They got him into the rear of the black panel truck and lay him on a filthy blanket. Liam hopped in next to his father and stopped Mack and Jay from joining.
“You two are on parole. Bug out and go home. Anyone asks, you were injured on the job.” Which could get him in trouble with OSHA but he’d deal with the government oversight, if necessary.
Mack hesitated but didn’t have a choice when Liam shoved him into his wife’s arms. “Think of what you’ll lose if you go back to prison.” Then he slammed the doors closed in Mack’s face and ordered the driver to go. He turned to Snoop. “Call your men and tell them to get to cleaning. That place needs to be spotless when the cops show.”
Snoop scowled as he pulled his phone out of his ass pocket and dialed. Task completed, he turned to his two men in the van. “We were jumped, that’s the story. They had masks, gloves, the whole nine, and we didn’t get their faces,” Snoop barked. “Got it?”
Both men murmured their agreement.
Liam studied the three men in the van with him. He didn’t include Brian who had his finger in the dike, keeping Finlay from bleeding out, and whose rumbling days were long over. Two of the men were bloody—a head wound on one and a bloody nose on the other, probably a busted jaw too by the way he held his chin. If he’d been thinking clearly, he would’ve swapped them out for two of the men who weren’t wrecked. Being clueless about the attacker’s identities worked better with Finlay getting jumped alone than the entire club taking an ass-kicking.
Liam’s gaze cut to Snoop who had not a drop of blood on his clean white shirt. “How’d you get away unscathed?”
A slow crank of Snoop’s head and their eyes locked. “You got something to say?”
“I just said it.” The van took a sharp turn. Snoop flexed his knuckles and yeah, they were a tad bruised, but bullshit. “Look around, dude. My father is bleeding the fuck out.” On his haunches, he got in Snoop’s face. One of them may not make it out of the van alive.
“That’s because he pushed me out of the way.”
Rocked, and not from the shoddy struts or potholes littering the road, Liam leaned against the wall of the van. “He took a bullet for you?”
“Yeah.” He scrubbed a hand down his scarred face.
It was hard not to read more into it than a leader looking out for his men. Hell, Liam would’ve taken a bullet for any of the men he served with, so the notion wasn’t alien. Yet to think, he almost lost his father because of the asshole sitting next to him. The asshole that took his place in the club, and in his father’s life, after Liam was the one to bring said asshole into the club in the first place. Man, that was a knife in the gut.
Finlay’s eyes were open and blinking, like they were led shields too heavy for him to lift. Snoop leaned over him, calling his name, which earned him a grin and a soft pat to the face, something Finlay used to do to Liam.
Then Finlay’s gaze rolled over Liam and stayed. He wondered if his father saw him or thought he was a figment of his imagination.
“Leave,” Finlay croaked. “Don’t want you here.”
Yeah, he knew his son was in his presence. Damn, I’m a fucking fool. Liam snorted and looked away.
“We’re here.”
The van skidded to a halt. Finlay groaned. Liam took that as a good sign as the two club members nearest the van doors opened them and hopped out. They hustled inside and a few seconds later, a doctor and a couple of nurses hurried out, bringing a stretcher with them. Together, with the help of the blanket, they leveraged Finlay onto a stretcher and rushed him into the hospital. Liam stood back—way back—and let the medical staff work on their patient.
“What happened to him?” a nurse holding a clipboard asked.
Liam let Snoop lie while he focused on the nurses attaching leads to his father’s chest. Brian mumbled through his half-assed reasoning for removing the bullet and plugging the wound with his finger. They separated Brian from his patient and tried to stop the bleeding. It took all of two minutes for them to realize that wasn’t going to work and transported Finlay to the OR.
Thirty minutes later, the police arrived, and the questions began. In the end, everyone that needed patching up got patched, then were hauled down to the police station. All except him, because he had an alibi. Hard to commit a crime while working at his main office with plenty of witnesses.
“Any family here for Finlay Callahan?”
Liam’s hand shot up, followed by the rest of him. About time. Five hours in the OR family lounge was enough to drive anyone crazy, especially since he wasn’t alone. Other families waited for answers to their fervent prayers. He didn’t pray. Wasn’t his thing.
He eyed the doctor in the standard scrubs and lab coat. By the gray hair, Liam guessed mid-fifties, experienced, and used to projecting his authority.
“I’m his son.”
No handshake, no preamble. None was necessary. “Your father survived the surgery, no thanks to the butcher who removed the bullet causing him to nearly bleed to death.”
Liam couldn’t argue. Brian did what he could, it was ill-advised, incompetent and downright idiotic, even if his heart was in the right place. He did it to save his friend and leader.
“Your father’s breathing on his own, which bodes well. He will be transferred to the ICU after recovery. He’s a high risk for infection and surgical complications. He’s also hypertensive, diabetic, and has fluid around his heart. All conditions went untreated for a very long time, but with medication we’re hoping they can be managed.” Voice grave, he studied Liam as if all Finlay’s ailments were his fault, when he had no idea and doubted Finlay had known he was at death’s door before today.
“He’s going to be in the hospital for a while. I wish I could give you a better prognosis, but I can’t.”
Liam couldn’t fault the man for being blunt. The doctor held open the security door. On the other side everything was sterile white. The lighting bright, the tone serious. “Do you want to see him now?”
It would be easy to walk away, like Finlay walked away from him. Liam dragged a hand through his hair and nodded. He needed to see his father.
The doctor handed him off to a nurse, then went in the opposite direction. A short walk brought them to an open bay lined with eight beds, four of them occupied. Finlay was off to the left, nearest the wall, hooked up to everything except a respirator.
He’d never seen his father so vulnerable. Indomitable, arrogant, and unbowed, that was Finlay Callahan. Not the old, helpless man on the stretcher. This wasn’t the man who told him his mother had left and wasn’t coming back. This wasn’t the man who left him at his aunt’s house to go serve his prison sentence without a hug or a goodbye. And this damn sure wasn’t the man who cut him off when he joined the Army.
The few minutes he was allowed in recovery turned into hours waiting in the ICU waiting room, with fifteen-minute visitation intervals. It wasn’t enough. He needed Finlay to open his eyes.
Willa came by. Mack and Jay got hauled in anyway with the rest of Mayhem. All were down at the police station for however long it took. For Willa’s sake and his, because Liam would miss the bastard, he prayed Mack hadn’t fucked himself and set fire to his parole with only a few months left.
Willa brought him a ham and cheese from Subway and hung around for a few hours, preferring the hospital over lockup. By the afternoon, Anna had joined them. He welcomed their company, but by the evening, he had enough of their quiet chatter and mothering, and sent them home.
“Anything changes, I’ll call.” He promised and nearly had to drag them to their cars.
“He’s awake,” Finlay’s nurse said when he returned. “The same fifteen minutes apply.”
Liam entered the room. Instead of flat on his back, the head of the bed was raised to a thirty-degree angle. Finlay’s eyes were open, blinking slowly as Liam approached the side of the bed. Those dark eyes of his father, the same color as his, shifted Liam’s way.
“Yae real?” Finlay
croaked.
“Real enough.”
“Thought I imagined yae.”
“No. You’ve never had an imagination. One bullet wouldn’t give you one now.” Was hard to believe they were actually talking after years of pretending the other didn’t exist. May as well push his luck and try to get some answers.
“How did you end up here with a catheter up your dick?” Better to take the backdoor approach than straight up and say who shot your old ass. The straight up approach didn’t work with his father, at least not where he was concerned.
Finlay’s eyes narrowed and that familiar flare of anger ignited in the depths. “Fucking Black Dragons cutting into our turf. They lost turf and money when their accountant went to prison. They can’t even kill the motherfucker ’cause he’s got all the money locked away.”
“Son of a bitch.”
Finlay groaned long and loud. “Shit, whatever they gae me is wearin’ off.” He rolled onto his side, pulling at his IV and all the leads attached to his body. Machines screeched.
Liam had seen his fair share of wounds, some so horrific he never wanted to remember, yet couldn’t forget. But nothing was as disturbing as seeing his father writhing in pain. Nothing. Before he could press the call button, two nurses rushed into the room.
He stepped aside and watched them work. One injected something into Finlay’s IV while the other silenced the alarms. All leads and tubing were checked, along with his wounds. Lastly, a blanket covered him.
“Visiting time is over. You should go home and get some sleep. Your father will be out for a few hours. Come back tomorrow.”
With a last lingering look at his father, he exited the room with a silent promise to be back tomorrow.
Chapter Six
Ten hours on her feet and Sabrina wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed. That wouldn’t happen when she had to pick up Vivi and make it to the pantry before they closed. It was the second time this month she had to make the trip. She wasn’t proud but didn’t have much of a choice, not when facing hunger. Also, she wasn’t the only one needing help. There was always a line filled with the old and young, men and women alike. And lots of children. Hunger didn’t discriminate. All of this was temporary. She would get on her feet and pull her and Vivi out of the quicksand and onto solid ground. The cut hours and minimum wage wouldn’t hold her back. She used the extra time off to find another job, something full-time with benefits.
With only ten weeks left before she had to take over the rent or move back to the shelter, they’d be in the dark soon because she couldn’t afford the utilities.
So far finding a second job hadn’t worked. She had interviews, but no new job, not full or part-time. Not that she wanted to spend all that time away from her daughter, but she had to take advantage of the twenty-four-hour daycare at the reduced Lazarus House rate. Saving money and getting her life together, their lives together, had priority. That meant she had to do whatever she had to for Vivi. Her daughter didn’t ask to be here, to be in a shitty situation. She asked to be loved, nurtured, and given the life she deserved.
And right now, that meant hauling ass to the food bank with Vivi because having a cute, hungry baby on your hip got you more food. Maybe not more food for the parent, but definitely for the baby. No one could look a hungry baby in the face and not do something.
She walked into the daycare, handed over half of her two-week paycheck—one hundred and five dollars—and retrieved her daughter. Vivi gave her the biggest smile, and that made her day so much better, especially on the sprint to the pantry—which closed in thirty minutes. Sabrina pulled into the parking lot with nine minutes to spare.
The usual line wasn’t there. Not surprising at the late hour, nearly six o’clock in the evening. Shit. She lifted Vivi out of her car seat and hoofed it to the door.
It was locked.
No. No. No. She had one hundred and five left in her wallet. Forty of that went for the water bill. She needed forty for gas to get to work, search for a new job, and if necessary, get out of town. That left her twenty-five dollars for diapers and food for the next two weeks.
She banged on the door, rattled the handle, and banged on the door some more.
“We’re closed,” someone shouted from inside.
“Please. I need help. I have a baby and I’m out of food for her.” God, she hated using Vivi, but she hadn’t lied about being out of baby food.
Through the reinforced chicken wire glass, a person shuffled into view, then the door opened, and a head popped out. An elderly woman with more gray than blond hair topping her round face stared at her.
Sabrina held Vivi closer and as if on cue, she giggled. “I don’t have anything to feed her tonight.” Not a lie.
The worker tickled Vivi under her drooly chin. “You’re lucky I’m setting up for tomorrow. I can give you something to get through the night. Hold on. You too, little one.” She blew a kiss to Vivi and disappeared back into the facility.
“Thank you!” And thank you, God. Sabrina kissed Vivi’s head and paced while waiting for the worker to return. It didn’t take long for the door to open and a shopping bag to be handed through.
“All I got is baby food, diapers, and wipes. We’re expecting shipments of food after the local restaurants close, around two in the morning. We don’t get dried goods and baby supplies ’til later in the morning, about six. Come back then.”
“Thanks. I’ll be back.” She smiled at the woman who ignored her and waved at Vivi as she closed the door.
“Miss Wilkins?”
Heart pounding, knees weak, Sabrina spun at the sound of her name, and faced Liam Callahan. Her fight-or-flight instinct stuck in neutral, she backed into the brick wall of the pantry, her body curled protectively around Vivi. Her response couldn’t be helped even if the fear was irrational. Vincent was in prison. The Black Dragons controlled territory on the other side of the city, and the man in front of her didn’t recognize her. She was safe. Nothing could harm her. Regardless of the facts, Sabrina was still terrified.
“Sorry.” He held up his empty hands. “I keep surprising you when I don’t mean to.”
It took forever for her heart to stop racing and the terror to ebb enough for her to respond to the owner of her rental. “Wh-what are y-you doing here?” Her car was several feet away, too far to make a dash.
And why should she run? The guy was harmless. He had no reason to hurt her. Then she remembered that no man was harmless and the one in front of her towered over her, even though a couple feet separated them. He stood far enough away to drive a car through the space between them. Plus, he’d shoved his hands in his pockets, which just made his pecs, biceps, and shoulders seem bigger. More threatening rather than less.
“I’m renovating two townhouses on the block.” He pointed at the two fenced single-family homes across the street, with the security guard stationed in front.
“Gentrification changing the landscape of the neighborhood. Millennials can’t afford the price in the city, but I can’t take the chance and have all the appliances go missing. Not when I’m in escrow,” he explained as if she gave a damn. “Anyway, I was about to leave, and I saw you and the baby standing here at the food bank. After hours,” he stressed, as if she didn’t know the neighborhood had a rough side. No one put food centers on streets called Park Avenue or Rodeo Drive.
“So, you were there, watching me? For how long?” she demanded.
“Long enough.”
Long enough to see me beg. Embarrassed, Sabrina blinked a couple times, centering herself. “Um. I don’t need your help.”
He nodded and seemed to study the sign above her head. “Let me walk you to your car.” His pace slow, he strolled up to her and reached for the bag full of baby food she didn’t remember dropping. Something rattled, and he looked inside. “Some jars are broken.”
“Great. Just great,” she muttered and snatched the bag out of his hands and marched to her car. She got Vivi back in her car seat and open
ed the bag on the hood of the Toyota. Three jars: peaches, chicken, and peas shattered, the colorful contents smeared all over the pack of diapers. That left four jars of baby food for Vivi.
Sigh. Four was better than nothing. Two tonight and two tomorrow.
“This is my fault. I startled you.” He was closer though far enough away that she didn’t feel crowded.
Damn right it was his fault. He said something else which she ignored. Her temples throbbed, her stomach growled, and any second Vivi would start to whine for her dinner.
“I got to get home,” she said more to herself than him. She folded the bag onto itself and took it to the trunk. The wet smear on the hood of the car stayed and no doubt there’d be a stain in the trunk, but she couldn’t do anything about that now.
“Let me replace what I broke,” he said before she slid into the driver’s seat. He remained far away, his open wallet in one hand and cash in the other.
“No.” She didn’t want to owe anybody, no matter how much she needed it. Owing a man gave him power over you. “I appreciate the offer, Mr. Callahan, but I’m fine. Just fine.” Lie. Lie. Lie.
She got in the car. The engine cranked on the third try. The transmission hitched. She held her breath until it engaged, then she drove back to the house. By the time she had Vivi and the stained bag out of the car, Mr. Callahan’s truck rolled into his driveway. He climbed out of his car and stood next to his vehicle as she made her way into the house. She saw it all out of her peripheral because she refused to make eye contact.
Of course, Vivi started crying the second Sabrina closed and locked the front door. As soon as she could, she brought Vivi to her breast, which stopped the crying, but breast milk wouldn’t get her through the night. Her milk wasn’t what it used to be. Could be stress, could be the thirty pounds she’d lost since Vincent went away. Hell, it could be karma for all she knew.
Yeah, she was free, but freedom wasn’t freedom. Freedom was fucking hard.
Plain Jane and the Bad Boy (Plain Jane Series) Page 5
