“There are four that are supposed to be here in less than an hour. Two more nurses are set to arrive later today, and one more tomorrow. We’ll open the doors tomorrow morning, but since you’re here so early, if you don’t mind, will you take stock of what’s here?” Iliana asked hopefully.
I nodded absently.
I’d arrived early because I’d had nothing better to do.
It’d been two weeks since the best hour of my life.
Two weeks since I’d spoken to him.
I’d sent multiple texts and called four times, but all of them had gone unanswered but one.
So, I’d gone about my life and quickly realized that I just wasn’t cut out for it anymore.
I’d changed everything, and it all centered around the one and only text reply I’d received from Ridley.
I pulled out my phone and went to the text message in question.
Freya (10:33 AM): My boss seriously just poured blood all over my clothes on purpose. I swear I’ve cried more in the last few weeks than in the last twenty-eight years combined.
Ridley (9:12 PM): Then do something about it.
So I did something about it.
I paid the houses off with my check from the shooting event, packed up my bags, and took Sharpy with me to a small town right outside of New Orleans.
I’d instantly regretted taking the contract when I’d arrived at the hospital in Slidell.
Not because it wasn’t a nice place, but because the hospital was in chaos.
Apparently, new owners had taken over the hospital, and with the new ownership, they’d changed a lot of jobs around, cut the pay of all the nurses, and had even cut quite a few senior staffing jobs.
Now all of the nurses were on a strike, and it didn’t look like it was going to end anytime soon, regardless of what Iliana hoped.
My phone buzzed in my hand, and I looked down at the calendar alert that’d just popped up.
Corey’s birthday!!!!
I felt sick to my stomach.
“Here’s the supply room,” Iliana continued oblivious to the fact that I was dying a little bit inside. “This is the linen room. And here’s one of three drug administration stations.”
I rolled my eyes at her not using the correct lingo.
“That’s a Pyxis,” I said. “Where are the other two?”
She pointed all the way across the hall at the very end near the trauma rooms, and then in the opposite direction.
The three Pyxis Medstations set up made a triangle formation throughout the room, and I nodded.
“Do our badges work yet?” I asked.
On she went, explaining this and that.
By the time I’d arrived back at my temporary apartment, courtesy of the hospital, I was exhausted.
Another nurse, Tillie, had arrived about an hour after I did. Together we’d learned, restocked and had a genuinely good time.
Tomorrow, though, the hospital was reopening, and I already knew it was going to be a long, hard day.
The hospital had been on divert for well over a week, and the community was in chaos without its ER.
The other floors of the hospital had been affected as well, but none anywhere near as bad as the ER had.
I looked at my phone, smiling this time when it alerted me about the party I’d planned for my brother.
I’d canceled it, of course, for obvious reasons.
But the idea of my brother realizing that I’d thrown one was funny, to say the least.
He hated parties.
He hated surprises even more.
And the image of the look on his face had the first genuine smile splitting mine in well over two weeks.
Sighing with exhaustion, I fell back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
It had brown stains on it.
Grimacing, I rolled to my side and stared out the window.
It overlooked a bayou, and about forty yards away was an alligator sunning himself on a log laying along the opposite bank.
Shivering, I rolled over once more to face the opposite wall.
The mirror on it showed my pitiful state.
I was a mess.
My eyes had bags under them, and I looked terrible.
***
The next week went off without a hitch.
I started working, this time with a bunch of people who I liked and who liked me back, and I never felt one ounce of frustration.
It wasn’t like high school where there were certain cliques that liked me and some that didn’t.
Everyone liked everyone else.
There wasn’t an ounce of turmoil.
We ran like a well-oiled machine, and I found that I really liked working this way.
If only everything was meant to be.
If only…
Chapter 13
The face you make before you sneeze. Yeah, nobody’s is pretty.
-Freya’s secret thoughts
Ridley
My first day back at work was back to the same old business.
I had a shit ton of work to catch up on, and my boss had a look of absolute glee on his face when I walked through the doors.
“What are you smiling about?” I growled, frustrated after a long night of little to no sleep.
“I’m glad you’re back,” he said, his eyes lit up with happiness.
He never looked happy. In fact, he reminded me more of a rabid badger at the best of times. To see him actually smiling meant he either had a really bad time without me and was glad I was back, or he had made a major bust.
I was betting on the former, seeing as I hadn’t heard about any busts in the paper.
“Got a huge bust,” he said, surprising me. “And I’m glad you’re back. The past two months have been fuckin’ shit.” Not surprising.
“What was the bust for?” I asked.
“Your crew’s been working with Randall and Leffron since you left, and they’ve uncovered a whole slew of charges from racketeering to prostitution. We’ve got nearly everyone but three of the main crew. Broke up the ‘try outs’ that were being held, and anyone with a patch on their back connecting them to the Collers was arrested. We have about ten of them in the hold still,” he said, standing up and adjusting his gun belt. “And I’m leaving for three days. This place is making my head hurt.”
I blinked, surprised.
“Okay,” I said. “You’re leaving it to Leffron then?”
It was a hopeful question, but I knew just by the look on the sheriff’s face that it wasn’t going to happen.
“You know me better than that,” he said. “Don’t call me unless you get shot.”
“What about if someone else gets shot?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Write the report and let the Texas Rangers handle it.”
Then he was gone without another word, leaving me with nothing to do but figure out just how much I missed the last few months.
***
By lunchtime, two weeks later, I was fairly caught up on the comings and goings of the department since I’d been gone.
It didn’t help that during that time my sister had had two more episodes, and I’d been needed to watch Emily all night long for two nights straight each time.
Apple had been called in by the National Guard for his mandatory two weeks of training that happened twice a year, and Kitt was left alone with Emily.
Which, in turn, meant that while Kitt slept off her episodes for eighteen hours, I was the only one left to care for Emily.
Luckily, he was now back and feeling terrible for having to leave them, giving me the chance to catch up on what was left of my paperwork.
I glanced at my phone again, brows furrowing when I saw that I still hadn’t gotten any more messages from Freya, but was distracted by the radio squawking at my side.
I gathered my things, about to head to lunch, when what was being said on the radio finally caught my atten
tion.
“Medics needed at the intersection of 805 and 43. Late model grey sedan with serious injuries. Two medics needed.”
I was moving out the door not even a minute later.
Our office was located about five minutes away from the scene of the accident, so it was likely that I would be the first to arrive.
The sheriff had made it mandatory that everyone in the station who would be responding to possible med calls knew at least basic life support procedures.
I knew more than most of them, but I was still wholly inadequate for what I rolled up on four minutes later.
The wreck was terrible.
I knew the car, too.
It was the woman from McDonald’s who’d said that she didn’t need a booster seat, and her kid was just fine in the front seat.
My stomach in a knot, I looked at the car, knowing whomever was in it was dead.
At least the person in the front seat.
There was no way they couldn’t be.
The backseat was where the front seat should be. The car’s front end was smashed all the way under the other car, curving until it looked like someone had just folded it nicely under like you would when you opened a sack of bread.
And the front seat was just…gone.
There was no other word for it.
It was crumpled into what was left of the car’s front end.
The volunteer fire truck was next to arrive on scene right after me, and we all got out at about the same time.
They knew, just as well as I did, that this was a bad one.
I was wary to walk up on the car, scared of what I might see.
“Driver’s dead,” the first volunteer firefighter, a man by the name of Alex, said.
He was at the driver’s side, staring at what used to be a person.
“Passenger’s gone, too,” another firefighter, this one was new, so I didn’t know his name. “Injuries incompatible with life.”
“As in his head’s on the ground,” muttered the third firefighter.
Normally, I’m all for joking around.
Firefighters, police officers and medics were a funny bunch.
They joked at inappropriate times. We had to—it was either we joked or we cried.
However, this time, I wasn’t feeling it. Knowing that there was a head was on the ground wasn’t making me in a very understanding mood.
Regardless, I walked around the man who’d made the inappropriate joke, Ollie, and looked for myself.
Relief poured through me at the realization that it wasn’t the kid who had died.
The mother, though, was a different story.
I knew that long hair.
I wasn’t sure exactly how it had happened, her being beheaded, but I knew it had something to do with the piece of metal laying on the ground.
“It’s like one of those ‘Final Destination’ movies,” Ollie continued to joke. “My God, at least it was quick.”
Yes, indeed it was quick.
They hadn’t felt a thing, it’d happened instantly, thank God.
“There’s a booster seat in the back,” the new firefighter called out.
Instantly, we all fanned out, all of us taking a section of the woods and walking in a circle around the area.
We all moved in a methodical pattern as we began the search.
More crew arrived and more joined the search.
I was only about five minutes into it when I found him.
The boy.
He was lying in a pile of leaves, curled up as if he were taking a nice nap.
And I prayed, oh God, did I pray, that he was okay.
My feet crunched on a stick as it snapped underneath my weight and his head snapped up as if he were a cornered cat.
“Justin,” I said, watching him. “Are you okay?”
He frowned at me.
“I’m lost,” he said. “You ate my pie.”
I wanted to fucking laugh just for the sheer joy that he was able to accuse me of that.
“Yeah,” I said. “I ate your pie. And I’m sorry. Can I go buy you another?”
He stood up, no pain on his face as he did, and crossed his arms over his chest.
“My mommy said you were an asshole,” he accused.
I nodded. “I was that day. I’m very sorry. My mother would be ashamed of me if she knew.”
She would, too.
My mother had been awesome, but when she’d died, all the manners that she’d gone through hell teaching me went with her.
My brother, sister and I were all heathens according to our father.
I blamed them.
“Will you get me two?” he pleaded.
I held out my hand and he took it.
Not satisfied, though, he tugged on my arm.
“Pick me up.”
Needless to say, I picked him up.
***
There was nothing I wanted to do more than to hold Freya.
My hands were still stained with blood, but I had no doubt that she wouldn’t be bothered by it.
She was a nurse for God’s sake.
I’d just arrived at her door when I realized it was too quiet.
Not even the quiet hum of the light was coming from the front porch.
Brows furrowing, I walked around the house, peeking in windows here and there, coming to the quick realization that Freya wasn’t there and hadn’t been in a while.
There were white sheets covering all of the furniture, and with a final look in her garage to confirm my fears, I realized she was gone.
My stomach clenched and worry started to form a ball in my stomach.
I used the same key that I’d used previously, going in her back door and taking a look.
My fears were confirmed.
She was gone, and I had no clue where she was.
I left the same way I came in, and instead of going home, I went to the clubhouse.
I didn’t bother to call. I knew where they’d all be.
Griffin was the first one to see me, and he stood so quickly he stumbled forward.
Wolf, Peek and Casten were on their feet next.
None of them fared much better as they stood.
The final one to see me was Mig, and he just stared at me from across the room.
He was the only one that didn’t look concerned, but only because he’d taken my call in hopes that he could find someone to take the little boy off my hands.
I wanted him to be in a good home, and Mig made that happen.
It was obvious, though, that he hadn’t shared any of that with the rest of them.
“What the fuck is going on with you?” Peek asked, his ‘fuck’ coming out more like ‘fook.’
His accent thickened every time he was emotional, and I winced, realizing that I’d scared them all.
I’d forgotten I was covered in blood.
“It’s not mine,” I said.
They all relaxed.
“Anything we need to clean up?” Griffin asked.
He was serious, too.
No condemnation. No nothing.
He was there for me just like I would be for him.
Simple as that.
“No,” I assured them. “But I need to find my woman.”
“Your woman?” Casten asked from his seat at the bar.
I nodded.
“Your woman? A real woman?” Mig asked.
I flipped him off.
“She didn’t tell me where she was going. I only know she’s gone,” I informed them. “And I need help finding her.”
“Why?” Griffin asked. “You told us you’d never have another woman. You also look wrong. When are you going to shave? Or get a haircut?”
I ran my hand over my beard, finding that I quite liked the length of it now.
It wasn’t short, but it also wasn’t overly long either.
It was a breath of fresh fucki
ng air not to have to have all of it just perfect.
Surprisingly, I had my brother to thank for that.
“I like it like this,” I said. “And I’m not going to shave. Now are you going to help me find my woman or what?”
“Is she?” Peek asked, eyes serious.
“Is she what?” I growled, frustration now leaching into my voice.
“Your woman,” Peek said.
I looked at him, then looked around at all the men of my club.
“Yes,” I said, confirming it. “She’s mine.”
And it was time to stop running.
She was mine, and ignoring her hadn’t been good.
I’d let her leave and didn’t even notice that she’d gone.
It didn’t matter that I was actually busy. I could’ve found time for her, but I hadn’t. I’d been thinking of myself and what a relationship might do to me.
I wasn’t thinking about her, and I hadn’t given her the time she needed in over two weeks.
But I was about to remedy that.
I just had to find her first.
“It’s good that you’re here,” Peek said, interrupting my thoughts. “Hanson Coller is missing.”
My brows furrowed. “What do you mean he’s missing?”
“It means he’s fucking missing,” Peek said. “Been off the grid for twenty-four hours now.”
“And you weren’t going to tell me?” I asked through clenched teeth.
“That was what the meeting was about, but you told me you couldn’t come,” Peek drawled. “Remember?”
I did remember.
Damn.
“I would’ve made time if you’d told me that,” I growled.
“Well, you’re here now. Let’s talk about what to do about the bastard and how to find him, then we’ll go find your girl.”
Peek’s words were much easier to accomplish than any of us realized.
And it made my heart stutter when I found out that the two of them were much closer than they should be.
Chapter 14
It’s Father’s Day, so thank a mother fucker.
-Not a Hallmark card
Freya
“Can you tell me how this happened?” I asked the man.
Dirty Mother (The Uncertain Saints MC Book 5) Page 13
