by Paula Cox
That sigh brings me to my knees. In all the excitement over making my kill shot, I completely forgot that I am a dead man walking as well. Cobra’s jab to my side is still bleeding into my soaked, red stained tank. With every deep breath I take in, I can feel the hole split open just a tiny bit more. I try to hold it in, to catch my breath in my throat, so I don’t have to work as hard, but it’s useless. My eyes scan the crowd, desperately searching for Sunny, but she’s gone; whisked away somewhere that’s not here. I try to call out for her, but my voice is stuck and airy.
“Get up!” Vance calls out, his guys racing toward me. Jack’s arms reach under mine, pulling me to my feet. A shooting, searing pain races through me, but I refuse to let it put me under again. I am not going to let this get to me. I bite down as hard as I can so that my teeth grind deep into one another.
“Come on, Bear,” Vance snaps, “We have to go—now!”
The silence is gone, replaced by violent and bloody screams. The Filthy Bastards have realized what has happened. They are seeing their second-in-command laid up at my feet, his blood pooling around him. And there I am, not quite standing, but still alive after being thought dead just minutes ago. Their president is nowhere to be found. I am guessing he’s gone with Sunny; escorting her to some car or a hospital. With no one in charge and the booze still flowing, I have no doubt what is on their minds.
Jack hurries me out and over the makeshift ring and through the gravel underpass. We take the long way through the line of Wilderkind lining up to defend me. I should have guessed my boys would be on my side.
Vance screams to them, “Get Bear outta here! Go! Now! Don’t let them get to him! Let’s go, boys! Hold your ground!”
Like soldiers, they line up shoulder to shoulder to block the gang from seeing where I am heading. But I have no idea either. It’s only when they throw me in one of the guy’s pickups, and head off the side street that follows the highway, that it dawns on me—I’m not going to the hospital.
“Vance! What the fuck are you doing? I have to be there, don’t you get it? I have to be with Sunny.” I can barely talk, let alone growl, but that’s what it comes out as. I try to grab his arm in some attempt to redirect the steering wheel.
“No way! Are you fucking crazy, man?” His eyes bulge in his wrinkled face as he explains, “Killer’s got her, and no doubt he’s looking out for you after you killed their second! What the fuck do you think is gonna happen if you walk into the hospital with a wound that big?”
“I’m f-f-fine,” I try to say as I push myself up into the seat. Every bump the truck passes over is agony.
“Like hell you are,” he says with an almost good-natured grin. “You’re about ten minutes away from dying, I can tell you that.” He looks ahead at the road, and adds, “I know a guy—a doctor. He’ll fix you up. Then it’s to the safe house till I fix the mess you left back there.”
I reach over again, this time managing to grab hold of his flannel shirt. I tug as hard as I can until he almost tumbles over me. I bring my voice down to a low rumble as I urge him, “Listen to me, man. You told me to fight for her and that baby, and I ain’t going to leave her now. I don’t care what happens to me. You get me to that fucking hospital, or I swear to God I will kill us both.”
I flash him one of the knives, my knife, the one I used in the fight. I have been holding it this entire time, unaware, until now, that Cobra’s blood is still dripping off it and onto my pant leg. I know what I am doing and what I am risking. Threatening the one guy that’s had my back— the guy who took me in and gave me a place in his club—was akin to mutiny. But he has to know. He has to see. I am not going to stop until I am with Sunny and that baby. I refuse to miss this.
He holds the hand that’s not on the steering wheel up in defense. His jaw slides from side to side as he seems to consider his words carefully.
“Put the knife down you dumb bastard,” he snarls. “If you really want to bleed out on the hospital floor, then that’s where I’ll bring ya. But keep your stupid fucking mouth shut for as long as you can. And nothing about the fight, you hear me?”
“Do you really think I’m that fucking stupid?” I spit at him.
I know the rules. There’s a reason why we don’t do hospitals—a damn good reason—and I’m not going anywhere near one now. We’ve got a vet and a nurse on duty and people to patch us up when we skid out on our bikes or when we got a guy who is strung out on a bad batch of blow or something. They’re happy to keep their mouths shut in exchange for cash. A hospital doesn’t work that way. There’s police, security guards, do-goody doctors in pristine white lab coats who won’t let you leave or get an extra dose of painkillers without knowing your full story.
Vance turns the truck around, swinging it wildly towards the highway exit. We both guess what hospital she’s gone to. L.A. General is the closest, and where most of the girls go for general things. No doubt Killer’s got connections with them given it’s in his territory. As we pull into the ER entrance, I order Vance, “Give me your shirt. I need to cover up the…” My mouth races but nothing’s coming up but the fresh taste of blood—a good reminder to keep my mouth closed unless necessary. Vance throws off his black and white flannel shirt and hands it to me. Carefully, I smooth it out over my stained top and slip out the side door.
Before I can close the door, Vance yells, “First floor to the right’s maternity. Good luck in there, kid. I’ll be outside if you need me.”
I know that I’m hobbling in. I’m grasping the walls with my hand clenched around my side as I avoid everyone’s gaze. I manage to sneak past the security station, where they’re checking IDs and handing out visitor passes, by hiding behind a large man and his family. They don’t notice as I duck down next to them as we make our way through the hospital’s main entrance and towards the elevator banks. I spot the maternity wing’s secured doors swinging open for a patient, and I know I’m not going to get any better chance than this. I take a deep breath, hold my wound, and run as fast I can. Each step feels as if it’s ripping me apart; pulling me at the seams. I am inches away from the large metal doors—that are about to smack me in the gut—but I squeeze through in time, landing on my hands and knees.
When I look up, I am staring straight at a pair of awfully familiar boots.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Killer whispers, yanking me to my feet by the arm. I let out a yelp of pain. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?”
But a small voice behind him gasps. “Bear?”
I look over his shoulder to see Sunny lying on a long, white hospital bed. A pale blue gown clings to her sweaty body. Her blonde hair is stuck to her face due to crying earlier. Her hand is wrapped around her belly while a nurse attempts to hold her down. I barrel my way through Killer, not caring who sees.
“Bear? Oh my God… I thought that you were… how are you…”
“Shhh,” I whisper to Sunny as I place a dirty, grimy hand on her warm forehead. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here now. Didn’t I tell you that I would be here for you?”
“Sir,” the nurse tells me, “I need you to step away from the patient.”
“He’s with me!” Sunny cries. “He’s the father!”
The nurse pushes her thick, black, round glasses up the bridge of her nose and tightens the bun she’s put her hair in. She glares at me critically, looking me over from top to bottom, sizing me up and apparently sensing that something isn’t quite right. I try to twist away from her so she can’t see the blood that’s stained the entire side of me, but she knows. In her job, the old pro has probably seen lots of patients, with partners like me.
“You can’t be here,” she says with an air of half scorn, half bemusement in her voice. “You need to go down to the emergency room immediately. We have a room for you, dear. The doctor will be in shortly, and we can get this show on the road.”
“No! I’m not letting her go anywhere without me!” I shout through my gritted teeth. I use the bed to help me sta
nd upright.
“Not like that, you’re not,” the nurse screeches.
“Please, nurse. Please!” Sunny begs through her tears. Another contraction rolls through her as we all turn our attention back to her. She squeals, “I can’t do it without him. Please!”
“Nurse Mabel?” A man in green scrubs suddenly appears behind me. He stands next to Killer, a weary smile on his weathered face. “He can stay. Get him a wheelchair and bring them to delivery room 3. I will take over from here.”
“But, Doctor, we have …”
“Nurse,” he repeats his order, “fetch the wheelchair before this man passes out. Stat.”
The nurse scowls but scurries away, muttering to herself under her breath as she goes.
A few moments later, she comes back with a large wheelchair that I immediately fall into. It isn’t until I hit the leather chair that I realize just how close I was to passing out back there. The nurse and an orderly push Sunny and me to the doorway of a darkened room decorated in pale pinks and blues. Soft music plays in the background, and the orderly takes Sunny inside while the nurse leaves me outside. A group of nurses hooks Sunny up to the blinking, buzzing machines.
The orderly comes for me next, but Killer stops him.
“I’ll take it from here,” he says before turning my chair towards him. I hold my breath as he kneels before me. “What you did in the ring is forgiven on one condition—you take care of her and that kid.”
“What?” I ask in disbelief. An eye for an eye is club creed around here. If I really did put Cobra ten feet under, there would be consequences to pay even if it happened during a fair fight. He forgiving that is no small deal.
He whispers as the nurses pass us. Out the corner of my eye, I see Sunny withering in her bed as the doctor lifts a white sheet over her hips.
Killer explains, “I know what Cobra did to her, and it’s my fault. I’ve got rules about that shit. If I’d known earlier, not been blind to it, I would’ve killed him myself.”
Killer sighs heavily. “I should have protected her better,” he says, his voice full of regret. “Maybe I should have claimed her for myself. But it’s too late for that now. She’s yours. You take her, and you keep that kid safe, you hear me? If I hear you do a thing to harm her or put her in danger again, I swear to God I’ll end you.”
“Are you ready?” The doctor stands in the doorway to the room. A nurse behind him hands him a pair of sterile gloves. I nod my head and Killer pushes me in towards Sunny’s bedside. He disappears before I can thank him.
“Bear,” Sunny whimpers, “I’m scared.”
“You don’t have to be anymore,” I reassure her. “I’m here. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you. I swear it.”
She lifts her hand out to me and asks, “Please, don’t let me go.”
“Never.”
Chapter Seventeen
Sunny
“Aww baby Bear wants his mommy!” Star coos as she hands me Charlie. He squirms in her arms, reaching his chubby fingers out towards me. They press against my eyes and face as I nestle him against my skin. It’s amazing how wonderful his tiny hugs are.
“Thanks for watching him, Star. I really appreciate the time off.” Being a mom is basically twenty-four-seven non-stop, even as Charlie is getting more and more independent. If I’m not watching him attempt to eat solid food, I’m monitoring how he rolls over or where he is crawling to. The little guy is just like his father—stronger than he thinks and constantly getting into trouble.
Today was my day off. In addition to being Charlie’s mom, I’ve become house mom to the Wilderkind girls. We didn’t have one back in the Filthy Bastards. There really wasn’t a girl who had been around long enough or who had been claimed like me to take that position. But I loved this job. I got to know what was going on in the club world without having to be in harm’s way, and I get a small paycheck from keeping the girls in line, getting them to their shifts, and making sure the boys were being fed and taken care of. It is the perfect fit for me.
Bear, on the other hand, would rather me stay at home and be a barefoot mom in the kitchen. But after a month of me trying that role, we both realized how silly it was to try to tie me down. After years with the Filthy Bastards, I have developed a taste for adventure and a need for a little danger in my life. And while Charlie’s sleepless nights and his love of rolling off furniture kept me on my toes, it sometimes wasn’t enough. I wanted more.
That’s how I landed this job. Vance was all for it—since it keeps me away from the fights and club gatherings. I don’t have to be that constant reminder of the delicate truce between the Filthy Bastards and the Wilderkind. The FB boys aren’t looking for the reason why Cobra’s death is going unavenged and why Bear gets to walk away with me by his side.
Before I turn to go, Star takes me by the wrist and pulls me to the corner of the room. She pins me in as she lowers her voice and looks down at her feet, “Sunny… I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” She nervously twists her fingers in her hand as she avoids my glare. “I have this friend… her name is Toni. She’s a girl I knew in high school. She had a real rough start of it, and she lost her apartment a few weeks ago. Do you think that we could…?”
“Star,” I scold her, “we can’t take in any more strays, especially not some girl we don’t know anything about. Vance wouldn’t approve of her.”
“She’s good. I promise! She used to bartend at this dive in San Jose. She was dating a guy with the Green Devils before he knocked her around and got both of them kicked out. I brought her here. She’s in the living room. Can you at least talk to her and see if you could convince Vance to keep her on?”
I sigh heavily as I make the decision whether or not to take up Star’s friend’s case. After my time with Cobra, any girl that’s gone through that pulls on my heart strings and makes me think twice. I was that girl with no place to go, no one to love, no family to call my own. If it weren’t for Killer taking me in, I wouldn’t have found the Filthy Bastards. If it weren’t for Kitka needling me into that bet to nail Bear, I wouldn’t have had Charlie. There is good to come from life in a club, and there can be diamonds made out of rocks.
“Yeah,” I relent with a heavy sigh, “I’ll meet her.”
Star leads Charlie and me back towards the living room where a young woman lounges on the black leather sofa. She types mindlessly on her phone, not even bothering to look up as we make our way inside.
“Hey! Aimee?” Star coughs to get her attention. When Aimee looks up from her screen, I see myself six, seven, eight years ago. Her face is cold and passing, but her eyes light up like firecrackers. She adjusts her leather moto jacket and smiles with her glossy red lips.
“Sorry.” She blushes and tucks the phone under her crossed leg.
I let out the breath I’ve been holding in before reaching out my free hand. “I’m Sunny. I’m the house mom for the Wilderkind. Star was telling me about your situation.”
“She was, was she?” Her glossy eyes roll as she looks back at her friend. “What did she tell you?”
I’m unfazed by this. I can deal with attitude like the best of them. I wrangle a ten-month-old and a group of bitchy girls all day. Nothing could get to me. “Yeah, well, she told me you were with the Green Devils before you got roughed up.”
“He hit me a few times. No biggie.” She passes it off, but I can tell there’s hurt there in the way she hugs her bronzed arms around herself, almost as if she is holding in a shudder.
“I’m really sorry to hear that. The Wilderkind don’t let our boys do that. But there are a few rules.”
She puts her hands up in the air to stop me. “I don’t do rules, lady.”
“I’m not ‘lady.’ My name is Sunny, and I’m in charge here. You wanna hear them or do you wanna go back to wherever you came from?”
Aimee purses her lips together as she spits back, “To me, it looks like you are just someone who managed to get herself knocked up.”
I continue on, “The first rule is that you can’t be branded by another club. You get claimed like that? Are the Devils looking for you?”
She pauses before answering, “No. They’re not. They wouldn’t know where to look if they did.”
“Good.” I nod. My mind drifts back to the tattoo covering my own branding scar. Charlie’s blue colored footprint covers the mark where the Filthy Bastards put their mark on me years ago.
“The second rule is that you can’t have relationships with boys outside the club. You seeing anyone?”
“That’s none of your damn business.”
“It is my fucking business, Aimee. When you cross club lines, you don’t just put yourself in danger, you put everyone here in the line of fire. I’m not going to have you get my girls in trouble. If you’re gonna join up with the Wilderkind girls, you best keep those legs shut and stay true to our boys.”