by Lane Hart
“Oh,” she mutters, her voice telling me she’s still not convinced.
“It wasn’t hard to figure out your last name since you’re the governor’s daughter,” I point out. “You are a nurse, right?” I ask, finally letting myself look at her face.
“Yeah, I am. I was,” she answers quickly with a shake of her head.
“Why did you give it up?”
“Long story,” Isobel says with a wave of her hand. “Why don’t you tell me what’s happened and where we’re going?”
“One of our brothers, Cooper, manages Avalon, a strip club the Savage Kings MC owns right down the road where that first explosion was. He was inside the club when this shit happened,” I say, waving a hand toward the smoke in the distance.
“How badly is he injured? Why aren’t they taking him to the hospital?” she asks.
“Shrapnel is all Reece said; and until we know who attacked us, it’s not safe for any of us to be in public. That could just make a hospital a target.”
“I’m a pediatric nurse. What if I can’t help him?” she asks.
“If you think he needs to go to the hospital, then we’ll take him to one out of state, or whatever we need to do,” I tell her. “Okay?”
“Okay,” she agrees.
“Gabe!” I yell to get his attention since he’s still on the phone, probably with his brother asking a million questions. “We need to get to the safehouse in Sandy Creek off of highway seventy-four,” I say while Isobel and I get our helmets on. “Tell Abe to meet us there too.”
Once he gives a nod, we hurry onto my bike and take off.
***
As promised, I have us rolling up at the safehouse in less than thirty minutes. I pull down the driveway and ride around to the back of the house to park my bike with the row of other Harleys hidden from view.
“You were taking it easy on me before,” Isobel says when she climbs off the back of the bike and stumbles. I jump off quickly and grab her arm to steady her.
“We weren’t in a hurry before,” I reply, removing her helmet and setting it on the seat to take her hand. “Come on,” I tell her, leading her to the back door.
It opens before we get there. Then Torin is filling it, his pistol already in his hand.
“Who the fuck is she?” our president asks with a nod towards Isobel. Reece must not have filled him in. He even puts his free hand up on the door frame to keep us out.
“I’m the fucking nurse,” Isobel responds before I can even open my mouth. She lets go of my hand and ducks down, slipping right underneath Torin’s arm.
His jaw gapes as he turns and watches her disappear into the house. Not many people would ever think about standing up to our president. Straightening, Torin faces me again as he holsters his pistol. Crossing his arms over his chest, his green eyes narrow and his cheek ticks in annoyance before he says, “Explain who the hell that was.”
“Her name is Isobel. I met her a few days ago, and she’s a pediatric nurse. Or at least she used to be, but she’s on a hiatus.”
“She doesn’t look like any nurse I’ve ever seen,” he mutters.
“I think that’s pretty much her goal,” I tell him, remembering her comment about her current look being a costume. “But if she can help Cooper…”
“Yeah,” he replies with a sigh, dropping his arms back to his sides. “Sorry. I’m just on edge since we don’t have a goddamn clue who the fuck blew up Avalon.”
“I know, I get it,” I tell him. “Did Reece tell you about Gabe’s shop?”
“What about Gabe’s shop?” Torin asks.
“Savage Ink blew up while Isobel, Gabe and I were standing outside of it. We weren’t hurt, but the shop is toast.”
“Goddamn it!” he exclaims before spinning around to slam his fist into the siding.
“It’s fucked up; but if anyone can figure it out, Reece can,” I assure him.
“I had hoped Avalon went up because of a gas line or some shit. Guess that was naïve of me,” Torin grumbles while cradling his now bloody knuckles.
“How’s Coop doing?” I ask.
“He was lucky,” Torin replies. “From across the street, we didn’t think it was possible for anyone to survive and hoped he hadn’t come in to work yet. But then we saw his bike, and there he was under a pile of debris on the backside of what was left of the building.”
“Fuck,” I grumble as I swipe the sweat from my brow.
“Peyton told Dalton that the ATF is all over this shit already, wanting us to answer questions, tell them who could’ve been behind it.”
Sighing as I inwardly cringe when I think of who may be to blame, I say, “And we can’t exactly sit down and turn over a list of our enemies without implicating ourselves in a fuck ton of crimes.”
“Exactly,” Torin replies. “Most of the guys are inside. The women and kids are heading back to the safehouse in South Carolina, which I absolutely fucking hate because we can’t protect them there. But Cooper was in too much pain to make it down to South Carolina. And there’s just not enough room here. Besides, we can’t take the chance of any of us leading whoever is behind this disaster home.”
“Right, yeah,” I agree after he finishes his rant. “Shit!” I yell when I suddenly remember I haven’t done my job. “I need to get a message out to the other charters.”
“You haven’t done that yet?” he asks incredulously. “Good thing the women all had each other’s phone numbers!”
“Sorry. I’ll do it right this second,” I tell him as I rush to get my phone in my hands, praying that there haven’t been any attacks in any other cities with Savage Kings charters. “What should we say?” I ask. “Just tell them that Avalon was blown up and to increase security on all Savage Kings establishments until further notice?”
“That’s all we can say right now,” he agrees with a nod. “You should ask them to report any other attacks in their area, and maybe mention that one brother was injured, but should make a full recovery so they won’t panic, thinking we’ve been wiped out.”
“Okay,” I say as I quickly type it all into an email and then send it to the entire Savage King list, which goes to around two thousand members nationwide. “There. Done.”
Chapter Twelve
Isobel
I don’t have to ask where the injured Savage King is. The crowd gathered in the hallway at the first bedroom is the dead giveaway.
“Excuse me,” I say to the dark-haired man covered in tats. “Coming through.”
“Sorry,” he grunts when he turns around and we’re face to face. Frowning down at me, he says, “Hold up. Who the hell are you?”
“Jeez, are you all this polite?” I mutter. “I’m with Sax and I’m a nurse, so do you want me to see if I can help your friend or not?”
“Sorry,” he mutters again. Not only does he step aside, he also shouts, “Get your asses out of the way! Nurse coming through!”
The rest of the guys in leather vests listen to him, making a path for me to squeeze into the room where a shirtless man in torn jeans is laying on the center of a queen-sized bed. He’s bleeding from the cuts and slashes on his face, arms and torso. When I’m by his side, his glazed over, pale blue eyes meet mine. “J-jenna?” he croaks softly.
“Ah, no. I’m Isobel and I’m a nurse. Can you tell where it hurts the most,” I say slowly and clearly before I lift his wrist to take his pulse. Only once the words leave my mouth do I realize I’m talking to him like a child.
“No!” he exclaims, jerking his hand out of my grip. “Jenna! Help Jenna first!”
I turn to look at the faces of the men standing around us to see if Jenna is here, and if I need to check on her first. One of the guys with a reddish-blond beard and sad green eyes gives a slight shake of his head. So either they didn’t find her yet or he’s delusional.
Well, that really sucks. And I don’t want to upset the guy even more.
Grabbing his hand again, I tell him, “Jenna’s worried about you,” I lie
. “Let me see how you’re doing so I can let her know.”
His confused eyes watch my lips and then he shouts, “What? What’s going on? I can’t hear you! Where’s Jenna?”
“He’s been like this since we found him,” the red bearded guy speaks up and says. “We keep telling him what happened, over and over again, and he keeps asking us and wanting to know about someone named Jenna.”
“Does anyone have a flashlight?” I ask when I realize what could be the problem. Then, I remember my phone is in my purse hanging across the front of my body and quickly pull it out. Turning on the light app, I hold it up to the injured man’s right ear and then lean over him to look at the left one. “His ears are bleeding,” I tell his friends. “I think his eardrums may have blown, which explains why he’s shouting and not able to understand what we’re telling him. He can’t hear us.”
“Fuck,” a buff guy with a shaved head who looks ex-military says. “Is it permanent?”
“I can’t say for sure. Sometimes after a trauma there’s improvement within a few days and some, if not all, hearing returns to normal. Sometimes there can be a significant loss, though. We’ll just have to wait and see.”
“What supplies do you need?” the military man asks me.
“An antiseptic solution to start cleaning out the cuts would be good. Gauze and bandages to cover them, a thermometer, and ah, an intravenous sedative or pain reliever if you have it?”
“I’ll see what Eddie has and have him get his ass over here,” the man tells me before he slips out and makes room for Sax to come in.
“Jesus,” Sax mutters when he sees his buddy. “Anyone see who did this?”
“Not yet,” Red Beard replies. “Reece said it’s a fucking ghost, for all we know. Just a man in a black hoodie that went into the club last night but never shows the cameras his face. No vehicle, so no plates either.”
“Oh shit,” Gabe, the tattoo artist mutters when he joins us in the bedroom. “A guy in a black hoodie wearing a backpack came in the shop last night,” he tells the group. “He asked to use the bathroom, and I was in the middle of a back tat, so I just told him to have at it. I didn’t even get a good look at him.”
“Goddamn it,” someone groans.
“He must have put a bomb up in the air vents or some shit,” another person opines.
“So far we haven’t heard from any other charters about similar attacks,” Sax tells the room when everyone goes quiet. “So at least there’s that.”
“Which means it’s personal,” the big, angry guy from the back door says when he comes into the room. Everyone’s attention turns to him, like he’s the one in charge, a man they look up to. “Someone’s coming after our charter, and we need to figure out who they are and how to stop them. Right now Jade has sheriff’s deputies stationed outside of the clubhouse, hotel and salvage yard. But there aren’t enough uniforms to watch all of our homes. All we can do is hope that’s all the destruction they planned for us.” Facing me, he says, “Thanks for taking care of Cooper. I really hope we can trust you.”
“You can,” Sax says before I can even reassure him. And even with everything going on, I can tell that there’s something he isn’t telling us. Sax has an idea who did this but wouldn’t tell me.
And I would have to be an idiot not to have a pretty good guess who it is myself.
Would my father risk killing people just because he doesn’t like the man I lied and told him I’m in love with?
Now I wish I had never asked Sax to go along with such a stupid idea with the sole intention of pissing off my father because it may have seriously backfired.
Chapter Thirteen
Sax
“The nurse is a keeper,” War says when we all head to the backyard to wait for Abe, our last member to arrive, so we can talk shit over as a group.
“You think so?” I ask, even though I already know Isobel is. My problem isn’t wanting to keep her but convincing her to stop running.
“Yeah, she looks like a woman who can roll with the punches. And it would be nice to have a nurse around twenty-four-seven.”
“No shit,” I snort. “But Isobel is a free-spirit. I’m not sure if she’s the type to settle down.”
Slapping his hand on my shoulder, he says, “Man, if Dalton can do it, anyone can.”
“Maybe so,” I agree since our brother was the biggest player on the planet until he met Peyton.
The roar of his motorcycle barely proceeds Abe as he whips into the backyard, having obviously sped all the way here. He’s off his bike a second later, throwing his arms around his brother before he even removes his helmet.
It was a close call, so I know he’s glad the kid wasn’t hurt.
“Who the fuck did this?” Abe roars when he releases Gabe. “Who the fuck tried to hurt my little brother? I’ll rip their fucking head off with my bare hands!”
“Chill, man. We don’t know yet,” Chase says when he goes over to calm his best friend down.
“Gather around!” Torin says. “This is a conversation that doesn’t need to be overheard.”
We all come together in a tight circle, like a football team huddling up. “I think it’s pretty obvious that we’re all thinking the same thing about who could be behind this shit today.”
“Russians,” Miles grumbles, causing me to release a pent-up sigh of relief.
The fucking Russians! Why didn’t I think of them? They have more motive to hurt us than an angry governor.
“We knew retaliation was a possibility since we couldn’t take all of them out without flying to the other side of the world,” Torin responds. “But honestly, I thought they would have to be insane to come after us with an attack of this magnitude. They’re trying to cripple us, hit us in our pockets.”
“I’ll kill every one of those Russian mobsters!” Abe declares. “How’s Cooper doing?”
“He seems stable enough to keep here. With Sax’s nurse, it’s safer than all of us crowding into a hospital,” Torin declares.
“Until we know exactly who did this, we can’t even go after them,” Reece says. “If it is the leftover Russians, they’re being careful, sending the one man in a hoodie to do the dirty work, which means our hands are fucking tied.”
“Goddammit,” Abe grumbles.
“I’ve talked to Ivan and he said he hasn’t had any problems, so it looks like we’re the sole focus, at least for now,” Torin informs us. “Hopefully we can get a handle on things and take them down before they do any more damage. Until we know more, no one leaves here alone.”
“What about the women?” Miles asks.
“Every Savage King in Myrtle Beach is going to be guarding them. We could bring in additional guys from Wilmington; but the more men we put on them, the more attention we draw.”
“MB has what, ten members?” Chase asks.
“Twelve patched and four prospects,” I tell him since I keep up with the stats on all charters.
“If sixteen armed men can’t keep our people safe, then we’re all fucked anyway,” Chase replies.
“Why can’t we be the ones down there protecting them?” Miles asks.
“Sure, Miles,” War says. “Why don’t we all drive right on down to the safehouse with a bullseye on each of our backs and lead these fuckers right to our old ladies and kids.”
“I don’t like Kira being away from me, especially when her belly’s getting bigger every day,” Miles huffs.
“Kira will be fine. The ladies will look after her, and she still has months to go, man,” Chase says. “None of us like having our women in another state, but we can’t be too careful.” Turning to me, he then asks, “How much do you trust this nurse of yours?”
“She’s the one in danger here since she was almost blown up at Gabe’s,” I point out defensively. “But since it’s only a matter of time before Reece does his digging and you find out anyway, Isobel has ties to the governor.”
Everyone goes silent, even the crickets.
&
nbsp; “The currently elected North Carolina governor?” Maddox asks.
“Yes.”
“How close of ties are we talking?” Reece whispers.
“Ah, well, he’s her father,” I respond.
“Motherfucker.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“Are you fucking serious?”
Various curses come from the mouths of every brother. “They’re not close. Far from it,” I assure them. “They’re basically estranged. We can trust her.”
When they continue to bitch and moan, I say, “Hey! At least she’s not a federal agent, a news reporter, or a fucking social worker!”
Dalton, Chase and War all glare daggers at me for calling out their significant others.
“Fuck,” Torin says as he scrubs his hands over his face. “You guys sure do know how to pick them.”
“Says the man who married the daughter of our enemy,” I throw back at him. “Look, we can trust Isobel, and it’ll be good to have her around to keep an eye on Cooper; right?”
Yes, that’s perfect actually. I can ask her to stick around to watch over Cooper until he recovers. It’ll be a great excuse for her to stay with me, and it’s in our boy’s best interest too.
“Fine,” Torin grits out. “But you have to take her phone from her and make sure she never speaks a word to anyone about what she sees or hears while she’s with us.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” I tell him just as Eddie pulls up in his tow truck, hopefully with the supplies Isobel asked for.
***
Isobel
“How’s he doing?” Sax asks after I’ve finished cleaning and bandaging the last cut and am pulling the sheets over Cooper.
“He’s finally resting,” I tell him, thanks to the pain meds Eddie, the older gentleman, brought me. “None of the wounds are very deep, but they’re ugly and inflamed, so there’s still a risk of infection.” Standing up, I remove my latex gloves, then toss them into the trash can one of the guys brought into the room. Turning to Sax, I brace my hands on my hips to give him a rundown on future care. “Someone will need to change the dressing on all twelve of the lacerations and apply more antibiotic ointment to them twice a day, as well as monitor his temperature every few hours for a fever. Then, once he improves enough to travel, he’ll need to see a specialist about his loss of hearing.”
