by Lowe, Aden
Freak followed. "She's riding with him and I'll meet you at the hospital."
Neither of the men replied, but the one who climbed in the back with Buffalo gestured for her to climb in and sit.
Tanya's head spun with movement of the ambulance. The small enclosed space filled quickly with the horrible smell of the wounds, making her stomach churn. She had no time to concentrate on anything other than keeping her seat and not puking.
The ride to the hospital took forever, but finally they arrived and the EMT practically pushed her out of the ambulance so they could unload Buffalo and wheel him into the ER. They rattled off information to the doctor or nurse or whatever who met them and helped push the gurney into a curtained off treatment room.
Freak ran in from a different direction only to stop when an orderly barred his way. Tanya wasn't sure what to do or where to go so she went to his side. Several people worked over Buffalo and others came running, crowding in and doing their parts too.
After a few minutes, a young-looking man in blue scrubs came over to them. "You came with him?"
Freak nodded. "Yeah, we did."
The man opened a chart. "I'm Doctor Thompson. Can you tell me what happened to him? And when?"
Freak sent a warning glance her way. "He was stabbed and cut during a fight. I think four days ago—no, five."
The doctor scribbled in his chart, brows raised. "And no one thought he might need medical attention?"
A heavy scowl crossed Freak's face. "Have you seen his dick? Of course we did. He refused to come in."
"Uh huh." More notes. "And who administered the care he received?"
"How should I know? Some buddy of his I'm sure." Freak shrugged and for the first time, Tanya noticed he wore a plain leather jacket instead of his Saxons cut.
"Does he have any family we could contact? Some medical decisions might need to be made and he's unconscious."
"I'm his step-brother, she's his girlfriend. He doesn't have any other family."
He closed the chart and for the first time, looked closely at Tanya, but directed his words to Freak. "Okay, if you'll just have a seat out in the waiting area, someone will come get you when we know more." Just like that, they were dismissed.
Once more at a loss, Tanya waited for direction from Freak. A burning awareness sat in her mind, throbbing and waiting for her to act. For the first time since the Saxons claimed her as their property, there were people around her. People who might even be willing to help her and the other girls. And her muscles refused to move away from Freak, refused to let her scream for help, refused to do anything other than act like everything was perfectly okay.
Freak took her arm and led her toward the waiting room, while her mind raced with the possibilities. "Don't even think it, bitch. I'll cut your throat before you get the words out." He grinned down at her. "And I'll cut the throats of anyone you happen to tell."
The threat came as no surprise. She and the other girls were told the same thing every time strangers came to the compound, even if they were other bikers. Calling for help wouldn't be tolerated. But the idea of him going after any innocent person who happened to figure things out, that was new. And it made her stomach roll with dread. She couldn't take the chance of anyone else being hurt.
So Tanya swallowed the half-born impulse to scream her head off, and just gave a soft nod when Freak offered her a drink from the machine they passed. He guided her to a pair of seats in a quieter corner where they could still see the TV, turned to a twenty-four hour news channel. She sat and waited and sipped her soda and tried to keep her mind off the help all around her.
Used to spending long hours alone with no distraction, all the activity in the waiting room quickly wore on Tanya's nerves. Even though things could get wild and loud at the club, she wasn't usually in the center of it, or at least not for long. Mostly she got to clean up after, since most of the brothers had grown bored with her after she stopped fighting the sexual abuse.
A child on the other side of the bank of chairs kept whining and the sound felt like nails on a chalkboard to her already frazzled nerves. She fidgeted, trying to find a more comfortable way to sit. Beside her, Freak finished his drink and stared at the TV, unmoving, unaffected by their surroundings.
After an eternity, an orderly came out and approached them. "You're with Mr. Rawlings?"
Tanya just blinked, but Freak stood. "Yeah?"
"If you would come with me, the doctor would like to speak with you."
Freak nodded and pulled her from her chair and they followed. The doctor who'd spoken with Freak earlier stood making notes at a counter by the nurse's station. "You're Mr. Rawlings' next of kin?"
"Yeah. He's not married and has no blood relatives."
The doctor made a face like he didn't really believe it, then smoothed his expression out. "I have to ask, why did you wait so long to get him help?"
"I hadn't seen him since right before he got into that fight, and went to check on him. Found him like that and called the ambulance." The way he sounded, Freak had plenty of experience with lies and half-truths. Technically, though, he hadn't seen Buffalo since right after the fight.
"And you don't know who tried to care for him?" The doctor looked pointedly at Tanya.
Panic surged into her chest. What could she say?
Freak squeezed her arm and took over. "No, we don't. Tanya was away a few days."
He put the chart down. "Well, here's what we have so far. The injury to his thigh might not have been quite so serious, but gangrene has set in. We're not sure the extent yet. As for the wound to his penis…" he paused and shook his head, "I've never seen anything like that. We have a urologist coming in to assess him further, but I can say it isn't good. We might have been able to repair the initial injury without lasting damage. Whoever took care of him didn't do him any favors. That tube they put in, I'm assuming as an attempt at a catheter, caused incredible damage to the urethra and actually perforated the bladder. In addition, he has a severe infection, and he was given large doses of a strong narcotic, probably in an attempt to control the pain, so we have all that to deal with, too. We're doing everything we can to get control of the infection now, and he's headed for surgery. The gangrenous tissue has to be removed from his leg, and the bladder and penis need to be repaired."
"How long until we know more?"
The doctor shook his head. "Honestly, we're looking at a very complex surgery, if he can even tolerate it now. If you'd like, we have a surgical waiting area, or you can leave a number with the staff up there and they'll call you with any updates."
Freak took a deep breath. "Tell me straight, doc. Is he going to make it?"
Tanya's heart sat in her throat, as if waiting for the chance to jump right out her mouth, so she kept her teeth clamped tightly.
"He's in very serious condition. We just don't know right now what all we're looking at."
Could Buffalo possibly die? If he did, things would get seriously bad for her and the other girls. Sweat rolled down between her shoulder blades as she followed Freak to wherever they were going.
Chapter Eleven
When Trip made his move, Fabio slipped around and dispatched the second pickup truck driver. The two of them took cover there, closer to where the attackers had used all the cover near the protected truck. As they watched, one gunman attempted to move closer, giving up safety in favor of a better line of fire. One of the defending Hell Raiders easily dropped him.
The man lay in the dust and screamed, and one of his comrades darted from cover in a rescue attempt. The hero quickly joined his buddy on the ground, his own blood spilling. That brought the number of attackers down to six. Were they ready to die for whatever was in that trailer? The wounded men on the ground hopefully served to make them consider their next moves carefully.
In the meantime, Trip had no intention of backing off. They had a very limited window of opportunity before law enforcement arrived. Log books be damned, they had to be out
of that fucking lot before cop tires touched it.
"We need to end this shit fast and roll."
Fabio nodded. "Yeah. Everybody's ready to move. Driver's awake and behind the wheel already. Ryker's on the roof, ready to pick them off."
Trip let his shoulders relax just a little with relief. Fabio always had things on the ball to keep them safe and whole. That's why he was Road Captain.
A single shot rang out from the building, and one of the attackers dropped. The effect was immediate. The men exchanged looks, abandoned cover and raced for the vehicles they arrived in. The first to reach the nearest pickup truck cursed, dragged the dead driver from behind the wheel and climbed in.
"Take them out? Or leave them alive to deliver a message?" Fabio's question rang across the lot, and the running men heard loud and clear.
Trip stepped from behind the truck they seemed ready to abandon and approached the other. "I won't let any of you live next time. You tell your boss this load is not up for grabs."
The men nodded frantically and the truck's engine roared to life.
Letting them live was a huge risk. They could return with overwhelming force, or dog their trail, like coyotes pulling down stragglers and waiting for an opening. However, the repercussions of a war with some other organization outweighed that risk for Trip. He'd rather not get the Hell Raiders mixed up in some kind of mafia shit.
He stepped back and allowed them to leave, signaling the Raiders to mount up. "Surveillance cameras?" He directed the question to Fabio as the former Marine approached at a job.
"Taken care of. No sign of us or the truck being here. Hit that as soon as we rolled in."
"Good deal."
The men who'd been inside during the attack caught up as they reached the bikes. Ryker's engine noise already faded away as he continued his scout duties. Seconds later, the roar of the Harleys drowned out the angry cough of the big diesel engine as the truck started to roll.
Moments later, as soon as they were back on the highway, JJ pulled up beside him and held up a cell phone in a pink glittery case. Dropping it back into his pocket, he held up fingers to indicate he had fourteen phones now. Apparently he'd confiscated any phone he spotted during the attack.
"Good!" Trip had to shout to be heard. "We'll dump them when we stop next."
JJ nodded and dropped back to his assigned post, in the left lane and slightly behind the truck.
Trip resisted the urge to get them moving faster. The posted speed limit was sixty-five, and he stuck to the plan, keeping them right on the button. He might prefer to lay down miles, but so far, they'd had no attention, and he'd like to keep it that way. The mess back at the truck stop needed to stay there, and if they got stopped, connections would probably be made. Couldn't have that.
Rather than the dread he thought he'd feel at entering Saxons MC territory, something like relief hit as they crossed the county line that marked the edge of Buffalo's reach. At least local cops in that area understood business and respected it. State law might hassle them, or even Saxons, but they should be relatively safe for the next few hours.
Buffalo and his boys controlled a chunk of Florida, parts of Georgia, South Carolina, and Tennessee, and the planned route took the Hell Raiders right through the main parts. It was a big territory and the Saxons were known as brutal overlords. They made their money, at least in part, by extorting legitimate businesses and prominent citizens for protection, as well as drugs, prostitution, gambling and probably other activities.
An hour and a half into Saxons territory, Trip dropped back to Fabio's current position and gestured for him to pull over onto the shoulder. With only the noise of passing vehicles and their idling engines, Trip gave a quick explanation.
"I have to split off for a couple hours, make a courtesy visit. Keep everything tight and get them to the next scheduled stop. I'll meet up with you there. Get Crank to give Ryker a break from scouting if he needs it."
"A'ight, boss. Anything else?" Fabio leaned back a little, stretching in anticipation of getting back on the road.
"No, you know what to watch for and what to do." Trip gave the other man a mock salute and pulled away, his mind already on the upcoming visit with Buffalo.
Separated from the column, he let traffic flow around him the last few miles before the exit. A little over an hour later, he rolled up to the Saxons gate and found a chaotic scene.
Maybe a dozen bikers gathered in front of the warehouse and seemed to be in the middle of a disagreement. Several others looked on, but stayed out of it. Trip recognized several of the men but saw no sign of their VP, Freak.
The same prospect as before manned the gate and Trip hollered at him. "What's going on?"
The prospect looked at him but stayed silent. One of the men who stayed out of the argument strolled over. "Can I help you, buddy?"
The man didn't look familiar. Trip introduced himself. "My club is making a protection run, passing through, with Buffalo's permission. I'm just dropping by to see how he's doing after he got cut up."
"I'm the Saxons' Sergeant At Arms. Buffalo ain't here right now. I'll let him know you stopped by. Suggest you move your bunch straight through, no stops." The man gave Trip a decidedly hostile glare then turned his back.
Well fuck that. Trip persisted. "In that case, guess I better talk to Freak. He knows the details."
The Sergeant At Arms turned back. "Listen, motherfucker, I don't give a shit about your details. Get the fuck on out of here. Freak's busy."
Interesting. "Alright then, let 'em know I stopped by." Trip rolled away and circled around to get a look at the situation from the other side. If he got caught watching the compound, he'd be in a world of trouble, but they needed information. If a coup was in progress, they might need to make a sideways run and get the fuck up out of Saxon country fast.
In front of the warehouse, fists started flying just seconds before a sheriff's cruiser pulled up to the gate. Trip eased away, unwilling to chance an encounter with cops involved.
Could Buffalo have died from his injuries? Entirely possible, Trip supposed, given the kind of assistance he received. But if so, Freak should have control of things until it could be sorted out at the table. Damn. He needed a cold drink and some information. He headed back into the busier part of town in search of both.
The first likely place for either he found was a sketchy-looking gas station with a sleek low-rider in its single repair bay. Trip eased up by the door, wary as hell.
Inside the office/cash register area, a window air conditioner blasted icy air into the room. A card table and four chairs occupied most of the free floor space, allowing only a narrow walkway to the drinks cooler on one side, and the checkout on the other side. Two heavily tattooed Latino men in white wife-beaters sat silent at the table, giving Trip a blank stare as he rounded the table for the cooler.
At the register, a cute brunette in a cut-off t-shirt and painted on jeans smiled at him. "You back in town?"
Trip took a second look. "Do I know you?"
"Sorry. Thought I'd seen you at the Saxons clubhouse."
The bar girl. "Okay, I remember you now. I dropped by to see how Buffalo's doing, but looks like shit's happening over there."
She smiled. "Oh, it is. They took Buffalo out in an ambulance. Freak is fit to be tied. Him and that Tanya bitch went to the hospital with the Prez. I bet the place gets raided. I got out while the getting was good."
"Lying bitch." One of the men stood from the table, one hand behind his back. "Freak kicked your skank ass out. You need something, man?"
Apparently questions weren't welcome. "Nah, man, just grabbing a drink before I roll on." He dropped a twenty on the counter. "Keep the change, honey." In a deliberate show of bravado, he opened the soda and chugged half of it before turning his back on the men and heading for the door. "Sweet ride out there in the bay." He tossed the rest of his drink in the trash can by the door and took his time moving out.
A few blocks further dow
n, he found a small church with an adjoining cemetery. Perfect for a private call. He stopped and walked among the headstones and dialed Fabio to fill him in. It went to voice mail, of course, so he left a message and a promise of another update soon. The next call went to Kellen, and once more he left a message.
Moving again, he took a small detour through a fast-food drive thru and grabbed a burger and asked directions to the nearest hospital. He parked and sat on the curb to eat, contemplating his next move.
The sensible thing would be to meet up with the boys and get the hell out of Saxons territory before things got any more fucked. But, it made sense to get info while he could. If a power vacuum hit here, the Raiders needed to know. He needed to get a few words with Freak to sense how things were going to fall out. Of course, that need had absolutely nothing to do with the possibility of Tanya being with the VP. None at all.
Decision made, he followed the directions to the hospital and waited in the ER parking lot, watching the people coming and going. He needed a specific type of person to leave. He lit a cigarette and meandered around the edges of the smoke-free zone close to the building, waiting.
His patience paid off. A middle-aged blonde in scrubs came out, not paying much attention to her surroundings as she did something with her phone and walked fast for the parking lot. As soon as she passed him, still in her own universe, Trip glanced around to ensure no one else was near.
With long strides, he caught up to the woman and moved to her side and draped his arm around her neck. She stiffened with alarm. "Keep walking, baby and you'll be just fine."
"Omigod don't hurt me, please. I have money. I can give you money." She trembled and her footsteps started to falter as the words squeaked out.
Trip tried to keep his annoyance out of his voice. Scaring the woman further wouldn't help. "I said keep walking. I don't want your money, baby. I want information. No big deal. Now let's go to your car."
She nodded and seemed to pull herself together a little. "Okay. Just please don't hurt me. I have children." She stopped by a car. "This is mine."
