Night Moves

by Silver James

  “Breathe, baby. You gotta breathe.” The voice, husky and gruff, rumbled in my ear.

  I should have been scared and totally freaked out, but I wasn’t. For the first time since I could remember, especially since those scary guys came to my mom’s house, and I’d come to work at Chasin’ Tail, I felt safe.

  Without warning, I was picked up and shifted so that I sat in a chair, but still surrounded by warmth and hard muscles. Hardy held my arm while I was moved and it only hurt a bunch but not as bad as if my hand had been flopping around.

  My vision cleared a little more and I saw Hardy look toward the man standing a few feet away. The really large, gorgeous scary man. Who looked like he wanted to kill someone. I just hoped it wasn’t me.

  “Not sure Doc can fix this, boss. Probably gonna take an orthopedic surgeon.”

  “No. Nuh-uh.” I tried to pull away but the arms holding me tightened and I groaned when Hardy accidentally jostled my arm as I moved. “I can’t. Just wrap it or something. I can’t go to the hospital. No insurance. No money. Have to work. Money. I need the money. Please. Please?”

  I was crying. I could feel hot tears streaming down my cheeks. God, how did I get in this mess? My arm and wrist were totally screwed—which meant I was too. I couldn’t do my routine with one hand. If I couldn’t dance, I didn’t get paid. Didn’t get tips.

  I figured out I was hyperventilating when Hardy shoved my head down and that voice in my ear ordered me to breathe again. Other voices penetrated over the noise of my panting.

  “She had a knife. Lug Nut was bleeding.”

  The muscles behind me tensed like the guy holding me was going to toss me aside to go after that whiny voice. I didn’t blame him. Then I heard the smack of a fist on skin. My stomach jolted and I winced. I knew that sound. Intimately. My old man had been a mean drunk before he took off for parts unknown, leaving my mom, older brother, me, and two little brothers behind.

  “Fuck, Russki! What the hell was that for?”

  Whiny Butt’s mouth was back in action. I must have said something to that effect because the guy holding me chuckled. That laugh did all sorts of things to my insides, despite the fact I felt like I’d been hit by a train.

  “She is wearing a fringed G-string. You have worked the door for two months yet you do not recognize her as one of our girls?” The Russian’s voice raised goosebumps on my arms and I shivered. Which hurt. I whimpered.

  “She had a knife. She could have been working for the fuckin’ Hell Dogs.”

  “Get him out of my sight.” I heard scuffling and then the Russian turned to stare at me. “Hollywood, you and Hardy will take her to hospital. I will have Doc meet you at the ER.” He let out a disgruntled breath. “The police will have to question her. Lug Nut as well.”

  “No.” I tried to pull away and black spots clouded my vision.

  “Hold still, babe.” The voice I couldn’t see.

  “I can’t—”

  “You will.” There’d be no arguing with the Russian. “You will not have to pay. You belong to us. The Nightriders will pay.”

  Wait, what? I belonged to the Nightriders? No I didn’t. I just worked for them. As a dancer. Besides, I had to make money. More money. And fast. “But I have to work. Please…” I turned to Hardy, begging him with my eyes. “Can’t you just wrap it or splint it or something? I can go back to work. I can dance. Just not the pole. Not for awhile. But I’m going back to work.”

  “No.” I got hit with Dolby Surround Sound in triplicate.

  The next thing I knew, I was in the arms of a guy—the as yet unseen Hollywood I figured—being carried out the back exit. A black Hummer was parked there. Hollywood simply slid into the back seat still holding me. How strong was this guy anyway? And then a blanket was tucked around me. That was good. I didn’t know I was cold until I was covered up.

  “Talk to me, babe.” Hollywood’s voice was sweet and low but it was still an order. “Why do you have to work?”

  Hardy started driving. I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell. If I did, something bad would happen to my mom. Maybe even my little brothers. My big brother was just like my dad. Dad was a drunk. Larry was a drug addict. Mom gambled.

  “What do you need money for? You got kids or something?” Hollywood wasn’t going to let this go.

  “Or something,” I muttered but he heard me.

  “A man? You workin’ to support some sonavabitch?”

  I didn’t like the ice creeping into his voice. Or his insinuation. Like I’d put up with a lazy bum? “Oh, hell no. It’s my—” I clamped my mouth shut. Those men had been very explicit. I needed to pay them $5,000.00 a week for the next six months. If I told the cops, told anybody, they’d go after Mom and the boys.

  “Your who?”

  I shivered at his voice. “Nothing. Nobody.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Name?” What? I felt like I was getting whiplash from the change of topic.

  “Yes, your name. For when we get to the hospital.”

  “Oh.” I mean, not like he’d personally want to know who I was or anything, right? He was just doing…what? Guard duty? Delivery service? “I’m Lainey. Lainey Walker.”

  “Well, Lainey Walker, I’m Hollywood.”

  “Um, okay. Hi, Hollywood.”

  His arms shifted me a little in his lap and I found my head tucked against his shoulder, my injured arm snugged carefully across my tummy. And…held in place by a splint and an Ace bandage. When had that happened? I didn’t remember Hardy doing anything to me.

  “What’s gonna happen to Whiny Butt?” My voice was getting slurry.

  I heard Hardy snicker. “Who?”

  “Whiny Butt. Guy th’Russian hit?”

  I caught the look Hardy exchanged with Hollywood through the rearview mirror. “You don’t need to think about him, babe. It’s being taken care of.”

  I wasn’t sure I liked the implication, but I had another question. Maybe. If I could remember it. Oh, yeah. “Whassa hell dog?”

  Hollywood started to say something then cleared his throat before he spoke. “You don’t need to worry about them either, babe.”

  “M’kay.”

  I think I dozed off—or passed out—because the next thing I knew, I was still sitting in Hollywood’s lap only we were in a brightly-lit and very busy ER waiting room. I shifted position and whimpered. I felt a tremor run through Hollywood’s body, like he was the one feeling pain. Weird. He nuzzled the top of my head and told me to try to sleep. My whole body throbbed and I didn’t think I could, but the human body is funny. When pain gets really bad, everything sort of shuts down. I felt oddly safe so I quit fighting, closed my eyes, and passed out.

  Chapter 8

  Hollywood

  I WAS GOING fucking insane and it was just a matter of time before Hardy cold-cocked me as I paced by him. They’d finally taken Lainey back to an exam room. The nurse said something about X-rays. By then, Doc had arrived and he went to deal with the fucking ER doctor. Doc wasn’t a Nightrider, but he was a hellava medico and he knew about us. Well, those of us who weren’t quite human. We paid him big bucks to be on call 24/7 and he had a sweet clinic setup, financed by the club, that could handle one of us Wolves when we got too hurt to heal naturally, or any injury we needed to keep on the down low.

  I kept compartmentalizing things. Part of me wanted to head back to the clubhouse and kill that fucking prospect. Whiny Butt. That’s what Lainey had called him. Sounded like a good gawddamned road name for the asshole. The other part of me wanted to be in that fucking room with Lainey. The thought of another man touching her had my wolf tearing to get out.

  The outer doors slid open and my wolf snarled, but I leashed him when I recognized Easy and his old lady, Sam. Easy was an enforcer for the Nightriders and Sam was good people. She’d been caught up in the Hell Dog bullshit not long ago and had almost died.

  “I’ll go get coffee for everyone,” she offered and headed toward Ve
nding.

  Easy motioned me over and he, me n’Hardy huddled. “We might have a problem.” He glanced at Hardy and the next thing I knew, they’d moved close.

  My wolf was all kinds of snarly now. “What?”

  “We talked to Hoss. This girl doesn’t do privates.”

  I huffed out a relieved breath. Yeah, she was a dancer, but getting up close and personal in the private rooms was for other girls, not mine. I caught the scowl on Easy’s face, like I’d totally missed his point. “What?”

  “She doesn’t do privates.” He iterated each word. “Hasn’t ever done one. Why was she doing one for Lug Nut?”

  Fuck. Now I caught what I’d overlooked. Yeah. Something wasn’t right.

  “This whole thing is fucked up.” Hardy kept one eye on the exit. “How did those assholes get into the club? And why go after Lug?”

  “Maybe the girl was the target?” None of us had heard Sam walk up. She passed out cups of hot, black coffee.

  “Why would the Hell Dogs go after her?” Hardy asked Sam, beating me to the question.

  “Especially since she doesn’t know what the fuck they are.” That got three sets of eyes staring at me. “She asked me, in the Hummer, right before she passed out. Wanted to know what a hell dog was.”

  I didn’t like the look passing between Easy and Hardy. Doc pushed through the swinging doors between us and the exam rooms. I liked the expression on his face even less.

  “Somebody did a number on her wrist. Every bone, including distal ulna and radius bone fractures. I won’t give you the medical mumbo jumbo. Just believe me when I say she’s messed up. The ortho is taking her up to surgery. If she’s lucky, he can do a plate and screws instead of an external fixator. She’ll have mostly full function back in a year.”

  “A year?” Sam gulped. “For a broken wrist?”

  Easy shook his head but Hardy growled at her. “He crushed her fucking wrist.”

  Sam’s eyes widened. “One of the Hell Dogs?”

  “No. One of us.” I gave Easy a side look and he read my intent easy enough.

  “Russki’s dealing, Wood. You need to calm the fuck down.”

  Doc cleared his throat. “The good news, if there is any in all of this, is that she’ll be out of things the rest of the night. Cops won’t be able to talk to her until tomorrow. Everybody should just go home. Let her family deal with her.”

  My wolf didn’t like that idea, not one fucking bit. Have to admit, I wasn’t too thrilled either. “I’m stayin’.”

  “You aren’t next of kin.” Doc inhaled to give his standard lecture on the facts of hospital life.

  “Says who?” The fuckers here didn’t know anything about her. Or me. I was stayin’ until she was awake and I knew she was breathing. My wolf liked that idea a hellava lot.

  Figuring he couldn’t talk me out of it, Doc nodded and went back into the inner ER sanctum to tell them about me. Sam looked like she wanted to stay but she and Easy had two kids depending on them. “Get on home. All of you. Though if someone can bring my bike—”

  “Already done, brother.” Easy handed me the keys. “Sam brought her Jeep. She can take me back to the clubhouse then head home.”

  I could tell that decree didn’t sit well with Sam, but this was club business. She’d been Easy’s mate long enough to have that figured out.

  “Thanks for the coffee, Sam.”

  “Keep us posted.” Hardy patted my shoulder and I nodded.

  They cleared out and a few minutes later, Doc introduced me to a nurse and she led me to a waiting area deeper in the hospital, close to the operating rooms. I didn’t relax, all but jumping to my feet every time someone came or went. By three, when no one from her family had showed, I called Hoss to ask.

  “Finally got a call answered. By her little brother. What the hell a kid was doing awake at midnight, I don’t know. He had to relay messages to his mother. The old bitch said she was too busy to deal with Lainey. The kid, Levi, was crying. Asked if we’d take care of her, make sure she was safe from the bad men. The mother cut off the call before I could get any more info.”

  “Fuck, Hoss.” My brain immediately went down a dark path. Bad men were after Lainey? Maybe she had been the target. Or maybe, she was working with the Hell Dogs. Either way, I’d find out as soon as she was awake enough to talk.

  “Yeah, something’s rotten there, Wood. The club needs t’look into it. She’s not the type of girl we normally get workin’ here. I’ll check with the other dancers, see what they know about her.”

  “Keep me in the loop, and Digger will need to be updated.”

  I ended the call and gave up. My wolf was so upset I had to pace to keep him under control. Deep didn’t even come close to describing the shit that was raining down on the club.

  About ten minutes later, a tired looking guy in rumpled scrubs appeared. “You here for Lainey Walker?”

  Since I was the only person in the room, it didn’t take a genius to figure that out. “Yeah.”

  “Good news and bad news. Do you want the technical explanation?”

  “No. Give that to Doc Carson. He’ll distill it down.”

  The doctor gave me the once-over, eying the patches on my cut, my tats, and the glint in my eye.

  “Is she your…” He paused as if choosing the next word carefully.

  “She’s mine. Yeah.” His face went hard as he made the wrong assumptions. Pissed me off he thought I’d hurt her, but I was glad he cared. “Wasn’t me, Doc. There was an incident at the club. She got caught in the middle.” He arched a brow, waiting for more. I gave it to him. “The one who laid hands on her? Yeah, that won’t happen again.”

  “Okay, then. The graze on her face was minor. She might need a little plastic surgery. I had a colleague take a look while I was working on her wrist and arm.” The doctor rubbed one hand over the crown of his head, nudging off the scrub cap. As if surprised he’d brushed it off, he stared at the scrap of material for a few moments. Then he spoke. “That graze was from a large caliber bullet. She’s lucky to be alive.”

  My wolf was pacing, stiff-legged and pissed, just below the surface of my skin. Part of me wondered why we had such a vested interest in the girl but the rest of me felt exactly the same.

  “You don’t gotta tell me. We got there a heartbeat after the fuckin’ gun went off.”

  “She wasn’t so lucky with the wrist and arm. Your girl is in good shape. Strong bones. That’ll help. She’s healthy.”

  I caught the speculation. “Just because she dances at Chasin’ Tail, don’t mean she’s a druggie.”

  “Understood. She’s not. No trace of drugs or alcohol in her tox screen. But someone—” The doctor looked speculative again. “—did a real number on her arm.”

  Fuckin’ Whiny Butt was a Wolf. He’d twisted the knife out of her hand then stomped her arm and wrist, grinding her bones into the floor. The doctor’s eyes widened and he backed up three steps. I forced the wolf deep and didn’t quite meet the man’s gaze. Pretty fuckin’ sure too damn much feral was leakin’ out.

  “Sorry. Pissed off she’s hurt. Pissed off someone else is dealin’ with the asshole, but I need to be here.”

  The doctor exhaled, relaxing some. “I can tell you care about her. Her immediate recovery is fairly simple, but that arm will need months of rehab, perhaps even more surgery. There’s no insurance.”

  “She’s covered.” He started to speak again and I cut him off. “She belongs to the Nightriders. We take care of our own. Her bills will be paid.”

  “I don’t pretend to understand your lifestyle but I do believe you’ll take care of her. She has a long way to go to heal.”

  “When can I see her?”

  “She’s being moved to recovery. We’ll monitor her for an hour or so before moving her to a room.”

  “Private.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I want her in a private room.”

  “You realize the expense—”

 
“Just do it. Money isn’t an issue.” It wasn’t, and her security was. There was something wrong about tonight’s attack and about Lainey’s role in it. Until we figured out what, I was sticking close to her. Satisfied with that decision, my wolf settled down.

  “As you wish. I’ll make the arrangements. A nurse will find you here when Ms. Walker is moved to her room.”

  “Thanks, doctor.” I didn’t offer him my hand. He didn’t offer his.

  Chapter 9

  Hollywood

  MY WOLF KNEW there was in intruder before I did. I came up out of the chair, teeth bared and claws barely sheathed. The guy in the suit standing just inside the door was a Wolf. He also had a holstered gun and when his jacket moved, a bright, shiny badge stuck on his belt. Fuck. A Wolf cop. I wondered if the Russian knew.

  Lainey was finally sleeping. She’d come out of recovery about five a.m. I fell asleep about seven, after the doctor checked her again. He’d been optimistic about her getting full range of motion and mentioned her muscle tone again. He knew she was a dancer at Tail’s. I don’t think he was too impressed. Or hell, he might have seen her there and was as impressed as hell. I didn’t make it into the club very often. I had other things I did for the Nightriders, but the one time I’d watched her? Oh, fucking yeah, she could work that pole.

  Once I leashed my wolf, and evidently the cop did the same with his, we glared at each other. I motioned for him to step back into the hall. He stared and postured—fuckin’ alpha Wolf shit—but I was an alpha too so I didn’t back down.

  “She’s asleep,” I growled softly at him. “I don’t want her disturbed.”

  He held up his hands at that and backed out. I followed, and partially closed the door behind me. If Lainey woke up, I’d be at her side in a flash. Crossing my arms over my chest, I leaned a shoulder against the door jamb and stared at the cop. He stared back.

  After a long stand-off, he reached in his hip pocket and pulled out an ID case. He flashed it. “Derek Alexander, Homeland Security.”