Shifting Gears (Satan's Knights Prospect Trilogy Book 1)

by Janine Infante Bosco

  “Hang up the phone,” Parrish mutters under his breath. I look at him, but I don’t obey his command.

  “Who’s the patient?”

  “Chaz Pimento.”

  A sickening feeling creeps into my bones and I lower the phone, covering it with my palm.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell Parrish. “I’ve got to take this.”

  Leaving him standing there with a scowl on his face, I step out of the room and bring the phone back to my ear.

  “Put him on the phone.”

  “I can’t do that sir,” the nurse says. “He can’t speak.”

  “I’m not understanding,” I reply. “If he can’t speak how did he tell you to call me?”

  “Sir, his jaw is broken.”

  She continues to speak but I don’t hear anything after that. All I see is red. Consumed by rage, I disconnect the call and charge back into the room. Parrish is in the middle of talking when I grab a hold of his shoulder. He turns around and fixes me with a murderous glare.

  “I need to get to Staten Island University Hospital.”

  -Twenty-seven-

  Bash

  There’s no doubt in my mind, Parrish one hundred percent wanted to kill me for disrupting the meeting with B.A.C.A, but as angry as he was, he escorted me to the hospital and as I make my way through the emergency room, he’s right by my side. A brother through thick and thin and a fine example for every man with a patch.

  Reaching the registration desk, I pull my hat from my head and greet the woman behind it.

  “Hi there, I’m looking for a patient. His name is Chaz Pimento.”

  “Like the pepper?” Parrish questions next to me.

  Ignoring him, I focus on the woman and watch as she types Chaz’s name into her computer.

  “He’s in trauma one. I just need your license,” she says, looking towards Jack. “Wasn’t your wife and son brought in here not too long ago?”

  “Yeah,” Parrish replies. “What’s it to you?” he adds, sliding his driver’s license across the counter. “Just print the passes, okay?”

  The lady curls her lip at him and huffs out something I can’t quite make out before sliding me a pass. I clip it to my vest as she hands Jack his. Instead of attaching it to his vest like a normal man, he rips it in half and tosses the pieces over his shoulder like its confetti and strides for the double doors leading to the trauma area.

  “What the fuck was that?”

  “I turned this place upside down after Reina’s accident. It’s really no wonder they haven’t banned me from here.”

  He slaps the palm of his hand over the large button that opens the doors to the ER. They burst open, and he starts down the hallway full of patients. Following close behind him, I nearly crash into him when he comes to an abrupt stop.

  “Shit,” he hisses. Lifting my head, I realize the cause of his dismay. There are two patrolmen outside Chaz’s room and two detectives who seem to be questioning a woman.

  “You’re fucked,” Jack grunts, crossing his arms against his chest. “They ain’t letting anyone but family in there. Who did you say this guy was?”

  “A friend.”

  “Look at you, you’re here five minutes and you got yourself a girlfriend, some friends… life is good,” he taunts, uncrossing his arms. He pats me on the back and tips his chin in the direction we came. “Well, we tried. We might still make the meeting if—”

  “I’m not leaving,” I interrupt. “Whoever called me has to let me in to see him.”

  “It don’t work like that kid.”

  “You don’t understand,” I tell him. “Chaz is Lydia’s friend. He’s been attacked before and I told him if he was ever in trouble to call me.”

  “Why does he keep getting attacked?”

  “Chaz is a drag queen and people are narrowminded assholes.”

  “The cops are probably here because they’re treating it like a hate crime,” he says thoughtfully, looking back at the squad surrounding the room. “When in doubt, pull the crazy card. Watch and learn, Prospect, watch and learn.”

  And watch I do.

  Leaving me in the middle of the hallway, Parrish walks straight towards the nurse’s station. He barely reaches it before one of the nurse’s lifts her head and notices him.

  “Oh God, it’s you,” she croaks.

  “Nice to see you again too,” he sneers. At the sound of his voice, everything seems to come to a halt. Every doctor and every nurse stop what they’re doing and look at him. Mostly with fear but we’ll ignore that.

  “Can we help you, Mr. Parrish?”

  Of course they know his name.

  “Why as a matter of fact, I think you can. I need my pills,” he says as he grips the edge of the counter and hoists himself on top of it.

  “Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.

  “Why don’t we get you situated in a room?”

  “I don’t want no fucking room; I want my pills and you’re going to give them to me,” he shouts, causing a scene. The two officers guarding Chaz’s door move to stand next to the detectives and all four sets of eyes glared at Parrish.

  “What the fuck are you cunts looking at?” Jack taunts.

  “Is there a problem here?” One of the officers asks.

  “Yeah, motherfucker, the problem is I need my lithium and these jerkoffs are too busy shitting their pants to fetch them. Maybe you can assist or are you a pussy too?”

  “There are sick people here and you’re disrupting the peace, another word and I’ll arrest you.”

  Jack tosses his head back and barks out a laugh.

  “You’re gonna have to do better than that,” he says in between his fit of laughter. The cops and the detectives start for him. Taking the opening Jack has provided, I creep towards Chaz’s room, trying to go unnoticed. It’s not really a problem because all eyes are on Jack as he hops down from the counter and stands off against the police.

  His eyes find mine just as I reach the door, he gives me a curt nod before slicing his attention back to the man in front of him. I watch with wide eyes as he rears his fist backward and sends it flying into the policeman’s jaw. Chaos breaks out and I slip inside the room.

  The instant my eyes settle on Chaz, I realize I should’ve prepared myself better for what I’d find. The man is unrecognizable and not because he fixed his face to resemble a woman. Every square inch of his face is covered in bruises. His eyes are swollen shut and his jaw is completely distorted.

  There’s blood every-fucking-where.

  So much fucking blood.

  Clenching my fists at my side, I take a step forward. There’s no possible way he can see me with his eyes as swollen as they are and I’m not even certain he’s conscious. All I know is whoever did this is going to suffer and they’re going to suffer at my fucking hand.

  Reaching the side of his bed, I unclench my fists and grip the rail of the bed.

  “Chaz, buddy, it’s me, Bash,” I say hoarsely.

  His body jerks in response and a groan rumbles from somewhere deep inside of him. Unsure what to do to ease his pain, I lay a hand over his and lean closer.

  “It’s okay, it’s okay, no one’s gonna hurt you no more.”

  He moans and shakes his head violently. The machines start to beep, and I pull away from him worried I’ve done something to aggravate him more. Extending his hand, he reaches for my hand again and with every ounce of strength, he squeezes it. Another anguished moan rips from his throat. His lips start to move and his whole face contorts with pain as he tries to speak.

  “The nurse said you can’t talk, what are you doing?”

  “Id…” he grunts.

  “Id..id..Lydia?”

  He jerks his head.

  “I came straight here I wasn’t sure what had happened. I’ll go get her.”

  Squeezing my hand, he shakes his head even more vigorously than before. Confused, I try to make sense of whatever message he’s trying to convey but fail miserably. The door behind me o
pens, and a woman dressed to the nines, storms in. The resemblance she bears to Chaz is uncanny and I immediately place her as his mother.

  “Get away from my son!”

  Letting go of Chaz’s hand I take a step back and hold up my hands.

  “I’m a friend,” I explain. “Lydia is my—”

  “Lydia?!” she screeches. “Do not mention that girl's name! She’s the reason my son looks like this.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I found my son like this in front of her apartment,” she explains, moving to stand between me and Chaz’s bed.

  “That makes no sense.”

  “Tell that to her fucking husband,” she sneers. “He’s the one who did this to Chaz.”

  The blood in my veins runs cold as ice and I look to Chaz for some sort of clarification.

  “Is that why you called me here?”

  He moans and the gentleman in me disappears as I push his mother out of my way. My hands tighten around the bed rail as a million questions run through my mind, none of which Chaz can answer. Still, I ask the only one that matters.

  “The man who did this to you, is his name Declan?”

  He jerks his head, and that’s all the confirmation I need. My jaw ticks with rage.

  “One more question,” I grind out. “Do the cops know?”

  He shakes his head and I’m gone.

  Out the fucking door in a flash.

  I bypass Parrish, pausing only for a second when I see him restrained to a stretcher. He spits at one of the doctors and turns to me. Meeting my gaze, he mouths for me to go and I jet down the corridor. My stomach twists in knots as I exit the hospital. All the grim possibilities run through my mind and I push them aside.

  Straddling my bike, I try to piece together everything.

  The lies.

  The burns on her back.

  Every fucking horrible thing.

  I should be fucking livid but all I am is fucking terrified because if something happens to Lydia, I’ll never forgive myself.

  I guess it’s true, love really is blind.

  It’s also the fucking Devil in disguise.

  -Twenty-eight-

  Lydia

  An hour after the game ended the bar started to clear out and shortly after that, the Knights took their Harley’s too, leaving me and Nico to close shop. I was surprised he even showed for his shift, so when everyone else left and he stuck around I was even more shocked. Instead of being a dick, he did his job and joked with me some. Who knew Nico had a sense of humor? Not me that’s for sure.

  “Hey, it’s pretty dead, you mind if I go out back and make a phone call? My brother is kind of going through a crisis and I ignored his calls while we were busy.”

  He’s compassionate too, go figure.

  Oh, and ladies, rumor has it he’s one hell of a dancer.

  “Sure,” I reply. “I’m going to finish up here and then I think we can close early.”

  “Alright, I’ll be right back,” he says as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. I watch as he makes his way out from behind the bar and heads down the hallway out of sight. Grabbing a rag, I start to wipe down the bar. My mind wanders to Bash. I didn’t have much time to question what was going on, but it had to be serious for him to leave because he hasn’t left my side since I started staying with him.

  Living with him has been an experience that’s for sure and I mean that in the best way. When my grandma sensed things were going downhill with me and Declan, she’d tell me, ‘Bella, he isn’t the one you’re going to spend the rest of your life with. That man hasn’t come into your life yet.’ Of course I didn’t believe her but once my grandma put something in her head, she was persistent about it and she often reminded me that the man I was destined to spend forever with wouldn’t mind my flaws. She said this faceless man would embrace my fears and find my silly quirks cute. Our differences wouldn’t be something we hoped to change in one another, but rather something that inspired us to grow as a couple.

  I wish she was here so I could tell her she was right, that my twin flame was waiting for me in Texas. I also wish she was here to give me some advice. I fucked up by not telling Bash the whole story when I had the chance, now I don’t know how to tell him I’m still married or that I left Declan after I pressed charges against him and have been hoping he doesn’t find me since he’s been released from prison. I think she’d tell me to bite the bullet because gram was feisty like that. Perhaps she’d tell me, it’s okay, that he’ll give me a pass this once. Everyone makes mistakes. The right person won’t go running for the hills, he won’t leave me all alone when I’ve given him my whole heart. He’ll accept my apology, take my hand and together, we’ll assure one another the best is yet to come.

  Yeah, maybe she’d tell me the winning lotto numbers too.

  The front door opens, jarring me away from my thoughts—so much for closing early. Fixing a smile to my face, I turn around to greet the patron. All the blood drains from my face as I look into my husband’s eyes and the gun he has pointed at me.

  “Honey, I’m home,” he sneers.

  The silent screams and all the ways I pleaded for him to stop resurface in an instant.

  The abuse I harbored for years because I was too ashamed to speak of it and every dreadful emotion it all paralyzes me.

  I’ve thought about this moment since they locked him up, how he’d come for me and make me pay for exploiting every horrible thing he did to me and now, that it’s finally come, I’m the same girl who stood still as he burned me. There’s no fight.

  No will to break free.

  There’s only fear.

  All the progress I’ve told myself I made doesn’t exist.

  In this moment I’m a victim of domestic abuse.

  I’m a statistic.

  I’m the reason you pin a purple ribbon to your shirt in the month of October.

  Tears well in my eyes as he holds the gun with one hand and flicks his cigarette with the other. The sight of him is too much to bear so I look downward and that’s when I notice his shirt is streaked with blood. I gasp and he grins like the evil villain he is.

  “Oh, don’t look so disgusted. You didn’t think I’d let you get away, did you? That I’d let another man, have you?”

  Dread churns inside me and I immediately think of Bash.

  “What did you do?” I shriek.

  “What did I do?” he repeats the question. “What the fuck did you do? Sleep with the fucking borough? I couldn’t get you to open your legs and here you are opening them for a married man and some fucking chico. Tell me, Lydia, did you spread them for all the bikers or were you selective with who you let in that dry cunt.”

  I swallow, shaking my head.

  “You didn’t. Oh god, please tell me you didn’t.”

  “You’re a pig,” he sneers. “A filthy fucking animal who locked up a husband who loved her, so she could whore herself out to a bunch of low lives.”

  The familiar questions I used to ask myself as I cried myself to sleep, run rampantly through my head. Questions like how I ever loved him and why did I ever allow him to treat me like this.

  I’ve waisted years on this man, searching for a truth that never existed, begging for love from a person incapable of the emotion. Years holding the hands responsible for my bruises. I haven’t visited my grandmother’s grave in two years because I’ve been too scared, he’d find me. I sold the rings my grandfather put on her finger to get away.

  He took everything from me.

  My heart.

  My family.

  My trust.

  My friend.

  He took my soul now he wants my life.

  Rage begins to engulf me as years of resentment leaks from my pores. His lips move but I don’t hear a word he says. I stare at the blood on his shirt and picture Chaz’s face as I reach under the bar and into my bag.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he bellows. “Put your hands in the air
where I can see them. This is my fucking show, I decide how it ends. Did you forget that? Maybe I should remind you.”

  My fingers close around the gun and with my hands trembling like a leaf, I raise it and point it directly at him.

  “Not anymore you don’t.”

  A flicker of surprise radiates from his eyes and he releases an evil laugh.

  “You really are a joke, aren’t you?”

  “I’m done being the victim, you can’t hurt me anymore. You don’t get to take anything else from me,” I shout, tears streaming down my cheeks. “The joke is on you because you walked into the wrong bar,” I add, fumbling with the safety on the gun.

  “Oh, I’m shaking in my boots,” he taunts, tossing the cigarette to the ground. “You don’t got the guts to pull the trigger.”

  “Probably not, but I do.”

  Sure I’ve imagined the sound of his voice, I turn towards the door and spot Bash aiming his own gun at Declan. All the noise fades away and time begins to move in slow motion. Declan turns to face Bash and in a split-second, a gun fired. Unable to watch Bash fall to the ground, knowing this is all my fault that I brought death to him, it’s all too much.

  Another shot is fired.

  Pop!

  And another.

  Pop!

  A hand closes around mine and my eyes spring open with fear. Nico’s face registers and I try to make out what he’s saying but I’ve disconnected mentally from everything, I let him pry the gun from my fingers and sob uncontrollably before turning around to face the scene of the crime.

  Standing over the body, Bash lifts his head and our eyes lock.

  “You’re okay,” I cry. “You’re okay.

  He doesn’t answer me.

  I search his eyes for the familiar warmth I’ve grown to love, but those beautiful blue eyes are cold and uninviting.

  He drops his gun to the floor and reaches into his kutte for his phone. Keeping his eyes pinned to me, he swipes his finger across the screen and raises the phone to his ear.

  “Yeah,” he says to whoever is on the other line. “It wasn’t the cartel who sent the note and tampered with the car, it was Lydia’s husband.”