Suddenly, the lights blazed to life and Chloe saw the unblinking gaze of Shantel staring up into the heavens. Dead. A big, bloody wound covered the center of her chest.
“No!”
Chloe spun. A man stood not too far away, staring in absolute disbelief and shock at the lifeless body on the ground. He must have pulled off his goggles earlier because they tumbled from his hand to the ground. He turned hate-filled eyes her way, staring at the blood-tipped knife she still gripped in her hand, and raised his gun. She sucked in a deep breath, bracing for the impact of a bullet, and a shot went off. Chloe jerked in response, and it took a moment for her brain to catch up to the fact that she wasn’t in pain and she wasn’t bleeding. Another man rushed forward to yank on the downed man’s arm while leveling his own weapon on her.
“Come on,” the second man muttered as he tugged on the first guy’s arm. “Our advantage is gone.”
Romeo marched out, a pistol in each hand, his face set in a cold mask of determination.
“I’ll shoot her!” the second man yelled.
“No, Romeo, he’ll kill her!” Dax shouted.
Romeo halted. His aim never wavered. “Are you Vicious?”
The man lifted his chin.
Chloe took that as a yes.
“You kill him and I’ll kill her,” Vicious said. “So keep your woman breathing, you’re going to let us walk away.”
Hatred lined every surface of Romeo’s face, but he nodded.
“You take your men and get out of here with the knowledge that as soon as my men have been treated, I am going to hunt your ass down and kill you,” he vowed.
Through all this, the first man never took his hate-filled gaze off her, and Chloe knew if she believed in fate, she was staring at her death. Vicious managed to convince him to leave, and they, along with their men, backed up until they were out of the gate. One of the men rolled it shut, and once again, they were back behind a fortified wall.
She turned and sprinted to Dax and Romeo. A moment later, she was in their embraces and she hugged them both tightly, relishing the fact that they were both with her—and unhurt.
Chapter Seventeen
Dax watched Chloe work on the wounded. She’d already declared that two had to be taken to the hospital, so they’d called the sheriff. He’d find out anyway since gunshot victims were immediately reported. As he looked around, he didn’t see Hawg or Wrench, so he headed toward the shack that held the back-up generator.
It was located in the upper north corner of the compound, and as he approached, his gut tightened, the type of warning he’d learned to heed over the years. He palmed his pistol once more and stood to the side as he slowly pushed the door open. Wrench lay propped on against the wall, holding his bleeding stomach. Next to him lay Hawg, seemingly unconscious, and on the other side of the generator was Bandit. There was absolutely no doubt that he was dead since a bloody, round hole lay in the middle of his forehead.
“He… He sabotaged the generator,” Wrench whispered. “Hawg and I caught him breaking it. He hit Hawg. He shot me. I shot him.”
“And you fixed the lights.”
“Yes.”
Dax pulled out his cell and called Chloe.
“Dax?” she questioned.
“Get to the generator shed. Wrench has been gut shot.”
“On my way.”
She hung up. Dax bent to check Hawg. The man moaned and stirred, so he knew he would be okay, but Wrench had him worried. And by the weary look in Wrench’s eyes, the man knew his wound was serious.
A moment later, Chloe rushed into the small shack with her medical bag. She fell to her knees beside Wrench and pulled on some gloves before gently probing his belly.
“He needs to get to a hospital, ASAP,” she said grimly. She opened a large package that said ‘Sterile’ on it and put the gauze over the bleeding wound. Then she placed one of his hands on top of it. “Hold this as tightly as you can, okay?”
“Okay,” Wrench whispered.
Hawg groaned and sat up. He looked around and his attention landed on Wrench. “Oh, shit!”
Chloe walked over to him and squatted to shine a flashlight in his eyes. “Any dizziness? Blurred vision? Your pupil response looks fine.”
“No,” Hawg said. “I’m just pissed off that asswipe got the jump on me.”
“Then would you mind directing the ambulance here as soon as it arrives?” she asked. “Out of everyone, Wrench’s wound needs to be addressed immediately.”
“Am I gonna die?” Wrench asked.
Chloe shook her head. “Of course not. Dax, why don’t you make arrangements for Petunia to come wait with him?”
“No,” Wrench mumbled. “I don’t want to…to worry her.”
“Well, I don’t want to face her wrath when she learns I sent her husband to the hospital and didn’t tell her,” she said dryly. “Would you?”
One side of his mouth crooked upward in a semblance of a grin and he shook his head.
Dax pulled out his cell and made a call while Hawg left to go wait for the ambulance. Wrench raised his hand toward her and Chloe grabbed it, holding tight.
“Wrench?”
“I need you to tell Petunia something for me—”
“Shh,” Chloe said. “No death bed confessions allowed. You’re going to the hospital because you need emergency surgery, but I’ll be with you, Wrench. Okay? I’ll ask to scrub in so I can make sure you get the best care.”
Wrench nodded, but his face scrunched up into a grimace. Dax hated to see his Brother suffering.
He hung up his call. “Hook is escorting Petunia. She should be here any minute.”
“See?” Chloe said, smiling at Wrench. “You can tell her whatever it is yourself.”
A second later, his wife, Petunia, rushed inside. She took one look at the scene, at the dead man, at her husband with blood all over his belly, and she emitted a little distressed cry.
“I got a hole in my new T-shirt,” Wrench said then coughed.
“Well, now it matches all your others,” Petunia replied softly as she smoothed the hair around his face.
EMTs entered the now-cramped space, and Dax took hold of Chloe’s arm and maneuvered them both out of the way. Except for a quick check to see if Bandit needed any help, the two men seemed focused. They worked on Wrench, asking questions, taking vitals. It seemed to take forever before they finally loaded him onto a stretcher and many times Dax wanted to threaten them with bodily harm. But then Petunia was following them into the ambulance, leaving Dax and Chloe standing in the small shed with a corpse at their feet.
And not just any dead body—a traitor—one of their own.
“I have to go,” Chloe said. “I have to get to the hospital so I can ask to scrub in.”
Dax took her into his arms and kissed her, hard. There was no passion behind the gesture, only the taste of desperation. They both could have lost their lives tonight and suddenly the thought of not having her around, of something devastating happening to her, filled him with a sense of dread. He watched her walk toward the ambulance and talk with the driver before sliding into the passenger seat. Just as the ambulance left the compound, the sheriff’s car drove in. He sighed. It was going to be one hell of a long night.
Chapter Eighteen
“I want that bitch dead!”
Bizerk paced back and forth in the small living room with a bandage covering part of his face. Vicious was glad that the bullet had only grazed him. He didn’t know what he’d do if something happened to Bizerk. The remaining men of the Double Guns sat around, waiting for the next move. Vicious drank a beer and watched his partner, silently applauding the spitfire who had finally had the strength to kill Shantel. Bizerk had been in love, but Vicious hated the cunt, mainly because Bizerk loved her. He hadn’t wanted her on the raid, but Bizerk had thought she’d be an asset. Now, he was extremely glad she’d been in the right place at the right time to get herself killed.
“You should be focus
ed on how our foolproof plan was anything but,” he commented. “How the hell did they regain control of the generator?”
Bizerk spun and marched up to him, standing nose to nose. “My girl is dead, Vicious! How can I possibly care about what the hell happened?”
“Because we don’t want it happening again, do we?”
“I want that Chink dead,” he repeated, his tone flat and absolute.
“Fine. Let’s think about our next move, and I promise you can have first dibs on killing the Asian bitch.”
Bizerk nodded and resumed his pacing. “They’ll probably be at the hospital. We should attack there.”
“What, now?”
Bizerk shrugged. “Why not? They won’t be expecting it. What they will expect is for us to lick our wounds and give them enough time to gather their strength. You heard Romeo, he’s going to come gunning for us. This way we can keep them off guard.”
Vicious thought about what was probably happening at the Men of Hell compound. He had no doubt that Romeo now knew who was behind all the attacks. He’d lost three men tonight, not including Bandit, his inside spy. It had been Bandit’s job to cut the power and make sure the backup power generator couldn’t be restarted, giving them the tactical advantage with the night-vision goggles. And since the floodlights had come on, well, losing Bandit was a huge loss to his plans. When he’d met the man in a bar in Omaha, he’d taken it as a sign that it was time to leave his club and start his own. Bandit had painted a good picture. An easy picture. Just eliminate the two men running the Men of Hell and the rest would fall like dominoes since Romeo had killed the last president in cold blood. This night should have ended with only two men dead—Romeo and Boone. Bandit had assured him of Romeo’s inability to rule and Boone’s inability to care, but the Men of Hell hadn’t fought like a group on the cusp of imploding. They’d fought as a club, together, watching one another’s backs.
Bizerk was right. They couldn’t wait. Right now, the group was probably divided with some at the hospital and others stuck talking with the cops. It would be relatively easy to infiltrate Bair Memorial and find out where the Men of Hell were being treated because people usually saw two or more bikers and grouped them together. If they took out the wounded men, that would further weaken Romeo’s ranks and morale.
“All right,” he said and set the bottle of beer on the counter. “We’ll do it your way. The fewer men the better, so everyone else get some rest. Tomorrow we’ll start rethinking how to get Romeo and Boone.”
* * * *
When the ambulance arrived at the emergency entrance, Chloe jumped out of the cab and rushed around to watch the hospital staff take out Wrench. Dr. Pinder looked surprised to see her.
“Victim was shot approximately thirty minutes ago,” she told him, completely focused on Wrench’s gurney being lowered. “Epigastric area, maybe upper umbilical. The bullet is still inside. I applied sterile gauze and had him hold pressure.”
The EMTs began spouting off blood pressure and other vitals, as a weeping Petunia came out of the ambulance last. As soon as she saw Chloe, she wiped her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Chloe gave her a supportive nod before rushing behind Dr. Pinder.
“I would like to scrub in, Doctor,” she said as they hurried down the hallway.
“You’re not on duty.”
“No, but his wife trusts me,” she said. “They’re my friends.”
“All right,” Dr. Pinder replied.
Chloe shot off to the locker room to change into scrubs and get the OR prepped. She didn’t have a lot of time.
She quickly gathered all the items she thought she might need for an open stomach surgery, including the wrapped sterile instrument cases, before hurrying into the operating room. She saw Susan prepping as well, but ignored her. Her focus lay entirely on helping Wrench. The last thing she wanted to do was have to go out there and tell her new friend that something bad had happened to her husband.
Wrench was put under and the exploratory surgery began. They had to retrieve the bullet and make sure there wasn’t any internal bleeding. Several hours later, Dr. Pinder sewed him up, and for the first time, Chloe took a relieved breath behind her mask. Wrench was going to be fine. The bullet had ripped through the top part of his stomach but had missed his spine by centimeters. He’d have to take it easy for a few weeks, and eat squishy foods, but barring anything unforeseen, like a nasty infection, Wrench would make a full recovery. He was damn lucky.
As he was wheeled out, Susan stepped up to her. They’d worked the whole case as civil co-workers, pushing aside any personal difficulties in favor of what was best for the patient. But now, Chloe eyed the nurse and waited for her to say her peace.
“You’re a psychopath who has no business dealing with patients,” Susan said, her voice a little distorted by the stitches still in her tongue. “But you’re a damn good surgical assistant. You have a level head and you cared about this man. I’m going to keep my eye on you and if you do anything to harm someone else, I won’t hesitate to write you up. And I don’t care if you threaten me or not.”
Chloe narrowed her gaze but Susan didn’t flinch, although she did swallow nervously. It took guts to say that, and Chloe gave a nod of acknowledgment. Susan turned and left the room, her back ramrod straight.
Chloe couldn’t help but smile at the woman’s courage. It took balls to stand up to a bully, and Chloe realized her actions had been exactly that. Not nice and definitely not those of someone who had her shit together. She didn’t make excuses for her actions, but she knew she needed to work on her anger issues.
The question was—did Romeo and Dax really want her for herself, or for the eroticism she brought to the table? She wasn’t stupid. She knew the picture she painted because she’d worked hard to paint that canvas. After her childhood, the last thing she’d wanted to be as an adult was a victim. That word was almost as bad as obsessive. The shrinks had told her that she could be dealing with post-traumatic stress the rest of her life but she’d given them the finger on their suggestions. Perhaps it was time to reevaluate things. She didn’t think she could do psychiatrists again, but maybe she should tell Dax and Romeo about her last tangent. Just thinking Nathan’s name had shame filling her.
She placed the used equipment into the surgery cart and pushed it to the sterile processing room before heading out to find Petunia. Since it was early in the morning, the hospital was a dark echo of itself, relying on the bare minimum of energy to give the illusion of rest. Of course, a hospital never rested, not fully, and it gave the place a creepy quality she’d never thought about before.
Much to her surprise, Boone and Petunia stood talking with Dr. Pinder. When she walked up to them, Wrench’s old lady reached out and hugged her. It felt odd to have someone so thankful to see her—to have a friend—and it made Chloe’s heart flutter with happiness.
“Dr. Pinder tells me I can’t see him right now,” Petunia said.
Chloe met the doctor’s gaze over Petunia’s shoulder, and he shook his head.
“He’s resting in the post-anesthesia care unit right now,” Chloe told her. “The PACU nurses will take excellent care of him.”
Petunia pulled back, but held onto Chloe’s hands. “Will you look in on him, please? I’d feel better with someone I know checking on him.”
“I will,” she promised. “I’ll do that before I leave for the night, okay? You should go be with your kids. Alleviate their worry.”
“Thank you, Chloe.” With one more squeeze of her hands, Petunia let her go. She bent and grabbed her purse off a chair. “I’ll be back tomorrow, okay?”
“Sounds good. Get some rest.”
Chloe watched her friend leave. She glanced at Boone with a raised eyebrow.
“Are you done?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Then I’ll stay until you get dressed and take you back to the compound.”
“What about Petunia?”
“Her mom is coming to pick her up.�
�
“Oh. Okay. Well, give me about ten minutes.”
He nodded.
She and Dr. Pinder left the waiting room.
“You should become a nurse,” Dr. Pinder said. “Or a doctor.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t have the long-term patience to be either. I like helping people, but I don’t like the bureaucracy of the medical field. Goodnight, Doctor. Thank you for letting me scrub in with you on this case.”
“Anytime, Chloe.”
They parted company and she made her way back through the darkened halls to the PACU area. As she turned the corner, she saw two big men wearing leathers up ahead and her insides froze. They weren’t Men of Hell members. She knew most of them and these two weren’t wearing the MOH cuts. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. She followed them, thankful that her sneakers were silent on the floor.
The hospital had the bare minimum security since it had never had a situation arise where it needed more. Bair wasn’t a huge city and the crossroads were a parallel highway heading east and west. Chloe’s gut tightened and she knew who these bikers were before she even looked at their faces. Vicious and Bizerk had come to finish off some type of vendetta, and she couldn’t waste time trying to find a lone security guard who was probably hanging around some nurses’ station.
The two men headed to PACU. She had to protect Wrench. So while they walked to the main entrance, she turned and ran onto the surgery floor, taking a moment to grab a sterile preloaded scalpel from one of the OR rooms. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
At the recovery room, she peeked into it from the side window and saw the two nurses huddled together as one man held a gun on them. The other man stood next to a sleeping Wrench. She opened the scalpel package and held it behind her back, then she pushed open the door.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.
The man beside Wrench’s bed jerked and spun. She immediately identified him as the man who had been pissed at Shantel’s passing. His evil face darkened as he recognized her.
Mad Delights Page 14