Renewed Rider: A Lost Saxons Novel #4

by Ames, Jessica

  Her expression is sympathetic. “Right now, he’s getting the best treatment he can. You need to let the doctors do their work.”

  This vague as hell response doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence, but I don’t get a chance to respond because I’m pushed through a set of security doors into the waiting area and left. A waiting area I recall from the last time I was here with Logan.

  That visit ended with me getting abducted and Wade getting shot.

  I close my eyes to those memories.

  I overcame my fear of this place by visiting Wade while he was stuck here after being shot. It had been a special kind of hell walking back through those doors, but I did it—with Logan at my side. Here alone while I’m having a panic attack about my grandfather dying is making it hard to jump down on old feelings.

  Heading over to a quiet corner of the waiting room, I try not to see flashes of the last time Wade and I spoke to Tap before we strode out of here and right into Wilson’s path. But it’s impossible. Memories assail me with each step I take and by the time I reach an empty seat, I’m a trembling wreck.

  Come on, Beth. Keep it together.

  My hands shake as I dig my phone out of my bag. I can’t allow myself to be triggered by every little event. It’s done, it’s in the past. Simon Wilson is dead and he’s not coming back. Dylan’s still out there and might be just as dangerous, but as of yet the man has done nothing. I can’t worry about the what ifs. I can’t; It’ll drive me crazy.

  I pull up Logan’s number and with unsteady fingers, hit dial.

  I wait for the call to connect. It rings and rings and rings.

  Shit.

  I hang up and redial.

  The same thing.

  This is not the time to be busy, honey.

  Hanging up, I clutch the phone between my hands as my mind races.

  Usually, I would call my father, but he’s off God knows where. I can call one of the other brothers. They will come if I need them, but it’s Logan I want. It’s Logan alone who can make this right for me.

  I think I’ll try Jem when my phone suddenly starts to ring in my hands.

  LOGAN CALLING.

  I fumble to answer it.

  “Lo?” My voice sounds stronger than I feel when I speak, which is a fucking miracle because I’m quaking all over as the adrenaline flees my body and the reality of what has just happened starts to set in.

  “Love, I’m sorry I missed your call. I was riding. I pulled over as soon as I could. Is everything okay?”

  “No, shit…” My voice breaks. “Logan. I need you.”

  “What’s wrong?” He sounds alert, concern and fear lacing his tone.

  “Grandad… I think… I think he’s…” I can’t bring myself to say he’s dying, even though I’m pretty sure he is. “He’s in the hospital.”

  “Shit. Kingsley General?”

  “Yeah. A and E.”

  “Love, I’m riding to you now. I’ll be twenty minutes at the most. Fuck. I’ll call the clubhouse, see who’s closer. I don’t want you alone.”

  “Okay.” I swipe at the tears brimming.

  I’m a Goddard. Goddards don’t cry.

  Fuck that rule. I can’t stop these tears if I try.

  “Darlin’?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you more.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  I’m barely holding my shit together when the main entrance doors of the accident unit slide open and Jem walks in, Wade on his heels. The waiting room seems to shrink back from the two men, who look like avenging angels in denim and leather. I don’t blame them. If I didn’t know these men, I would probably fear them, too.

  Both Jem and Wade are well over six feet tall, with Wade pushing at least six-five, and both are built like tanks. The fact they’re both wearing their kuttes, jeans and heavy motorcycle boots does not help their hellion image.

  Wade’s dark hair is still short although he’s letting it grow, but the current length shows the top of his gnarled ear—the one that was shot by Dylan. It’s ugly, but a reminder of the betrayal he suffered at the hands of men he called brothers.

  Jem’s the yin to Wade’s yang. His blond hair reaches his chin and the scruff covering his face makes him look like he stepped off the pages of Beowulf. He’s heavy set, muscled, and like his Club brother, covered in tattoos. Rings and leather cuffs adorn his fingers and wrists, while Wade is lower key, wearing just one simple leather band around his left wrist. Maybe one day soon we’ll see a wedding band on his left hand, too.

  To me, these men are safety and security. The bands constricting my chest loosen as soon as Jem’s eyes lock on me. I can see the question in them, the concern mixed with a hardness that would scare me if I didn’t know him so well, didn’t know it is fear reflecting back at me.

  Wade’s remain granite as they rove around the room, looking for any threat. I wonder if it’s fucking with his head as much as it is mine being here.

  Jem swaggers over to me as if he owns the place, the confidence seeming wrong given the situation, but it’s how these men are. They need to be seen to be unafraid of any threat, and I get the feeling he doesn’t know what threat he’s facing here.

  He stops in front of me, scanning me—searching for injuries, maybe?

  “What’s going on? Lo didn’t say much on the phone, just that you were at the hospital with Jimmy. Are you both hurt?”

  Ice fills my belly at the way he’s looking at me right now. Does he think this was something to do with Dylan? I shut that concern down immediately.

  Reaching out, I snag his hand, letting as much reassurance filter through to him as I can, even though I know he probably doesn’t need it.

  “I’m fine. I’m not hurt at all. It’s Grandad. He collapsed. I don’t know much myself.”

  I pull my bottom lip between my teeth to stop my mouth from wobbling. Great, I’m pretty sure I’m about to have a meltdown, which is the last thing I want to happen in front of either of these men. It’s mortifying. I’m not some weak little girl; I’m Logan’s old lady and I need to keep it together and not show him up in front of his brothers—blood or bonded. Yet, I’m trembling like a leaf.

  I fold my hands together in my lap in an attempt to hide my reaction, but Jem’s not an idiot; he’s known me my whole life, so he recognises I’m trying to hide my emotions.

  Without invitation, he pulls me into his arms.

  “Jem, I’m sweaty and gross.”

  “I don’t give a shit,” he tells me.

  He’s not quite built like his brother, so his hug feels different, but I need the contact. I snake my arms around his waist and bury my head against his chest, breathing in the smell of his aftershave and the leather of his kutte.

  “I had to do CPR, Jem,” I choke out.

  “Prophet’s strong, Little Bee; he’s going to be okay.”

  I close my eyes as I fist my hands into his sweatshirt beneath. “I hope so.”

  I can’t lose him, I can’t. Grandad means the world to me. I knew his emphysema was bad. That was obvious when I first came home, but finding him like that on the floor has really shaken me to my core.

  “Fuck, Beth. You’re trembling. Come and sit down,” he orders, breaking the hug and pushing me back into the chair.

  Jem sits next to me and then tugs me against him. It’s a brotherly gesture, one designed to comfort, and it does. My arm goes around his waist as he holds me and I let all my fears flow out of me as we sit there in silence, clock watching, waiting for news.

  My thoughts are havoc as the minutes tick by.

  What if Grandad doesn’t make it?

  Dad’s not here. What if he doesn’t get to say goodbye?

  What if my last memory of Grandad was pumping his heart back to life?

  “I need to let Dad know.”

  “Don’t worry about Jack,” Jem says quietly. “We’ll sort it.”

  “He’s off fuck knows where, Jem, while h
is father is dying.” My voice cracks on the last word.

  I don’t want to say it, to admit it, but it’s true. I’m pretty sure my grandfather is dying—if he’s not already gone.

  “Hey.” Jem pulls back and runs a finger under the tears pooling on my cheek. “Don’t talk like that. Jack wasn’t to know this was going to happen. He’s going to feel shitty enough as it is.”

  Ash settles in my belly as guilt gnaws at me. I have no idea why I’m so angry at my father. I guess I’m pissed off at him for running out, for leaving me when I needed him the most, but Jem’s right; I shouldn’t give him shit for it. Christ, I ran off for the best part of a decade, and Dad welcomed me back without question. I don’t know why I’m being such a bitch to him lately. Repressed childhood angst or something, who knows.

  I’m prevented from wondering further by Logan’s voice saying, “Love,” from the side of us.

  My head snaps up from where it’s resting on Jem’s chest and my heartbeat quickens as I take him in. He looks windswept, and I want to run my fingers through his hair to straighten it out.

  Logan moves to me and I find myself pulled to my feet and tugged against his chest. I burrow my face into his jacket, clinging to his kutte as I breathe him in. Finally, I feel relief.

  He lets me do this for a moment, lets me have this for a short time before he prises me free, so he can study my face.

  From the look in his eyes, he doesn’t like what he sees.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I am now,” I assure him with a wobbly smile.

  “What happened?”

  He pushes me back into the chair and sits, Jem making way for him so he can be next to me. Wade hovers nearby, but doesn’t sit. He seems on edge, which I can’t blame him for. He shouldn’t have come here.

  I take a shaky breath, trying to get my emotions under control enough so I can recount to the three men what I found when I got to my grandfather’s. I’m amazed by how calm I am when my insides are a giant knot of worry.

  “When I got to the house, he wasn’t in the living room,” I explain. “I found him collapsed in the bedroom. I managed to get him breathing again, but I don’t know for how long.”

  I glance down at my hands in my lap and Logan’s fingers move to lace through mine, his tattoos stark against my pale skin. “He’s in with the doctors?”

  I bob my head. “They took him through as soon as we arrived. I was shoved out of the way.”

  Logan glances up at Jem. “Call Mum, get her to ring around everyone and let them know what’s happening.”

  “Got it.” Jem ducks down and kisses my hair. “It’ll be okay, Little Bee.”

  Patches and old ladies turn up in dribs and drabs as they’re informed what’s happened and over the next twenty minutes the waiting room fills with Saxons’ members.

  Mary gives me a huge hug when she arrives, Mackenzie and Sofia, too. I try to keep my walls up, but I break down into tears as soon as I see them. So much for being brave.

  Everything around me passes in a daze, a whirl of motion that I can’t focus on. My thoughts are empty and cold. Waiting for news is the worst. I half-doze in a state of shock with my head against Logan’s shoulder, trying to block everything out until Derek finally arrives, Ghost on his heels.

  “What’s going on?” he asks, coming straight to me.

  “I don’t know,” I admit, feeling completely useless every time someone asks this question.

  I haven’t seen a single medical staff member since they took him away. I have no idea if he’s alive still.

  Clara and Slade are behind him and I find it hard to meet her eyes. Seeing them both together, especially when Slade’s arm goes around Clara’s shoulders, makes my stomach roil. I haven’t forgotten what her husband did to Tap.

  “Let me go and see what I can find out,” Clara says, and heads over to the reception desk.

  I watch her before drawing my gaze back to my godfather. Derek Chambers is a formidable looking man. His salt and pepper hair is kept short, and his goatee is neatly trimmed, unlike a lot of these boys who let their facial hair grow wild.

  He isn’t tall, nor is he broad, but he always seems to be the biggest man in the room. He’s also shrewd as hell, which is why I’m surprised he didn’t know Tap and Dylan were playing him. I’ve never known Derek not be on top of everything.

  “You doing okay, kid?” he asks, and the concern and sympathy in his expression nearly undoes me. If I had more tears to cry, I would be blubbering again, but I’m cried out.

  I shake my head. I should nod, but I don’t. “He needs to be okay, Derek.”

  He takes me from Logan, pulling me against his chest and I go without hesitation. I need the comfort right now. I need my family.

  “He’ll be fine, sweetheart, you’ll see. He’s a stubborn old goat.”

  He says this, but he didn’t see him lying on the floor, lifeless while I was pumping his chest to keep him alive.

  “Dad needs to be here,” I tell him.

  “He will be.”

  I pull back to look at him. “You’ve spoken to him?”

  “Not yet,” he admits.

  My fucking father…

  I’m stopped from answering by Clara returning, which is just as well because I’m not sure I could find nice words to use.

  “The doctor’s going to come over and talk to next of kin in a moment. Beth, I’m guessing with Jack not here, that’s you, right?”

  I have no idea how these things work, so I shrug. “I guess so.”

  Derek squeezes my shoulder even as Logan moves closer to my side and tucks me against him. Clara glances around as the doors open behind us and a doctor in scrubs comes through.

  “Here we are,” Clara says.

  The man is a little older than I am. Clara introduces me to him as Jimmy Goddard’s granddaughter before me and Logan are whisked off into a private side room.

  “He’s alive?” I ask the doctor, wrapping my arms around my middle as he shuts the door behind us. Logan squeezes the back of my neck, an unspoken message he’s here for me.

  The doctor’s gaze shifts to my huge man, a little uncertainty in his eyes before his attention comes to me.

  “We’re working to stabilise Mr Goddard.” His kind face is filled with sympathy. I don’t want sympathy. I want assurance.

  “What happened?”

  “He has pneumonia,” he tells me. “It’s fairly common in emphysema patients who are in as advanced stages of the disease as your grandfather is.”

  This information hits me like a wrecking ball to the guts. Logan tightens his grip on me to keep my legs upright.

  Advanced stages… shit. I know Grandad is poorly; I’m not blind, or stupid. I can tell he’s struggling, but I didn’t realise he’s that far gone.

  “Did he have a heart attack?” I question.

  “I don’t think so at this stage, but we’ll test the cardiac muscle and see what damage there is. I suspect the collapse was more to do with the pneumonia.”

  “I visit every other night. He has visitors all the time. He hasn’t mentioned feeling unwell.”

  The doctor gives me a knowing smile. “Older people often keep these things to themselves. They don’t want to be a burden.”

  This word kicks me in the teeth. “He’s not a burden,” I protest a little too vehemently because Logan squeezes my neck in warning rather than support.

  “I don’t think he is, but older people often think they are. We’ll do what we can down here, and as soon as he’s stable we’ll transfer him up to the ICU.”

  Intensive care. Jesus. Didn’t we already spend enough time up there with Wade? We should just open a wing here for the Lost Saxons.

  “Can we see him?” Logan queries.

  “As soon as they have him settled up there.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.”

  The doctor leaves us and Logan envelops me in his arms. I take the comfort he offers, ready to shatter into a million pieces at a mom
ent’s notice. How is this happening? How is my strong, cantankerous Grandfather heading up to the ICU?

  My mind is racing as thoughts collide into one another and I struggle to latch onto anything tangible, anything solid apart from the man in front of me.

  Logan strokes my hair, holding me close. He’s the only thing grounding me right now, keeping me from flying apart.

  “He’s going to be okay.”

  “Really?” I drawl at him. “Did you not listen to any of that?”

  “Yeah, babe, I did.”

  “He has pneumonia, Logan. He never said a bloody word to me. All week I’ve visited him and he’s not mentioned to me once that he’s feeling unwell.”

  “Does that really surprise you? Jimmy’s a stubborn old bastard.” He lifts my chin with his finger. “He’s going to be okay, Beth. He will. Believe in that.”

  I try to, but I can’t. All I can see is his body lying on the floor, pale, clammy, unmoving.

  “I’m shit scared,” I admit in a trembling voice.

  “Whatever happens, love, I’ve got you.”

  I drop my head against his chest. “I don’t think I’ll get through it if something happens to him.”

  “You will because you’re you. But you don’t need to worry about that, because he’s going to be fine.”

  He gently pulls my head up and kisses me. It’s a chaste brush of his lips against mine, one meant to soothe, to relax me, not to sear or scorch.

  My fears don’t melt away completely but I do feel a little less on the ceiling with him here, assuring me.

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Lo.”

  “You don’t ever have to find out, because I’m not going anywhere.”

  I close my eyes and nuzzle against him, hoping, praying like fuck my grandfather will pull through this, because if he doesn’t, despite Logan’s reassurances, I don’t think I will survive it.

  Jimmy Goddard has been an intrinsic part of my life from my first breath. I can’t imagine a single moment without him in it. And I can’t imagine walking down the aisle in a matter of weeks without him there to witness it.

  Chapter Fifteen