates stands up as soon as he hears me gasp, and he’s at my side in an instant.
“Fucking shit, Mary-Anne,” he rumbles.
“My arm hurts like hell,” I moan.
He chuckles before he presses a button. Then everything comes back to me and my chest starts to ache—Max.
“Oh, my god. Is he dead?” I ask with tears in my eyes.
Bates’ face goes soft, then he looks at me with pity and sadness, and I know that he must be gone.
“We don’t know,” he finally says. “Nobody has said anything yet. It’s been fifteen hours, and we’ve had no word.”
I open my mouth to say something, but a nurse comes in with a big smile on her face and a paper cup in hand. She asks me how I’m feeling as she hands me the cup with pills in it before pouring me another cup full of water from the pitcher on the table, at my side. Then she takes my vitals and informs me that a doctor will be in to see me shortly, but that everything went really well and it looks like I’ll be able to be discharged today. I thank her and she leaves.
“How have you heard nothing?” I ask Bates as soon as she’s gone.
“Nurses won’t tell us shit, so we wait for a doctor,” he grunts.
Just then, my doctor walks in and starts talking to me about my procedure. Apparently, the shot was very clean, and it looks like I’ll heal perfectly.
“Oh, and your baby is just fine. We did some blood work and an ultrasound,” he says as he turns to leave.
I stare at him slack jawed as Bates’ arm swings out and grabs his bicep.
“Baby?” he asks before I can.
“Yes. The fetus is fine. It seems to not have been affected by the trauma. You knew you were pregnant, didn’t you?” he asks.
I shake my head in shock, surprised shock.
“You’re about five weeks along. You should call an obstetrician and make an appointment to be seen and have everything tested again. But there was a heartbeat on the ultrasound machine, and your blood work showed your hCG was extremely high,” he explains. I nod. Bates releases him and turns to me.
“That old fucker knocked you up?” he asks with a scowl.
“Watch it,” I warn.
“MadDog knocked you up?” he says, changing his words around.
“We were trying,” I admit shakily.
“The fuck?”
“But we’ve only been trying a couple weeks,” I explain.
“Is it Kyle’s?” Bates asks gently, concern marring his features.
“No, no it’s Max’s, but we hadn’t been trying yet. So, yeah, shit. What if, what if he dies and I’m all alone?” I say as I start to sob.
Bates sits down next to me on the bed and pulls me gently into his chest, wrapping his huge arms around me. He holds me as I cry. No, I don’t just cry. I sob and I wail and I feel sorry for myself all at once.
“It’s all going to be, okay,” he mutters against the top of my head.
“You’re softer now that you have girls,” I whisper into his chest with a hiccup. He chuckles and then pushes me back a bit to look down on me.
“No matter what, Mary-Anne, this baby will be loved. This baby already has a huge fuckin’ family to love it unconditionally,” he grunts, sounding nothing like my brother, and yet, it’s him—softened by the number of women in h
is household. I also think, softened by the amount of love that fills his home, too.
“Okay, Bates,” I exhale. “Okay.”
A few minutes later, the nurse comes in and has me sign some paperwork, officially discharging me. I ask her about Max, but she just shakes her head and apologizes that she can’t tell me anything. I also ask about Mr. Clark, and she says the same. Then she tells me that she’ll get a wheelchair brought up to take me downstairs.
“I’m not leaving. I’ll be waiting to hear about Max,” I announce.
The nurse nods; then she informs me that they’ll wheel me to the waiting room. I almost, almost, roll my eyes at that, and Bates chuckles.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m being wheeled into the waiting room, a waiting room that is full of people, all Notorious Devils and their Old Ladies. Both Brentlee and Kentlee run over to me and help me over to a chair.
I’m wearing a pair of scrubs that my nurse so generously found for me, no bra, and socks, but no shoes. My pajamas were covered in blood, and honestly, I never want to see them again.
“Holy Shit,” Kentlee says as she gently wraps her arms around me and hugs me.
“No news? Nothing?” I ask, not caring about anything but Max.
“No, I’m sorry,” she says softly.
I don’t say anything about being pregnant. Bates knows, but I want to tell Max before I tell anybody else. This is something he wanted, this is something he was adamant about wanting, and I want him to be as close as the first to know as possible.
So we wait.
Then, we wait a little bit longer.
Finally, a doctor walks in, scrubs bloody, and a look of concern on his face. I know, I just know that Max is gone. Tears instantly fall from my eyes.
I couldn’t control them even if I wanted to.
Brentlee wraps her arm around me while I watch Kentlee and Fury walk up to the doctor to talk to him.
There is a lot of nodding, and low murmurs, none of which I can hear, and then the doctor walks away. My eyes snap up to Fury’s and he makes his way toward me, his face gravely serious, and I start to shake.
My whole body trembles as he crouches down in front of me. His hand squeezes above my knee and his eyes meet mine when he finally speaks.
Rough & Ruthless (Notorious Devils #4) Page 20
