by Hazel Parker
“Meaning?” I said as Tracy’s operating room came into view. At the moment, only Splitter stood outside. Thankfully, Dr. Burns pulled me aside, away from where anyone else might hear us.
“In his eyes, you’re someone who tried to escape this world and successfully did so for ten years. Maybe thought you imagined this town was safer after all this time. Maybe he thought your time in New York and Baltimore made you a little less aware of what was going on. Mind you, these aren’t things you or I think or know. They’re just what he may have thought.”
“Maybe.”
It would’ve been nice to believe that. Even at the moment, I remembered wanting Tracy to be coming from a place of just idiocy, not manipulation. And…
Well, it was actually kind of nice to realize that I didn’t have to try to believe that. It just felt right. That was a hell of a lot of effort to rescue me if all he wanted to do was manipulate me into one night of sex.
And frankly, for saving my life and taking a bullet, I think I might just let him manipulate me into the bedroom for another round anyway.
Especially considering how mind-blowing the last time was.
“In any case, dear, always ask yourself why,” Dr. Burns said. “Why did he do those things? If he does it from a place of love or care, then forgive him. If someone does something for selfish reasons, hold them accountable. But I think you know why he did all of this.”
“I do,” I said with a smile. “Thanks.”
“Come here,” Dr. Burns said as she embraced me one last time. “Like I said, take the next two days off. I’ll keep you up to date on Tracy’s condition. He should be fine, anyway.”
“Sure?” I said, even though my objective mind would have seen that the worst case scenario had passed and he’d make it through.
“Absolutely,” she said. “Now go home. If nothing else, try a new bottle of wine and let me know how it is.”
“Got it,” I said. “Thanks, Dr. Burns.”
“Just call me Pam the next few days,” she said, patting my arm as she went down the hall toward Tracy’s room.
I just stood there in silence for a few moments, smiling wistfully. I supposed I owed Tracy an apology for reacting as strongly as I did. It probably was fair to say that Tracy underestimated my knowledge of the club and my awareness of the risks, but it was definitely fair to say that I had simply reacted to the surface level of the words, failing to consider the context and the reasons that he had said as much to me. I’d given him a red cheek for that, and while I wasn’t about to actually slap myself, I did deserve to slap myself around a little inside to make sure I didn’t do such a thing again.
This was especially true if I wanted something substantive with him. This wasn’t going to be the last time that Tracy would go into overprotective mode, and it wasn’t going to be the last time that I would feel annoyed that he didn’t remember who my father was. But with time, I would get better at realizing his heart was in the right place, and he would get better at realizing that I knew what the hell the Savage Saints entailed.
I smiled, said, “Thanks, Tracy,” and turned.
And that’s when I saw the other five Savage Saints standing there, coming to a halt as I turned.
“Guys,” I said with an exasperated smile. “Didn’t we go over this last time? I can only allow family and medical personnel, and Splitter’s in because—”
“We’re not here for Tracy,” BK said. “He ain’t gonna die; he can suck it up.”
“He’ll be fine,” I heard Splitter say from behind me. “It’s tough to see your president go down like that. It’s really, really tough.”
Was Splitter… emotional?
“But he’ll be OK.”
“Yes, he’s a really big boy, you see?” Mafia added.
“We’re here, Jane, because we want to apologize,” Sensei said. “We wanted to apologize for what we did back after Trace got shot. We were so concerned about the cops coming here and forcing stuff out of him that we didn’t take into consideration that you knew best as a doctor. We appreciate everything you do for us and just wanted to apologize as Savage Saints MC.”
“Hmm, that’s a theme tonight,” I said with a gentle smirk. “But it’s OK. You guys are just looking out for your brother. If you weren’t doing that, I’d have to question how well you took the lessons of my father.”
“Yeah, that’s fair,” Sensei said. “But in any case, Jane. You’ve been through a lot the past day. The Saints want to make it up to you. Is there anything we can do?”
“Woah, make up? Guys,” I said, laughing in embarrassment. “I’m here as a doctor because of your club and your funds. I know a lot of you hated it, but you did it. There’s no need to help—”
“We don’t mean like that,” BK said.
“We’d be broke if we put someone else through med school,” Sensei said, drawing a few chuckles. “We want to help you here. What can we do?”
I was about to shrug dismissively and say that there was nothing to be done other than to support Tracy and make sure he got back to full health.
But thinking about him, thinking about the craziness of the day, and thinking about where it had all started, actually sparked something.
“Actually,” I said, my eyes lighting up. “Have you guys ever set someone up on a blind date?”
Chapter 19: Trace
Diablo is dead.
Holy shit. We did it. We killed Diablo.
And Jane… she’s safe.
I was slowly coming back to consciousness, feeling a little weak but overall much healthier and alert than someone who had gotten shot in the chest would normally feel. I supposed I was getting used to getting shot, although I couldn’t say that was a career goal I was striving for.
My eyes were still closed, and I kept them closed as I tried to replay the previous twenty-four hours. To say it had gone by in a whirlwind was the understatement of the club’s entire history—I didn’t think I’d ever had a more eventful day.
Sex with Jane. Sex that went far beyond just physical pleasure, but an emotional connection that was so strong it made me feel guilty for having done it. So guilty that I chose to cut it off, paying a heavy price for it in the morning. Getting investigated by the police. Having a goddamn shootout with the Mercs. Diablo almost killing Jane, only for her to save herself. Me killing Diablo. Me passing out.
And now, me lying here in a hospital bed.
What a fucking day.
And I didn’t think it was even midnight yet.
Goddamn. I’m gonna need a vacation after the cops wrap up with us. Gonna go somewhere far, far away and reflect on all of this madness.
I opened my eyes, finally, and, not surprisingly, was staring at the white tiles of a hospital room. I looked over to my right and saw a few machines with my vital signs. They all looked within reason—my heart rate was a little high, perhaps from the rush of thoughts that came from coming back to the waking world, but nothing that would make me think I had to press the nurse call button.
I turned to the left and nearly had my heart rate spike back up to the hundreds when I saw all of the club officers standing there, arms folded.
“Jesus Christ,” I said, working slowly to bring myself back down. “Y’all look a hell lot more intimidating when I’m just lying here. Look like a bunch of fucking statues towering over L.A.”
“Are you calling us fat?” Splitter said with a smirk.
“Yeah, cuz you’re the one who should be taking it, not dishing it, tiny,” Krispy said, drawing laughs.
“That’s a good one! Trace ‘Tiny’ Cole!”
The club erupted in laughter, some exchanging high fives with Krispy.
“Yes, because that’s what I need,” I said with an eye roll. “You really wanna give a new nickname? What if I called BK, uhh, Whopper, or if I called Krispy, uhh, Glazed?”
“You really want to call me Whopper and him Glazed?” BK said.
The two most physically intimidating member
s stared down at me, trying to keep a straight face, but after just a couple of seconds, even BK was laughing.
“He wants it his way!” BK said, drawing even harder laughing.
I could only lay there and take the deserved shit talking with a grin—which was genuine. It was nice to know that after all that we’d gone through that night, after all the shit from this morning, we were still a brotherhood, bonded more tightly by the trials we’d gone through instead of being split at the seams.
Although that would all change really fucking fast if the nickname “Tiny” stuck. Jesus.
“Nah, but for real, brother, you doing OK?” Splitter said, finally settling down the trash talking a bit.
I gave a thumbs up.
“I mean, I’ve gotten shot twice in this past week, but I’m still standing. Can we say the same for Diablo?”
“Nope!” they all roared, celebrating and clapping.
“Damn straight, so yeah, I’m good.”
I let the club whoop it up a little bit more. When it died down a bit, Splitter reached into his pocket and pulled out a flask.
“Docs won’t let us bring alcohol in here,” he said. “So we got you some orange juice.”
He didn’t even bother to hide his wink as he said this. Hey, who was I to argue? I’d gotten shot in the fucking ribs; the least I could get was a sip of some whiskey.
I took the flask, swallowed a bit of tequila, and nearly spit it up at how warm it was.
“Pussy,” Krispy said.
“I’d rather drink your piss; at least I’ll know that’s going to be warm.”
“Yeah, probably should have considered being on a bike with that might warm it up,” Splitter said with a shrug. “But, seriously, brother. We wanted to come here and say thank you. The balls you showed at the apartment complex…”
His voice trailed off as he put a hand on my shoulder, bowing his head, unable to say much more, the emotions of the moment getting to him.
“Made of American steel,” Krispy said.
“Unbreakable.”
“Ridiculous.”
“Yeah,” Splitter said when he finally pulled himself together. “We all gotta admit to you, with everything with Jane, we worried you were letting that shit get to your head. We all know the club comes first.”
“Club comes first,” I said, emphasizing the line.
“But we just worried that with that, it was gonna fuck with your head. Maybe it did at first, but goddamn, man. Goddamn if you didn’t just prove us all wrong.”
“Let’s just say, Tiny,” Sensei said, drawing some bemused chuckles. “Nah, I can’t. Let’s just say, Trace, that we value your leadership more than ever now. You might have become president fairly young, but Paul didn’t put you here because he knew someday you’d fall for his daughter. He did so because you can lead this club in the right direction in the future.”
“Amen,” all of the other Saints said in unison.
I sought the right words to acknowledge what they said, but words just seemed to fail at that very moment. What could I say? The loyalty of the brothers that I had, the bond that we shared, and the honesty we all had with each other was something I was never going to take for granted. I needed only to go into the “real” world and just observe the games other men played with each other to realize that this was a special, unique club. I may have been president, but I liked to believe that everyone had some level of ownership in the club.
It wasn’t “Tracy Cole’s club.” It wasn’t even “Paul Peters’ club.” It was the Savage Saints, and it was everyone’s club.
“Just don’t let pussy go to your head,” Splitter said, the macho side returning as more laughter came.
I laughed, too, but remembering the last actual conversation that Jane and I had had, that laugh soon turned into a resigned sigh.
“What?”
“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that,” I said with a smile meant to mask the disappointment I had in myself. “I’m really glad Jane is safe. I assume she’s off taking care of other patients.”
“Doc gave her a few days off,” Sensei said. “Decompress a bit.”
“Gotcha,” I said. “That’s good. But after what I did?”
For better or for worse, I listed out all of the stupid shit I had done in the morning. I noticed some of the guys placing their hands over their mouths as if trying to hide something, but I assumed it was just laughter at how much of an idiot I was. I held nothing back, including the fact that I got slapped, the fact that I hadn’t considered her experience with her father, and the irony that by releasing her from my watch, I’d set her up to get captured.
“So, yeah,” I said. “Jane and I might be on good terms, but I don’t think that’s ever gonna be pussy or love for me anytime soon.”
Some of the members looked at each other. Splitter looked back, and they all gave him a nod as well. The look was very clearly some sort of insider information that I didn’t yet know about—whether or not this was a good thing was something that left me more than a little nervous.
“We know you feel that way,” Splitter said. “So we thought we’d give you a little something to help you out with that.”
“OK…” I said, a little nervous—surprises the brothers had for each other had a tendency to be a bit… let’s say ridiculous and full of hazing.
“Nothing like that,” he said. “No, we’re gonna take you on a little vacation.”
“Huh?”
“We got permission from the big doc to get you out of here,” Sensei said. “We used some connections to free you. Granted, you’re not gonna be going on any runs or doing anything more strenuous than being on a bike for the next few days or so, but we can get you outta here before the police show up.”
“Seriously?” I said.
I certainly wasn’t complaining; I was just surprised. If Jane had not let me leave early because of a wound to the elbow, there was no way in hell she was letting me off the hook for a rib shot. But then again… who was the “big doc?” I was pretty sure if they were referring to Jane, they would have just said her name.
“Seriously,” Splitter said with a grin. “C’mon, our bikes are waiting out front. Let’s go.”
“Wait,” I said, Splitter’s words bringing something to mind. “How did I even get here?”
“I grabbed you,” BK said. “You ain’t nothin’ but a bunch of twigs on a torso, anyway. Though your head was kinda big.”
A few chuckles came through the crowd. My thoughts, though, went in one direction.
“And my bike?”
Splitter again looked at the rest of the crew, but this time, Sensei made a shush motion, putting one finger to his mouth. He made no attempt to hide this from me—in fact, I’m pretty sure he wanted me to see it.
“It’s fine,” Splitter said. “We’ll take you to it.”
“Ah, Christ. Do we gotta—”
“It’s not back at the apartment complex if that’s what you were gonna ask.”
“So someone rode it?” I said, my eyes narrowing and my heart beat rising, a fact made evident by the faster beeping behind me.
“You won’t mind, I promise,” Splitter said. “Come on, let’s get you the hell out of here. Oh, and put this on.”
He tossed me my jacket, which the doctors looked like they had removed during whatever work they had done.
“It’s not gonna be a great look for either of us if you have to ride on my bike with a goddamn hospital gown on.
“Wait, what?”
“We’ll see you outside!” Splitter said, a group laugh erupting a few seconds later after Splitter said something inaudible to the group.
“Goddamnit, I hate you all!” I said, resulting in Splitter turning around, blowing a kiss to me, and then disappearing out of view.
I turned back to facing the ceiling up above, collapsing into my pillow, and wondered what sort of nonsense the Saints had planned for me now. It wasn’t uncommon for the last person
who had passed out the night before to get some sort of mild hazing, but I had a bad feeling that this was going to be… well, down in the annals of club history seemed appropriate.
A few seconds later, an older woman who looked vaguely familiar—Dr. Burns, I realized—stepped inside.
“You’ve had quite a day, huh, Tracy?” she said gently.
“That’s, uhh, that’s an understatement,” I said. “What’s going on?”
“Well, what’s going on,” she said as she worked to remove some devices and wires from my body. “Is that we have established that you are at no risk for further injury or complications, so you can go. We’ve removed the bullet from your ribs and bandaged you up. I would suggest not engaging in heavy physical activity for at least two weeks—”
“Please tell me that doesn’t include riding,” I said, practically begging with my voice.
Dr. Burns paused, smiled, and shrugged.
“I’m only a doctor, Tracy, not your mother. These are merely ‘medical suggestions,’ if you were.”
I tried my best not to smirk, knowing full well the second I got my bike back I was going to be roaring down the street, charging down the highway and feeling that freedom that came from having the wind brush against my face and my life entirely dependent on the hog of metal beneath and between my legs.
“So anyway, I would suggest not doing anything like that for two weeks. Lay low, eat healthy, and if anything comes up, please feel free to contact myself or any of my doctors.”
“Got it,” I said. “Any doctor in particular?”
Dr. Burns, by now at the door, put her hand on the handle before smiling at me.
“Do I really need to answer that question for you, Tracy?”
The implication was clear. No, you do not, doc. No, you do not.
“You’re free to go at any time. Enjoy your evening plans, Tracy.”
“My what?”
She just shrugged, smiled, and headed out the door. Figuring I had nothing more to do, I quickly put on my jacket, left the room, and headed for the exit of the hospital.