Road Warriors (Motorcycle Club Romance Collection) (Bad Boy Collections Book 4)

by Faye, Amy

  "I can walk," he protested, but she didn't let him down. He could claim that he could walk all he liked, but she knew better because she had seen the sort of walking that her son could do right now. Trying to get him over to the bed he'd stumbled twice, and barely managed to hold himself up with her helping him over.

  Her heart wasn't ready to watch him do that across an entire hotel. There was no way. No way at all.

  The woman's voice on the other end of the line was far away. Lara couldn't hold the phone to her head and carry her son at the same time. He was a bit big for that, at ten, and he wasn't exactly helping her to carry him. Whatever it was going to take to help her carry him, he didn't have it inside her.

  She reached the lobby in three minutes, and the EMTs got there two minutes after that. She didn't have a watch to count but she could feel every second like it was draining out of her, waiting there, Tim laid out on a dining room chair.

  They started talking to Tim and a moment later, the two men picked her son up and started walking. They managed to make it to the door just as Paul walked inside. His eyes shot wide as he saw them walk by. Lara ignored him.

  He'd ignored her long enough, himself, and for that matter she had other things to worry about. So maybe she should have told him what was going on, but she didn't. Instead, she climbed into the back of an ambulance with her son and hoped and prayed that the EMTs would be able to figure out what was wrong with him before something started going really wrong.

  He'd been so hot when she touched him…

  One of the EMTs felt his forehead; the other reached without waiting for a thermometer and handed it over to his partner. They must have felt his heat because they also immediately reached into a compartment and pulled out what looked like freezer packs and put one on his head. Tim pulled away, but they held him fast, and then they were driving.

  Somewhere in the night, Paul was no doubt wondering what was going on. He had every right to know what was happening, that was true. Tim was his son, after all, even if he didn't know and very well may not have cared.

  But if he really wanted to know what was going on, and how he could possibly help, then he should have picked up the phone the first four times.

  23

  Paul watched her go with a frown. The entire moment seemed to crystallize, and for the space of a heartbeat, a heartbeat that seemed to wait on him forever, he didn't know what the hell he was supposed to do.

  Tim? Ambulance? The engine was still running and they pulled away seconds later. Paul was already out the door trying to follow it.

  His vehicle had gone, but not far. He flagged it down as it came around the turnstile and threw himself into the back seat.

  "Follow that ambulance," he gasped. The engine revved softly, almost inaudible inside the climate-controlled cabin of a hundred-thousand-dollar SUV that had been converted practically into a limousine. The effects, though, were not hard to feel at all. The SUV started to hurry quickly after, no questions asked.

  That was what Paul liked about secret service. They didn't bother to ask questions when he needed something. It was a delightful relief from every other part of his daily life.

  "Is everything okay, sir?"

  "My…" Two words in, and he suddenly realized that he didn't know what he was supposed to say. "The boy, he's… I don't know. Sick, or hurt, or… something."

  "We'll get you there, then," the guy said. He went quiet, apparently focusing on the road and on his driving, and they drove for a long time in relative silence, no noise save for the engine's soft moan and the occasional noise of turn signals being clicked and fingers that gripped the steering wheel too tightly.

  They turned and darted through traffic. Paul didn't bother to ask what speed they were going, or if it was legal. Of course it wasn't, he knew, but they weren't exactly in a position to question an ambulance, and he wasn't going to lose it either.

  They screamed around a corner and a minute later they were outside of ambulance receiving for Sacramento Mercy General. He climbed out and followed them inside, not taking no for an answer. When there was no choice to be made, it was easier not to ask.

  "What's happening," he asked, out of breath in spite of the fact that he had only been sitting for most of that time. His body felt heavy and it was hard to keep up with them as they moved. He'd been out of the gym far, far too long. But he kept moving anyways, and his body relented, loosening up and allowing him slightly freer movement as time went on.

  Lara shot him a look, one that he no-doubt deserved but didn't understand. But she didn't answer, until the doctors showed up and they were asked by an orderly to wait in the lobby while the doctors had a look. Lara would be informed once there was something to inform her of.

  She looked at him with an expression that could have started a forest fire for a long time, saying nothing. Then she turned, and again saying nothing, she stormed off toward the front lobby. At least, the direction that the signs pointed in for the lobby, since neither of them had been through it.

  Paul followed after her a moment later, trying to give her whatever space he could, not sure that it would end up mattering. She seemed so furious that he wasn't sure anything was really likely to calm her down except perhaps a long wait, a good night's sleep, and a large bottle of something that burned on its way down her throat.

  He settled into the seat next to her and didn't look at her. That seemed to be the next best thing to what she wanted, and he wasn't going to make things any more difficult than he had to, not yet.

  Eventually, maybe she'd tell him what was going on. That was, of course, if she even knew herself what that was. He mopped his head with the side of one finger and found it came away damp. He looked at it a moment. Far, far too long. He could excuse it as the excitement but it was more than that, too. He was tired and he'd been tired before he ever started.

  It wasn't that he'd outdone himself. He was suddenly realizing that he wasn't as capable as he'd been only a few weeks ago. What did that even mean? Did he need to check himself in here as well, right next to Tim?

  That would at least get him quicker updates on the boy's condition. He smiled without thinking, and the moment he noticed it he forced it back off his face. It wasn't funny and he needed to be at least a little bit sensitive, for once in his life. Today was a good day to try to get started being a decent human being, even if it weren't likely.

  "I'm sorry," he said. He didn't know what he was sorry for, but he knew Lara was angry, and if she was angry then he assumed it must be for a good reason.

  "You didn't answer my calls," she said. Her voice rasped a little, but she didn't clear her throat. "I called you, but you didn't pick up."

  "I'm sorry, my phone was… charging, I think. In the car."

  "Where even were you?"

  He looked at her and took a breath. Part of him wanted to turn this into a fight. That part was always itching for something, to pick fights and make sure that everything he did turned into a problem. Well, not this time. Not if he could help it. Paul stuffed that reaction to the back of his mind and forced himself to dredge up the single speck of humility that he had.

  "I was working. There was an interview for TV. I got the call last-minute."

  "Oh, a call. An interview. I'm glad to hear that." She bit every word off like it was the only thing that would save her son from… he still didn't know what was wrong with Tim, and there was part of the Senator that didn't want to know. If he didn't know it was because it wasn't a big deal. If there were something serious, then he would be told, because he always learned everything worth knowing.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

  She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, and Lara looked for a moment like she was trying to find some kind of serenity. Serenity that was eluding her. It was hard, he knew. When you were worried, it was harder still, but he didn't need that as an excuse to lose his own temper.

  Everything around him seemed to constantly be ready to lash out at him, and w
hen it wasn't, he made sure that he was ready to lash right back even if it were innocent. He'd tried to manage that response over the years, and he'd made a good deal of progress, but it would never truly be enough.

  "I'm sorry," he repeated. "I should have had my phone."

  "You're right, you should have."

  He took the sting from the words, hopefully the way that she'd intended them. If she was mad and wanted to hurt him, then more power to her. She had every right to be upset, every right to be angry, and he wasn't going to try to bother taking it away from her.

  "What do we know so far?"

  She let out a long, low breath. "A hundred and three."

  "… A hundred and three… fever?"

  "That's what the EMT said. A hundred and three."

  He let out a long breath of his own this time. That was high. That wasn't just high, it was astronomically high, and he wasn't sure what they were going to do about it. But they were in the hospital already, he told himself.

  If anyone knew what to do, it would be doctors. Hopefully, unlike politicians, they weren't strong believers in getting to where you were by lying, cheating and stealing. But if they were, it would only serve him right, Paul thought sourly. He was going to have to pay for what he'd done at some point.

  24

  Lara Green was being a bitch, and she knew it, and she couldn't stop. So instead, she did the next best thing, and did nothing at all. On the opposite wall a television was showing news. She watched it with half her attention on it and half her attention waiting for any moment when someone was going to come rushing out to tell her that her son was going to be just fine.

  He'd just put a hot pack on his head, it was a big hoax and everyone could go home happy, laughing that it was nothing. But that didn't happen, so she was left waiting with half her attention on the television.

  It was some kind of panel show that she couldn't stand, but it was almost to the hour so they were wrapping it up. That was something, at least. They cut finally to a replay of Alice Rogan's show. The intro was like all intros to news programs, overdone and far, far too much. That being said, Tim liked her. Part of Lara wondered if it was because of her looks, but the boy was young.

  Alice was an impressive-looking woman. Lara couldn't begin to guess her age, but she was certainly at least old enough to have children. The fact that she looked like she was still barely out of high school, at least in terms of the lines on her face and the bright, attractive blonde hair was a statement in and of itself.

  She leaned back in the chair and wished that she'd taken one by the wall, so she could lay her tired head back. The subtitles along the bottom didn't seem to match up terribly closely with what was being said, so she didn't know what was being said right away, but she recognized the guest the second that he walked on.

  Paul sat beside her, looking off into the distance at nothing in particular. He looked down and tired, even downright exhausted. But on the television he looked bright and cheerful and everything he didn't look right now. She wondered how much of that tiredness was because of what was happening with Tim, and how much of the energy on Alice's program was a show that he put on for the world.

  The subtitles, seconds behind, finally introduced Paul Green, Democratic Senator and Presidential hopeful. He sat down and they made small talk that didn't catch up until a few seconds after it was spoken. They talked about the economy, about foreign policy, about the never-ending wars in the middle east.

  Then, in the middle of a subtitle where he was making a joke about paying too much in tax, the video version of Paul sat back with a considering look.

  The question caught up with him right as his lips started moving. "So, I hear that you've got a new guest flying with you, do you want to talk about that?"

  Lara stood up and turned, trying to think of what to say. Trying to think of how she could possibly phrase her worry and doubt and how he could possibly answer.

  He looked up at her with a tired, almost pathetically sad expression, and then his eyes flickered to the television screen and his head dropped into his hands without a word.

  "You saw that, huh?"

  "What the fuck were you even thinking?"

  Paul averted his eyes a moment, looked around the room and apparently decided that he had time to respond after all.

  "I told you, it was a last-minute interview."

  "So you decided to talk about me without even asking? Without even consulting for one second on whether or not I wanted to be some kind of B-list celebrity?"

  "I just told them that you were an old friend of mine, we'd met when you were in law school, and that you were just offering a certain outside perspective. It's hard to get your head outside of D.C. once you start living there."

  Lara's mood didn't improve at the suggestion.

  "You should have consulted with me first," she repeated.

  "You're right. I made a decision and it was the wrong one." Paul seemed tired, and for a moment she almost felt bad. But at the same time, that tiredness made it seem as if he was just saying whatever he thought she wanted to hear. Well, she could play that game, too.

  "Thank you." She wasn't pleased and she made sure that it showed in her voice. "Is there anything else?"

  "No," he sighed. "I just… she wanted me to talk about it, and I thought that it would be better to talk about it now, rather than have someone start making up stories."

  "Or telling the truth, you mean."

  Paul shrugged tiredly as Lara glowered at him. "I'm not trying to defend myself here, Lara. I'm not."

  "Then why do you keep trying?"

  "I made a judgment call. It was clearly the wrong one and I'm sorry that I didn't consult with you. But that was why I did it. Is that good enough, or…?"

  Lara huffed and rubbed her head. It ached from everything.

  "So is there anything else you're not telling me?" If he was lying to her about everything then at least it would make her feel a little better because she wasn't going to stop lying to him. That wasn't really an option at this point, anyways, she told herself. It didn't make her feel any better.

  "I don't think so," he said, his voice tired. "I think Helen's plotting something."

  "Something like what?"

  Paul shrugged. "Something."

  Lara let herself settle into a chair, a different one this time. "So what? Now I'm on television?"

  "Not yet. I made very sure that nobody ever said your name, and especially not Tim's name. I only ever talked about you as a friend, one I met in law school a long time ago. If your name were to get out, then it would be a non-story at this point, because I already discussed who you are. Reporters would see that the story was already there and they'd probably drop it before anything could even come out of it."

  "And you thought that was what I'd like? For you to go out and put my story out there?"

  "No, I just… Look, I had my reasons, okay? I'm not saying I was right, but I'm saying I did think about it before I talked to her."

  "You could have just left me out of it, though," Lara repeated. Whatever he was trying to say, if he wanted to explain then he had better explain. If he wanted her to believe him, then the first step to that would have to be actually coming out and talking to her about whatever the fuck he was keeping from her.

  He made no effort to do so up til that point and he made no effort to do so now. She let out a huff and stood, walking frustratedly to the vending machine as a large woman walking on two canes came through the front door.

  Paul stepped up behind her; Lara heard him rather than saw him. His arms wrapped around her and he held her close. "I'm sorry," he repeated again. "I didn't mean to upset you."

  She turned and looked in his eyes, and made the decision in that moment that she wasn't going to keep fighting.

  "I'll forgive you," she offered. "If you'll buy me a candy bar."

  "Just a candy bar?"

  "You mean I could ask for more?" She raised an eyebrow and smiled.
<
br />   He seemed like he was about to say something, and then he reached into his wallet and pulled out a five dollar bill.

  "What do you want?"

  "I want what I always wanted. A happy, stable family, and a good job. I'll accept a Snickers, in this case."

  He looked down at her with one eyebrow raised, and then he punched A-2. A moment later, the candy bar made a loud thump as it hit the bottom of the machine. He reached down, grabbed it, and when she took it his lips pressed against hers and the little that remained of her anger melted away in spite of herself.

  She pulled away from him, though. If she let him work his magic on her for too long then she was going to end up bent over in a bathroom stall, and it wasn't a good time for that.

  Maybe later, she thought, and then immediately regretted it. She shouldn't even be thinking about that when her son was in the ER. But it hadn't stopped the thought from crossing her mind.

  What did that even say about her?

  25

  Paul's gut tightened and he watched her walk away. The woman who had just walked in made her slow, lumbering way across the room and settled into a chair that he was honestly surprised she could fit into.

  Then again, the chairs in the waiting room were surprisingly large; he reassessed to deciding that the chairs were just much too large for any reasonable person, but for a woman her size, they were probably just about right.

  He fished out a bag of M&Ms from the tray at the bottom of the machine, took his last dollar of quarters from the machine that really ought to have been cheaper. In a hospital, though, the audience certainly is a captive one, and that must have made some difference in the overall price.

  He settled into a seat beside Lara again and pulled open his M&Ms from one side.

  "M&M?"

  He held the bag aloft as if she might not have known what he was offering, or what an M&M even was. She took a bite of the candy bar he'd given her and shook her head. He looked at her again, almost as if he were seeing her for the first time now.