LOST KING: THE KINGS OF RETRIBUTION MC

by Alvarez, Sandy

  "I love you too," she says back.

  I help her into her Jeep. "Text me when you get there. I'm gonna run by the youth center this evening and help Liam with his bike, but I'll be waiting on you when you get off work. Don't leave until I get there to follow you home. Got it?" Grabbing the back of her head, I pull her in for one more kiss after she has fastened her seatbelt.

  "Got it," her nails dig into my scalp when she pulls me in and presses her lips against mine once more. This time the kiss is different. Deep and desperate.

  She pulls away too soon, leaving me wanting more. I stand outside and watch until I lose sight of her and Austin before walking back into the clubhouse.

  "Church," Prez announces just before downing the beer in his hand when the door behind me slams shut.

  Once we've all taken our seat around the table Prez speaks. "This shit with your car. It's not sitting well with me, his eyes cut to mine.

  "It hasn't sat well with me either, Prez. Something's truly fucked up with the sequence of events lately. First, my run-in with the fucker who put his hands on my woman. Second, we have to run him and his new-found biker buddies from town, then my dad gets shot—" I look around the room. "I don't believe my old man was shot by accident, and I don't think a poacher did it either. That message left on my car was personal." I let my words resonate with my brothers.

  "You thinkin' it was Twiggy? You think he's been holdin' a grudge against you ever since you fucked him up?" Reid's arm folds across his chest and he leans back in his chair.

  "He's made it known more than once he has a hard-on for my ass since showing his face in our town. And somehow, he made his fight their fight," I finish.

  Logan leans forward resting his forearms on top of the table. "From what we have learned about the Satans Reapers reputation, they don't need much coaching or reason to pick a fight with anyone. For them, it's more for sport than survival."

  Tension builds in my neck, and a headache starts to develop. Rolling my neck from side to side, I try and loosen my muscles. Every damn thing is linked. My gut says so. The problem is proving it when there have been no signs of the bastards for more than a week now. One of those motherfuckers messed with my family.

  "Here's the thing. We've had our men along with some of our known contacts in town keeping their eyes open and ears to the ground trying to find these fuckers. We've turned up nothing," Logan adds.

  I think back to my dad and where he was when he got shot. "What if these assholes went off the grid? We have a shit ton of mountains around here. It's one place they could hide. Plus makes it damn near impossible to find someone unless you know every area like the back of your hand," I throw the theory out there. It makes sense, and I don't know why I haven't thought of it before.

  Prez scrubs his hand down his beard. "If that's the case it would pose a problem for us. We don't have the manpower to send them trekking through the thick, dense woods around here. If they are hiding in the shadows of the trees, it makes it that much easier for us to not see them if we go in to investigate. What extra men we have are already keeping tabs on our women and children." The wrinkle on his forehead deepens while deep in thought.

  Doc, whose sitting alongside the wall shifts in his chair. "Jake, you still keep in touch with Ian?"

  "From time to time. I haven't talked with Ian in a few months," Prez leans forward. "I see where you're going with this."

  I, like the rest of the men, wait for him to divulge more, but he leaves us hanging. "Listen up. I'm gonna make some calls. For now, let's keep things as they are. We have eyes posted throughout town. The women have been instructed not to leave going anywhere without a brother with them, so I'm going to keep it that way. Quinn—," Prez pauses and focuses his attention on me, "Reid has a guy putting the finishing touches on security over at your parents' home. I advise you to let them know what's going on or I will."

  I nod my head in agreement. Knowing is half the battle. I fuckin' hate it, but they need to know our suspicions. I regret all this shit leads back to a grudge held against me.

  "Get out of your head, son. None of this shit is your fault. These fuckers were lookin' for trouble. It just so happens Twiggy took up with them," Jake deadpans. "Humiliating their Prez in front of his men added fuel to the fire." He adds rubbing his knuckles and grins.

  After a few moments of silence passes, the gavel hits the table. Most of the men head out towards their homes. Me, I head towards town riding alongside Reid because he's riding in the same direction since him and Mila still live downtown. We part ways at the intersection, him turning right, me turning left in the opposite direction heading towards the youth center. One thing about our youth center is they keep their doors open 24/7. They always have at least one staff member on site, because the need for help of any kind knows no timeframe.

  Pulling around to the backside of the property where the garage is located about twenty yards from the building, I park my bike alongside Liam's silver truck.

  The doors to the work shed are open, and rock music is playing from inside indicating he's been here for a while. I scan the area, and double check my surroundings making sure it's secure. Liam is hard at work when I walk inside, having already broken down the entire engine with every part neatly laid out on a clean blue tarp across the floor. "Shit, kid, you've been busy," I hover over him.

  "Hey, Quinn," he stands, turns the radio down and wipes his hands on a shop rag. "Yeah," he removes his hat, runs his fingers through his hair then places that cap back on his head. "I didn't have any other plans, so I've been here most of the day. By the way, thanks for coming," he says with appreciation.

  "No problem, kid. Let's see what we can get done before it gets too late." Working side by side we clean all the motor parts and start to reassemble everything. We've almost got it together when I peer outside into the darkness. "It's getting late. You wanna head on home? Don't need you to gettin' into trouble," I mention as I wipe my forehead with the back of my forearm.

  "Could you grab the gasket set out of the back of my truck real quick?" he asks.

  "You got it," I offer.

  Squatting, Liam bends over to inspect the motor parts we've assembled, and I pivot around heading to his truck parked outside, and grab the parts box from beside the fender wheel. Turning the box over in my hand, I inspect it making sure he has the right gasket for the bike, which is why I don't notice anything is wrong when I step back inside the shed—until it's too fuckin' late.

  "Stop right there motherfucker."

  Stopping mid-stride, I raise my eyes finding Liam standing stock still with the barrel of a gun pressed against his temple. The filthy fucker holding him? None other than Twiggy.

  "You done fucked up," I inform him.

  He laughs. Signs he's high as fuck on something evident by his dilated pupils and sweat beading on his forehead. His trigger finger twitches. Fuck. "Throw the piece I know you're carrying to the floor before I blow this kid's brains out."

  My eyes shift to Liam's. So far, he's staying calm, which is good. This guy is already unpredictable. With him doped up on something, it makes him more so. The slightest movement from Liam could cause the guy to react without thought. Tossing the box I'm holding to the ground, I slowly raise my hands. With my right hand I reach into the left side of my cut and pull my pistol from its holster. Keeping my eyes on him the entire time.

  "Don't fuck with me. Toss it. Now," he seethes. I do as he says tossing it to the floor, then use my foot to kick it, causing it to skid across the floor midway between us. I keep my hands up.

  "The kid has nothin' to do with this. Let him go," I keep the tone of my voice even and chill. His chin lifts, "your life for his. That's the deal. That's the only way he gets to live another day."

  There's no hesitation in my response, "deal."

  The prick whistles. Shit. I hear boots crunch the loose gravel behind me. I know it's coming yet I keep my eyes trained on Liam. His face finally showing a hint of emotion. His eyes
pleading with me to do something; anything but sacrificing my own life for his. I receive a sharp blow to the back of my head. I don't fight it. A boot to my knee sends me to the floor before the two fuckers haul me up, each holding my arms at my side.

  My patience is runnin' thin. "I'm not resisting asshole. Now let the kid go," I demand.

  "Tie him up," he orders, which they do by placing my hands behind my back. Several zip ties dig into my flesh. "On the floor. Face down," he orders, and I comply. He's smarter than I gave him credit for. He's made it much harder for me to try anything in this position. The other assholes snatch Liam and Twiggy strides over and kneels near my face and places the barrel of his gun against the back of my head. The others put a gag over Liam's mouth. He struggles against it earning a quick blow to the ribs.

  I clench my teeth as I watch them land blow after blow to the kids face and body. "You motherfucker, you gave your word you would let him live. My life for his."

  Leaning down, he brings his mouth close to my face. The vile stench of his breath making me want to gag. "I said he would live. I didn't say he would live unscathed."

  With every blow, I cringe. Lifting a cheetah pipe off the workbench beside him, one guy raises it above his head and swings, bringing the steel down—hard, breaking Liam's arm, leaving it to dangle in an unnatural position.

  Suddenly I feel a prick to the inside of my left arm. This asshole did not just stick me with a needle. My body jerks and immediately I try to roll away. Other than the occasional joint I've smoke through the years I've never touched any other drug in my life.

  His laughter grates at my ears like nails scraping a chalkboard. "Only the best for you my friend," he and one of the other guys sit me on my ass. I zone in on Liam's beaten body lying motionless on the garage floor. Blood covering his face. The gag still in his mouth. Passed out but still breathing.

  "You'll start feeling it in a second. You'll feel yourself levitate. It's fuckin' great," Twiggy tells me.

  I fight it. I don't know what he injected me with, but my vision starts to blur around the edges. I shake my head trying to clear my head. I'm finding it hard to keep any train of thought or even hold my head up. My whole body feels heavy. Like gravity pulling me into the ground trying to swallow me. The last clear-minded thought I have before completely being pulled under by the drug coursing through my veins is of Emerson.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Emerson

  Bracing my hands on the side of the bathroom stall at work, I stand on wobbly legs, wipe my mouth with the tissue in my hand and flush the toilet. Two days ago morning sickness hit me like a battering ram. And the throwing up is not just in the morning; it's all damn day. I wake up feeling like I have a hangover and the only difference is there was no alcohol or good time the night before to make up for feeling like shit the next day. When I step out of the stall, I'm startled when I see Christy standing by the sink with a worried look on her face. I didn't hear anyone come in, though I wouldn't have over the sound of my retching.

  "Emerson are you okay? That sounded pretty bad in there."

  Waving my hand, I amble over to the counter where I tossed my purse in haste a few minutes ago. "Yeah, I'm fine," I insist while unzipping my purse in search of the toothbrush and toothpaste I now keep in there.

  "Are you sure? How long have you been sick? Have you seen someone about it? I know how you doctors are always taking care of others, but stubborn as hell when it comes to taking care of yourself," Christy huffs crossing her arms over her chest.

  I know by her stance she's not going to let me off the hook. Christy is the most obstinate person I know. Working with children and teenagers all day every day makes her that way. Hell, I've seen Christy make some of the most arrogant, pigheaded doctors around here bend to her will a time or two when it comes to the kids she cares for, so I'd expect nothing different for someone she considers a friend. I wouldn't put it past her to drag me out of this bathroom kicking and screaming insistent I see a doctor.

  Once I've rinsed my mouth and splash water on my face making myself feel somewhat human again, I chance a glance at Christy. Yup, still standing there with her arms crossed and head cocked waiting for my answer. Sighing, I turn and lean my butt against the counter. "I don't need to see anyone. It's just morning sickness," I confess.

  The 'mom' look she had moments ago is replaced with one of shock followed by a full-fledged smile. "You and Quinn are going to have a baby?" she asks, and I nod.

  "This is wonderful news. Congratulations," she beams. "I have to say I'm shocked I haven't heard about this sooner. You know with Quinn's big mouth and all," Christy giggles. "I mean shouldn't he be on some rooftop pounding his chest and announcing it to the world," she says with amusement. I throw my head back and laugh because she hit Quinn's mark with that one.

  "No rooftop declaration of fatherhood yet, but he did waltz into the clubhouse earlier today and make an announcement to everyone there, and it did include the mention of his super sperm."

  Christy shakes her head and grins. "Why am I not surprised."

  Peering down at my watch, I groan when I see I still have a couple of hours left of my shift. I don't get off until ten o'clock. Quinn called me earlier saying he was working late with one of the boys from the youth center , but he would be here in time to follow me home. "What are you doing here so late anyway?" I ask Christy as I pull my lab coat back on, grab my purse and we make our way out of the bathroom and to the doctor's lounge down the hall.

  "I was on my way out when I stopped by the restroom. There is an eighteen-year-old upstairs who I have been counseling that just gave birth." Shoving my purse in my locker, I ask.

  "How is she doing?" I couldn't imagine being so young and having to face the kinds of obstacles some of these young people have today.

  "She's holding up. Had a healthy baby boy," Christy tells me.

  "Does she have any family with her?"

  "Yeah, her aunt is with her. The girl's parents kicked her out when she became pregnant. Her boyfriend bailed. She was living at the shelter in town when Lisa called and told me about her. I helped her finish her GED and got her a job at the grocery store. They have a new manager now, and the woman hired Violet on the spot. She even worked out a paid maternity leave," Christy adds.

  "That's great. Is she still at the shelter?"

  "No, I set Violet up with New Hope House, and Sofia has helped her get into an apartment along with getting her everything she would need for the baby. Sofia is upstairs with her now. They have become good friends, and she has been with Violet every step of the way."

  I found out weeks ago that not only did Christy know and work with Quinn, but she works with Lisa, Bennett, and Sofia. Christy is one of a few people who genuinely know how fantastic the club and their family is. Just as I am about to open my mouth to speak again, the door to the lounge burst open and Dr. Collins eyes land on me. "You're needed now Dr. Evans. Male approximately eighteen years of age was just brought in by ambulance. Suspected assault and is currently unconscious," he shouts.

  Jumping into action, I slam my locker shut and rush out of the lounge and follow Dr. Collins to curtain two where the EMT's and nurses are transferring the kid from the stretcher over to the bed. The first thing I notice is he's nearly unrecognizable due to the amount of blood and swelling that has taken over his face. I also know by the odd angle of his right arm that it's broken.

  After cutting away his shirt, nurse Kim goes about splinting the boy's broken arm while nurse Sarah takes his blood pressure. Dr. Collins starts his assessment of the boy's belly and ribs while shouting out a series of test he wants run on him. After checking the patient's heart, I use my penlight to check his pupils. With the patient's unconscious state and the dilation of his pupils, I suspect he has a concussion.

  "I want a CT scan stat!" No sooner do I get those words out of my mouth when the boy proceeds to vomit, and I roll him to his side to prevent him from choking. When I roll him back over, I see he
has his left eye open. He can only see out of the one since his right one is completely swollen shut. "Hey, sweetheart," I say in a soothing voice. "Can you tell us your name?"

  "Liam."

  "That's good, Liam. You're going to be okay. We're going to take you upstairs for a CT scan. That's where we take a picture of your brain."

  Releasing the breaks for the bed, I lift the side rail and begin wheeling him out of the room towards the elevator. "I'm going to stay with him," I say to Dr. Collins.

  "Okay, I'm going to see about finding his parents," he informs me just as I notice Christy waiting by the nurse's station. "Hey, Christy. Will you help Dr. Collins locate his parents?" I asked gesturing towards my patient.

  "Of course," she agrees walking up and suddenly stops when she looks down at the boy lying in bed. "Oh my God, Liam," she gasps.

  "You know him?"

  "Yes. I know his mom too. I'll call her now. Listen, I'll bring her to you when she arrives." Christy rushes out wasting no time getting on the phone.

  With that part taken care of, nurse Kim and I continue to the second floor for the CT scan. An hour and a half later I walk into Liam's hospital room where he will be staying for the next few days. The scan proved my suspicions were correct and that he, in fact, has a concussion and an Orthopedic surgeon has been by to look at his broken arm which will require surgery.

  Sitting in a chair on one side of his bed is his mom Beth, along with Christy standing behind her and on the other side is a police officer. Everyone stops talking as I enter the room. My eyes immediately go to my patient who under the circumstances looks a bit better and more alert which is a relief. Next, I meet his mother's gaze, and she returns a tired but polite smile. Then there is Christy. A pinch of guilt fills my stomach because she was supposed to have gone home hours ago, but here she is making sure this young boy and the family she works with are going to be okay. The woman works just as hard if not more than the doctors and nurses in this hospital. Lord knows she spends just as much time here.