She headed toward Len’s room, but Isaac came out of Badger’s room and caught her arm. “You gotta see Badge now, Tash. We’re losin’ him.” She turned back to Len’s door, and Isaac pulled on her arm again. “He’ll keep, Tash. Not sure Badge will.”
Where she was needed most, that’s where she went. Nodding, she let Isaac lead her into Badger’s room.
All the men’s wounds had been tended in some way; they were all bandaged, but Isaac had told her that hadn’t happened until they’d been about to head home. His description of Badger’s wounds, though, had not prepared her for what she saw when she cut the gauze away.
"Oh, Jesus. Isaac, what the fuck kind of trouble are you guys in?”
“Tash, just make him well. Save the condemnation for later. I’ll be back when I get those sick fucks out of our house. Then put me to work. But don’t let my guys die. No more. Fuck. No more.”
~oOo~
Tasha was exhausted and sick. She’d worked for hours, and her body ached. But her heart hurt more. They were all so hurt. She’d cleaned wounds and sutured lacerations and set bones and done what she could. She hoped it was enough.
Badger was by far the most injured, and the hardest thing she’d done was open his chest to set his broken ribs as well as she could. The girl—Candy—who’d been helping her had gotten sick when Tasha opened his chest, so Lilli had come in, and she and Isaac had assisted her.
He was hanging on—by a raggedy thread, but he was hanging on. Tasha was astounded by the will of these men. As she examined and treated their wounds, she knew that every one of them had beaten the odds to endure and survive. But they were all of them already overtaken by infection, and she’d filled them full of antibiotics and fluids and, for all but Badger, morphine. Badger was too ill yet for morphine; she needed him to feel pain. She needed the pain to wake him up. When he woke, though, he would need pain relief. Immediately and in quantity.
Once she’d ensured that she’d done everything she could for Badger, she left a restored Candy at watch and checked on Cory—still out. The sheet over her chest was wet—her breasts were leaking. Once the danger had passed and the townspeople had left, they’d sent a Prospect out for formula, so Tasha let Cory sleep—this milk would be compromised by the Valium, anyway.
She checked on Show; he was sleeping heavily, on his stomach. His chest had been badly injured, too, but not anything like Badger’s, and not anything like his own back and legs, which were latticed with deep gashes, turning his body into a gruesome, uneven checkerboard. His chest looked like someone had taken a garden claw to his pecs, especially on the left side—and, for all Tasha knew, someone had.
Shannon sat in a chair at his bedside. She still had Luke, who was sleeping on her shoulder.
With a nod to the baby, Tasha asked, “Do you want me to take him?” She whispered, loath to disturb Show—the sleep would heal him as much as the antibiotics and fluids.
Shannon gave her a sad smile. “No. It calms me to have him here. He makes these little sounds when he sleeps. Like tiny little snores. I don’t know why, but every time he does, I can feel a little more peace. Like there’s still hope that everything’s going to be okay, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.” She turned back to the door.
“Tasha.”
“Yeah?” She looked over her shoulder, her hand on the doorknob.
“I’m forty-two. What would happen if I got pregnant? Would it be bad? Would our baby be sick?”
Tasha released the knob and went to squat at Shannon’s chair. Luke stirred and sighed, and Tasha laid her hand on his small back. “There’s some greater risk of trouble after forty, and it’s usually harder to get pregnant, but it’s becoming more common. The odds, I’d say, are in your favor. But be sure to take care of yourself before you even try—take folic acid, eat right, do everything you can. I think it’s worth a try, if that’s what you want.”
“He does. I didn’t think I did, but…taking care of Gia when Isaac was hurt, and this little guy tonight, the way my heart feels. And almost losing him”—she looked at Show’s quiet form. “I love him so much. I feel like there’s just one thing we’re missing. One more thing to get everything right.”
Without thinking about it, Tasha bent forward and kissed Shannon’s knee. “You’re an amazing woman, Shannon. I think you’d be an amazing mother. I’ll help you any way I can.”
“Thank you. I’m glad you’re with us. I’m glad you’re with Len. He needs you. If he hasn’t said it, I will—I think he loves you. He’s been…different for awhile now. Happy, I think.”
“He’s said it. I’m still figuring out what it means.”
“It means you’re lucky, Tasha. Even in all this, it means you’re lucky. To have a man like these men…it’s worth everything. They’re good, Tasha. Tonight, that might be hard to believe, but it’s true. It’s worth everything.”
She left Shannon and returned to Len. Her man. He was her man.
His hands and feet were set—she’d had to MacGuyver casts from Plaster of Paris, gauze, and torn sheets, but she thought it would work well enough—and she’d sewn hundreds of sutures into his arms and legs. But the wound in his eye was a horror. As she’d cleaned it, she’d seen clear evidence of repeated blunt trauma. They’d stuck things into his empty eye socket.
She understood his strength in a way she had not before. She’d always known him to be strong, to be fierce, to be loyal. But as she pulled up a chair and took a quiet moment, sending Gwen out for a break, she watched him sleep and knew that the man before her would fight any fight for his family. He could not be broken.
And he had come home to her.
He, too, was quiet, sleeping under an opiate blanket. Having made sure that her other patients were resting, she took this moment to be his woman rather than his doctor. Tears threatened, but she fought them back—she couldn’t give up that much control. She still had much to do.
She laid her hand on his arm, finding a small, unharmed part of his skin. He was fiery hot to the touch. She had to get that under control.
He took a deeper breath and turned his head in her direction. His remaining eye opened and then closed.
“Doc?”
“Sorry. I’m sorry, babe. Go back to sleep.”
But he didn’t. Instead, he fought for wakefulness. “I’m home? Oh, fuck me, I’m home.”
Fever, pain, and dehydration had made him delirious and unaware when she’d first seen him in this bed. “Yes. You’re home. I’m here.”
“M’I gonna pull through, y’think?”
“You are. You’re going to be fine. Just have to get the infection under control.”
“I felt it. Crawling in my head. Digging in.”
“I’m going to make you well, Len. I swear. I’m going to make you well—all of you.”
“Havoc.”
No. She couldn’t make Havoc well. Havoc was gone. “I’m so sorry.”
“Somebody’s got to tell Cory.” He moved as if he meant to get up. “Somebody needs to tell her he died strong.”
“Isaac has it under control.” She pushed carefully on his swollen shoulder. He was not strong enough to resist that light pressure, and he stopped fighting.
“He died strong. He kept Badge goin’. He died strong.”
“I know, babe. Everybody knows.”
“Badge? Show?”
“They’re here. They’re going to be okay.” She thought that was true. She hoped it was. For several minutes, he was quiet, and Tasha could tell that he was drifting near unconsciousness again. Then his eye struggled open and found her.
“Tell me you love me, baby.”
Tears running unimpeded down her cheeks, Tasha leaned forward and kissed him, gently. “I love you. Len, I love you. I love you. God, I love you. You never have to ask me again. I love you.”
He laughed softly as he faded away into sleep. “Think I said I’d marry you when I didn’t have to ask.”
~oOo~
&nb
sp; She sat and watched him sleep for half an hour, taking some comfort from his quiet. He would be okay. Then the door opened a little, and Lilli poked her head through. “Can you come out and talk to us a minute, Tash?”
“Yeah. Be right there.” After Lilli closed the door, Tasha stood and pressed her lips to Len’s hot forehead. “I’ll be back. I’ll be here.” Then she went out to look for Lilli and Isaac.
She found them alone at the bar. After so many hours of crowd and stress and trauma, the Hall felt eerie, now that it was empty. A couple of girls wandered about, cleaning, but the aura of the space was of loss. Desertion. Tasha remembered some of the looks and mutters among the crowd that had been, and she felt a sense of foreboding. Trouble was not yet behind them.
Isaac stood as she approached. He kissed her cheek and led her to sit between him and his wife. “Give me an update, Tash.”
“Len and Show will pull through fine, I think. I’m worried about Len’s hands and feet, because makeshift casts aren’t exactly the best medicine, but if we keep him in bed—totally in bed—for a couple of weeks, I think he’ll be okay.”
“He’s gonna hate that.”
“Yeah, well, tough shit. I’ll talk to him.”
“You okay with him getting help from the girls?”
She didn’t have time to be jealous of the sad women who haunted the clubhouse. “I’ll deal. He’s going to need a wheelchair.”
“I got one. I’ll bring it. What about Show?”
“Show can go home once his fever’s broken. He can be up when he feels able—though we can’t let him push it. That man is superhuman.”
Isaac laughed. “Yeah, he is.”
“He’s going to need dental work, and soon. They broke out six teeth on his left side, and all that’s left are jagged pieces. Like he was hit with a bat. The only reason I can imagine that his jaw isn’t broken is sheer bullheadedness.”
“And Badger?”
“I won’t lie—I’m worried. He really needs to be in the hospital, Isaac.”
“I know. And you know why he can’t be. Besides law, the men who did that to him will just go right in and kill him.” Isaac looked steadily at her.
Tasha understood. “Best case, he’s going to be badly scarred. They didn’t get his entire epidermis, or he would die with that much exposed tissue. He would have already died. They left enough that there’s a chance he’ll heal. But without a skin graft, growing new skin over an area that large—it’s going to be intensely painful, and the scarring will be extensive. What he’ll grow back will be scar tissue, not skin. It will be inflexible. That area won’t sweat or have any sensation but pain. But the scarring is the least of my concerns. His infection is more advanced even than Len’s, and he must have experienced pain beyond imagining. Pain weakens the human body, Isaac. For a host of reasons, extreme pain accelerates degradation and impedes healing. That he held on speaks volumes about his fortitude. But he absolutely needs round-the-clock care. I want somebody on him every second, and I will stay put until he’s stable. In order to keep him sane, though, under these conditions, he might well end up hooked on opiates.”
“We’ll cross that bridge, Tash. Let’s get him healed first.”
“Agreed. I just want to make sure you understand the full dimensions of what’s going on here. Dealing with their infections is first order. But, Isaac, the antibiotics I have won’t hold out long enough. They are all in rough shape. They’re going to need long courses of medication. I don’t have enough, and I can’t just write a scrip for a case of Cipro.”
“What can I do?”
She’d already made a decision—and it hadn’t been difficult at all. “Give me your phone.”
“What?”
“Your phone. Your burner. I’m going to give you a contact. Then, when we’re done here, I’m going to make you a shopping list.” He did, and she typed a name and number into his notes. “Isaac, this is me making a left turn right out of the grey area and into whatever dark place you guys live in. This isn’t fudging records. This is putting you in touch with a black market guy. Outlaw shit. So I need to know what the fuck is going on. All of it.”
Isaac shook his head, and Tasha suppressed the urge to slap him. “That’s Len’s place, Tash. Not for me to say what you know about the club.”
“Fuck that. I’m not talking to you as Len’s woman. I’m talking to you as the Horde’s doctor. I need in. I need to know it all.”
“How do you know a guy like this?”
“You’d be surprised what you learn working in an ER. You meet all the best people. Now talk.”
“No, Tash. No.”
From behind her, Lilli spoke. “Isaac. Tell her.”
Tasha counted heartbeats as Isaac and Lilli stared at each other over her shoulder. Seventeen heartbeats. Then Isaac sighed. And he told her. If he didn’t tell her everything, he told her a lot.
When he was finished, she thanked him. Then she rose, did another round with her patients, and went back to Len’s bedside.
He slept, and she thought.
She thought long and hard.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
They waited to bury Havoc until his brothers could carry his casket. Until they could ride with his hearse. So it was a cold, rainy day at the end of November before they laid him to rest in the St. John’s churchyard. More than two months.
During that time, the Horde family had pulled tightly inward. Tasha had moved into the clubhouse, because she’d needed to be close to Badger and Len, especially, as they recovered. Show’s prodigious strength had stood him well, and Tasha had been able to let Shannon take him home after only a week in her care.
Badger recovered much more slowly, and they’d almost lost him several times during the first days. But he did recover—was recovering. He was not strong enough to be a pallbearer, but he felt ready to sit his bike well enough to make it from the clubhouse to the churchyard and back. His ribs had healed, as had his chest, though his Horde ink had been replaced by tender, uneven scars striped with shiny-pink new skin.
Len had spent a long first week suffering through a violent infection in his eye. No—his eye socket. And he’d spent weeks confined to a bed or wheelchair, unable to walk or even use crutches until the bones in his hands and feet knitted back together. His hands were the worst. Their tormentors had spent a lot of energy on fucking them up, and Len was pretty sure that they’d never recover completely. But he could manage to wrap them around the grips, and for now that was good enough.
Riding with one eye required practically learning to ride all over again. Depth perception wasn’t something really noticeable until it was gone. Once it was gone, the world became an unfamiliar place, as if it had lost a dimension. Since he’d been mobile again, Len often misjudged doors and corners, banging his shoulder on an edge. He was getting better, though, learning to navigate a newly flat world.
He was alive. He was alive, and he had Tasha, and that was a bounty beyond reckoning, considering where he’d been that day in September.
He stood in the dorm room he had only ever before used for fucking, where he now lived with Tasha, and slid the leather patch over his head. He settled it over the place where his left eye had been. He’d taken a man’s eye once—Shiv’s, Sam Carpenter’s SAA, when Sam had offered him up in the ring. Maybe there was a kind of biblical justice that he, too, had now lost an eye.
He shrugged on his kutte, his mind flashing to the moment in Hell’s interrogation room, when Santaveria’s men had brought their kuttes back to them. They had been folded neatly, and they’d been brought in almost ceremoniously and laid carefully on the metal table before Isaac. Show, Badger, Len—and Havoc—had still been shackled to the wall.
Len shuddered. No. There was no kind of justice. Not anywhere.
Tasha came up behind him. In the mirror, he saw her approach, dressed in a simple, sleek black dress, her hair pulled back in a plain ponytail. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his ba
ck. “Can I do anything?”
Turning, he folded her into his arms. “I’m okay, Doc. Hard day, but I’m okay.” She tipped her face up, and he kissed her. Every kiss, every one, restored him a little. Since that day it had been true. Since that day, since he’d gotten home again and she’d been waiting, she had been his unequivocally, and she gave him strength.
She pulled away just a little. “If you need me, I’ll stay.”
“Go. You need to help Cory. And I’m gonna ride with my brothers. Get her to the church. Keep her together. I’ll see you there.” Cory had just…stopped when Havoc died. She’d been on autopilot for weeks; the old ladies did not leave her alone, ever. They were all coming together to shore her up on this terrible day.
“Okay. I love you.”
He smiled. To hear her say it of her own free will—he would never tire of it. He brought his hands up and framed her beautiful, fair face. “I will love you forever, Tasha. Forever.”
~oOo~
Len went out into the Hall. The room was quiet, full of somber men in black leather. Havoc’s casket stood on a bier in the middle of the room. The end of his journey started here, in the Horde clubhouse, surrounded by his brothers.
The time he’d spent on ice in the Worden Funeral Home had been gentle on his body. He looked just like Havoc, except that the restful expression in which his face had been posed was calmer than it had ever been in life. Even at rest, even at play, he had always looked intense.
He was dressed in the shirt and jeans he’d worn when he’d married Cory—his only ‘nice’ clothes—and in his well-worn boots and his kutte. Isaac had cleaned that kutte himself, sitting alone in the Keep the night before. Havoc’s brutally mangled hands were tucked into the pockets.
Men from clubs with whom the Horde were friends and allies filled the Hall, but all except Horde stood back a respectful distance as Havoc’s brothers circled the casket.
Show the Fire (Signal Bend Series) Page 22
