by Ana Stone
If he’d posed the question to a brother in the club, or even his kin, the answer would have been the same. Club was family. Defending the club’s territory, business or people was something you did without question. Their loyalty was absolute and therein was the honor.
Zeke had a hard time buying into that. Not that it mattered right now. He could see the bikes lined up in front of the old motel, the motel the Renegades owned and used for their whores. He, Dice and Razr would roll up and go to war despite being outnumbered and outgunned.
That meant that the burden of seeing them walk out of the fight would rest on his shoulders. His brothers would fight, knew how to shoot and kill, but against superior numbers they were doomed. It would be his skills that saw them survive.
He had only moments to decide. Turn around and ride away or wade into battle. If he turned, he would be shunned, possibly killed. Death didn’t scare him, but being shunned was a bitter pill. Right or wrong, good or bad, this was the only family he had now.
So battle it would be.
They pulled up at the end of the row of bikes and cut their engines. Zeke pulled his handgun, checked the clip then nodded to his boys. “Go around the back. When you hear shots, take the back door. Clear every room, work your way toward me.”
They gave a nod and climbed off their bikes to head around the side of the one story motel. Zeke made for the lobby door.
The three Raptors at the front desk did not see him until it was too late. They were too busy beating the shit out of the desk clerk.
Zeke kicked one from behind, sending him stumbling forward. His two partners turned, drawing their weapons.
Zeke pulled twice on the trigger. Down they went. Clean shots to the center of their foreheads. The fallen Raptor was climbing to his feet when Zeke’s boot caught him under the chin and sent him careening backwards. Right into the knife the beaten clerk had snatched from the Raptor’s belt. A gurgling noise emerged from the man’s lips a split second before the blood spewed.
Zeke didn’t wait to see what happened next. He turned toward the hallway where the sound of moans and thuds came through opened doorways. Obviously the Raptors were filling their blood lust on the whores and Johns.
He heard shots from the end of the hall. A moment later, Dice emerged from a room at the end of the hall. A split second later, all hell broke loose. Raptors emerged from other rooms, blood on their gun wielding hands.
Zeke fired twice, taking down two and knowing they were dead. He didn’t miss. Never had. He never broke stride as he proceeded down the hall. The Raptors were pinned between him at this end and Dice and Razr at the other. It was a hail of gunfire and screams.
“On your six!”
A woman’s scream had him pivoting and firing at the same time. Unfortunately, her warning had alerted the Raptor emerging from a room behind Zeke. The man grabbed the woman and yanked her in front of him at the same moment Zeke turned.
Zeke’s hand jerked in reflex but not before the bullet slammed into the woman’s chest and blood erupted. She and the Raptor holding her went down, but the Raptor shoved her weight from him and fired.
Lucky for Zeke the Raptor was a lousy shot. Zeke was frozen. He’d just shot a woman. He didn’t kill innocents. No women or children died at his hands. It was his code. He’d never broken it. Until now.
The bullet that passed inches from his head snapped him back into focus. One shot and the Raptor on the floor was dead.
Were it not for a yell from behind him from Razr, he would have taken a bullet. He dove, rolled and fired twice, taking down two Raptors. Within moments, the gunfire ceased. The screaming and moaning did not. From every room on the hallway came the sounds of fear and pain.
Zeke ignored all of that and raced to the woman he’d shot. She was on her back, her eyes wide, and her mouth working to make a sound.
He knelt down beside her, placing his hands, one atop the other over the gaping wound in her chest. The bullet had caught her in the upper right of her chest, above the breast but under the collarbone. By the blood frothing from her lips, it had punctured a lung. He knew she would die unless he did something fast, so he did the only thing he could think to do. He shoved his middle finger into the hole.
Her eyes rolled back in her head, and her body went rigid. For a moment, he thought she was going to die. Then her eyes focused and moved to his face. Where before there was pain and fear, now something else shown in their depths. She seemed surprised, or shocked. He didn’t understand it, nor did he have time to contemplate. Keeping one hand clamped down on her wound, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed.
“We need an ambulance now. No cops.”
That was a tall order, but if anyone could make it happen it was Eli. Dice ran up behind him, and Zeke looked up at him. “You know her?”
“She’s not one of ours.” Dice replied.
“Then who is she?”
Dice looked at the suitcase in the doorway and the shoulder bag on the floor nearby and scooped up the bag. “Roxy Quinn. Atlanta.”
“Shit.” Zeke looked down at the woman who had lapsed into unconsciousness. An innocent. He’d broken the code. He’d shot an innocent.
He shook off as much of the self-loathing as possible and looked up at Dice. “Listen to me. You and Razr each find a girl. Tell the cops you were with them when the Raptors stormed the place. Make sure the girls back you up. You acted in self-defense. If they back you, you may get hauled in but it won’t stick. Tell the guy who runs the desk to make sure he tells the cops the same story.”
“He’s one of us. A prospect. He’ll back us up.”
Just then the sound of a siren sounded. “What about you?” Dice asked.
“I’m going to the hospital with her.”
“So you can make sure she tells the cops what we want her to? You could just let her die and there won’t be a problem.”
Zeke just turned away and moved his gaze to the woman. He couldn’t do that.
She was a beautiful woman. Dark hair, high cheekbones and full lips. She was probably around five foot ten, and endowed with the kind of body that women hated and men loved. Full breasted and substantial hips, small waist and a well-developed musculature. Obviously a woman who worked out. She looked strong. He’d be willing to bet that she was sexy as sin when not lying bloody on a floor.
But that look in her eyes. What the hell did it mean? That was something he needed to know.
And why had she shouted “on your six?” He needed to know the answer to those questions. At the moment, it was the most important thing in his life.
Why?
He didn’t have a clue.
Chapter Three
Pain. That was her first awareness, followed closely by confusion. Where was she and why was she in so much pain?
Before she could ponder those questions it hit her. The feeling! Where was it?
That caused her more fear and concern than the pain and confusion over where she was. Her companion. Where was it? Without it, she wasn’t real or whole or herself.
Her eyes flew open. A hospital? Yes, it had to be with all of the IV bags and monitors beside the bed she lay on. She was in a hospital. But why?
A jolt nearly lifted her off the bed as it came to her. She’d been shot. In the motel. She’d heard the commotion and stepped into the hallway, intent on getting out of there. That’s when she saw him. A man walking down the hall, gun in hand, his back to her. He was wearing a vest with a club patch. What was it? She couldn’t remember. There was another man, one coming out of the room across the hall from her, raising his gun at the first man’s back.
She’d screamed a warning. The man across from her grabbed her and then…She closed her eyes, trying to will the memory to the surface. The man with his back to her turned.
Again her eyes opened, this time with shock. He’d shot her. Then sat with her. She had seen his face, looked into his eyes. And fallen into darkness.
How had she gotten here? She turn
ed her head to one side and once more shock ripped through her. He was there. Sitting in a chair beside the bed.
“You’re awake.” His voice was deep and low. He stood and leaned over her. “Are you in pain? Should I call a nurse?”
She couldn’t focus on his words. All she could do was look at him. Her heartbeat accelerated until she thought sure her heart would burst from her chest. She felt sweat gather on her upper lip and forehead. Something swelled inside her, something that had her wishing she could throw herself at him, wrap her arms around him and hold him fast.
What the hell was happening to her? She’d never seen him before yet she felt she should know him. He was a tall man. Well over six feet she’d guess, with features that made her think of a warrior of old, all angles and hollows, with a strong nose, and thick dark brows now drawn together over the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.
“Are you okay?” He put his hand on her forearm, and she jerked at the touch. It seared her, and not just her skin. Something blazed in her mind, something just out of reach but vital.
“Who are you?” She managed to croak. Her mouth felt dry and sticky, her lips cracked.
“The man who shot you.”
Roxy’s mind was in a whirl. There was too much coming at her. She couldn’t think, couldn’t make sense of what was going on inside herself. She opened her mouth to tell him to go away, to call a doctor. Her heart was beating so fast it hurt.
But before she could utter the first word, the world went black.
Zeke heard the fast beep of the monitor and the alarm that sounded a split second after her eyes rolled back. She was going into cardiac arrest. He heard the sound of running footsteps but was already doing CPR by the time the crash team raced into the room. He stepped back and let them do their thing.
Once, twice they shocked her. Nothing. The doctor injected something straight into her chest. No response. Once more they put the paddles to her. Still nothing. The doctor checked his watch. “Call it. Time 3—“
The beep of a monitor cut his words short. “We’ve got a rhythm!” A nurse exclaimed.
For several minutes they worked, monitoring her vitals, administering drugs to the IV’s attached to her arms. Finally, the team left. Zeke stepped up beside the bed, looking down at the woman.
Shit on a stick. Obviously her condition was a lot worse than he’d been told. She’d survived surgery but had to be placed in a medical coma for three days. It took more than 48 hours for her to come out of it once they discontinued the drugs. Far longer than they’d anticipated. There was concern that she would not wake, that something had gone wrong.
A specialist had shown up to take over her case.
For an entire day, they ran one test after another, wheeling her from the room every few hours for another scan. It had them puzzled. There was unquestionably brain activity. In fact, there was too much. It was like someone who was conscious, in a life or death fight, areas of the brain that control the flight or fight reactions were lit like the fourth of July, as were the areas that were associated with dreaming.
It made no sense. No one knew what the hell was going on with her.
Least of all him. But he waited. He’d barely left the hospital except to go home to shower and change. He would be there when she woke, to claim responsibility for what he’d done.
The club thought he was doing it to protect his ass. The truth was, he didn’t know why he was doing it. All he knew was that when she’d been lying on that floor in the hallway of the motel, bleeding, she’d looked up at him, and something had happened.
Something tore in his mind. He’d felt it. It was a little like the feeling when you’ve pushed your body too hard and you feel a muscle tear. That’s the only thing he could equate with the sensation. Something ripped and when it did, a feeling claimed control of him.
Even now he couldn’t describe the feeling or explain it. It still didn’t make sense. It was like he’d suddenly been thrust into someone else’s head, someone who loved the woman and had been searching for her a long time. Someone who would lay down his life before letting her die.
Zeke shook his head and flopped down in the chair. It was crazy. He’d never laid eyes on the woman until that day in the hotel. He knew he didn’t love her. Hell, he didn’t even know her. Yet he couldn’t leave her side.
Try as he might, he couldn’t make sense of it. Maybe he was just losing his fucking mind.
He slouched lower in the chair and closed his eyes. Within minutes, he was asleep. And that’s when the first dream came.
He sat with his back against an old oak. Wild grass with the tender blades of spring cushioned the ground beneath him. Above him, the ancient branches formed a canopy. Light filtered through the leaves to cast speckled patterns on the ground.
Before him the land sloped gently to the bank of a lake. The breeze he felt whisper against his skin was too gentle to disturb the pristine surface of the water. It reflected the scattered clouds of the sky and the incredible gold and reds of the sunset.
She sat between his legs, leaning back against him. His arms circled her and hers lay atop, hugging his tighter around her.
He tilted his head to one side and leaned slightly to place a kiss on the side of her face. Her skin was pale and covered in a sheen of sweat. Blood stained the front of her blouse, a crimson blossom that covered her entire chest. She would not survive the gunshot. Even the thought of that caused more agony that any injury or wound he’d ever received. He loved her more in this moment than ever before.
“It’s time.” Her voice was weak, almost too soft to be heard.
“I am not ready.”
Her hands tightened on his arms. “I will find you.”
“Will you?”
“Yes. Always.”
“How can you be so sure?”
She sighed and relaxed back against him. “How can you not?”
He tightened his hold on her. He couldn’t let go, didn’t know how he could ever let go. She was his life, what made him whole. It was not supposed to happen this way. He was supposed to be the first to go. She was stronger, she had more faith. She could survive. He could not.
But he could not let her see his weakness. She had depended upon him for strength as he had her. He could not fail her now. And so he sat, listening to her breathe, for the last time.
“I love you,” her voice was barely a whisper. “I always will.”
“As will I,” he promised. And then he felt her go. There was no pain or fear, just a release. One final breathe and she was gone.
His chest clenched in pain, and his mind went blank with grief. When reason returned it was night. “Please be right,” he whispered as he stood and gathered her into his arms. “Find me.”
There was, of course, no answer, not even a whisper on the wind.
Zeke came to with a jerk, for a moment confused where he was. The hospital. Of course. He raised his hands to his face and was surprised to touch wetness. Had he been crying?
He got up and paced to the window. That was one strange dream. So real. So sad. He didn’t want to remember it, but couldn’t help but wonder what had prompted it.
“Hello?” A soft, husky voice came from behind him.
He whirled around to find the woman on the bed watching him. “You’re awake.”
“So it would seem. You’re him, aren’t you? The one who shot me?”
“Yes.”
She nodded but didn’t say anymore. She just watched him, her eyes focused and clear. He walked over to stand beside the bed. “I’m sorry.”
“It was an accident.”
Zeke had not expected that. She said it in such a matter of fact manner, like she’d just stated the time of the day or day of the week.
“It was,” he agreed.
“I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
He wasn’t sure what else to say. And it was getting harder to think the way she was watching him. It made him unco
mfortable on more than one level. Her gaze was too focused, too probing. He almost felt as if she were looking inside his head.
And then there was the fact that she was beautiful. What the hell kind of man was he to be turned on by a woman who’d damn near died thanks to him?
“Well … I guess I should go.” Discomfort made him eager to escape the room.
She followed him with her eyes as he made his way to the door. He stopped at the threshold. “I think the police might want to question you now that you’re awake.”
“It was an accident. There’s no need for you to worry Mister…?”
“Justice. Ezekiel Justice –Zeke.”
“Zeke.”
Shit on a stick. He’d never heard his name spoken like that. It was like a prayer falling from her lips, a wish that had found vocal expression. It shook him to his core. So much that he could not respond. All he could do was flee.
Zeke didn’t stop until he reached his bike in the parking lot. What the hell was going on with him? He didn’t have time to ponder it. His cell phone rang. It was Eli. Reese wanted everyone to meet at the club, ASAP.
Chances were the meeting would be a call to war. No way was Reese going to let a rival move in on their territory, not even if they had sent a clear message by killing everyone at the motel. No, Reese would want more blood than that.
Zeke climbed on his bike. Maybe it had been a mistake to leave the military after all.
Chapter Four
Roxy sat down in the chair beside the bed to put on her boots. Even that small bit of exertion made her wince. Obviously it was going to take a while before she was fully back to normal. The doctor had signed her release an hour ago. After two long weeks she was at last free to leave.
So why was she stalling? She could have been dressed and gone in fifteen minutes. She snorted in disgust. As ashamed as she was to admit it, she had dawdled in hopes that Zeke would show up. She didn’t know why she should expect that. He had not been back since the day he told her his name. Chances were, he’d already forgotten about her.