“Okay, let’s move,” Rock says with urgency. We fan out and start searching. The building is huge, but it’s mostly open space, so there aren’t that many places to hide a shipment of guns, if they’re here. I reflexively reach back for my Sig Sauer, to make sure it’s securely tucked into my waistband, and move toward the back of the building where a series of corridors look like they might lead to something.
I don’t find anything other than some old, dust-covered equipment and a bunch of broken glass. If the crates are in this building, they definitely aren’t here. I’m starting to wonder if we’ve made a mistake somehow. Why the fuck would the Spiders store their shit in such a stupid, unsecured place?
“Here!” cries a voice from the other side of the building. I break into a jog and find a cluster of men standing in front of the rusted door of a walk-in refrigeration unit. There’s a heavy steel lock on the handle.
Without ceremony, Rock raises his .357 Magnum and shoots the lock off from the side. Angel reaches over and flings open the door.
A blast of stench barrels toward us, and a couple of the men step back and swear in disgust.
But it turns out, we’ve hit the jackpot. The crates are there, all right. Eight cases of pistols, ARs, and ammunition.
But that’s not all. There’s boxes and boxes of shit, stacked up high against the walls. Tank reaches over and pulls off a loose lid on one of them, then peers inside.
“Drugs,” he say. “Heroin, most likely.”
“Fuck,” Angel mutters. “It’s gonna be hard to leave this shit. We could make bank taking it with us.”
“Yeah,” Brick nods with a gleam in his eye. “But we can make sure they don’t make shit off it, anyway.”
Now that we’ve found what we come for, we move quickly. Thorn pulls our van up next to the walk-in, and Beast pulls the second one in behind him. We divide the ammo and guns between each vehicle. When we’re finished, Angel, Rock, and the others pile into theirs. “Go back by the alternate route,” Rock orders us.
The first van drives toward the exit, and I look back into the refrigeration unit to see Thorn setting the anfo bomb Tweak sent with us. It’s a mixture of ammonium nitrate and fuel oil. Tweak’s rigged a remote detonator for the burner phone Thorn’s carrying with him. The blast should be more than enough to destroy all the inventory in the refrigeration unit.
“Okay,” he says urgently, getting to his feet. “Let’s go.” He climbs into the van’s driver seat, and I throw closed the back doors. Thorn starts driving toward the exit, and the rest of us jog alongside the van to open the doors.
Just then Brick lets out a shout. “We got company!”
“Let’s get moving!” I yell to the others. “Get in the truck!” The rolling door’s still open, the van halfway outside, when the gunfire starts. It seems to be coming from all directions at once, and it’s impossible to do anything but crouch low and try to get myself into the van before I try to start firing back.
Things go to shit fast. As far as I can tell, Spiders are firing at us from the brush, and our guys are firing at the Spiders. All I know is we have to get out now. My weapon’s drawn, and I’m racing toward the truck when I hear Brick yell, “Watch out, Hawk!”
Before I have time to react there’s a loud crack that somehow distinguishes itself from all the other sounds of gunfire — detaches itself in my mind like it’s meant for me. Then I feel a strange tap on the right side of my back, like someone’s hit me with a small rock. It makes no sense, and I instinctively start to reach back to figure out what it was, then realize how absurd that is and keep running. As I get closer to the van, a burning, aggravating sensation starts there, and starts to radiate outward.
Fuck. I’m shot.
I can hear the Spiders continue to shoot at us as Brick pulls me into the van and manages to slam the door behind me. I reach back now, and feel my back. It’s wet.
“Shit, Hawk,” Brick rasps. “That’s gonna leave a mark.”
“Fuck. Can Smiley take care of this?” I groan.
He shakes his head. “I don’t think so, brother. This is gonna need surgery.”
Goddamnit. That means the hospital. Which means I’m gonna have to make up some story about how this happened. Assuming we get there in time and I survive it, that is. I know without even asking we can’t go anywhere else but Tanner Springs General. Any other hospital and we’d have the cops on our back asking questions.
Thorn jams the van into gear and whips it around so fast for second I think we’re going to flip over on our side. The pain’s starting to increase now, and through the fog of it I hear Tank ask me if I’m okay. I open my mouth to say yes when a fucking huge boom cuts me off, followed by another loud explosion. I turn with the others to see the smoke and shrapnel pouring out of the building from the anfo bomb Thorn just set off inside.
“Game on, motherfuckers,” he grins back at us, holding up his phone.
I grin and try to give him a thumbs up, but a knife of pain slices through me. I groan and collapse sideways on the hard floor, gritting my teeth and settling in for the duration as Brick does what he can to stop the bleeding.
21
Samantha
I’m walking down the street at Mary Jane’s maddeningly slow pace, waiting for her to do her business, when I get the call.
“Sam!” Jenna’s breathless voice comes over the phone. “I’m so glad I got you right away!”
“What? What is it? Has something happened?”
Jenna sounds frantic, and I can’t imagine what’s wrong, but it’s very clear something is.
“The club…” she begins, and then I hear her cover the phone and say something to someone on her end. When she comes back, I hear her take a deep breath and start again. “Something’s happened with the club. I don’t know all the details, but I do know they went on a run outside of their territory for some reason, and it went bad.” She pauses, and continues in a softer voice. “Hawk got shot.”
“Oh, my God!” I say, jerking so hard on the leash that Mary Jane lets out a yelp of surprise. “Jenna, where is he? Is he okay? What’s happening?” I start to feel weak and sort of dizzy. My heart starts to speed up in my chest, so fast it’s almost a tremor.
“He’s at the hospital here in Tanner Springs. They brought him here — the club did — about half an hour ago, from what Cas says.” Her voice is shaking, and it’s clear she’s doing her best to hold herself together. “I think they’re taking him into surgery now. But that’s all I know. We’re not family, so they’re not telling us much.”
Hawk’s hurt. The sentence is pounding in my brain like a throbbing headache. Hawk’s hurt. I feel so shaky that for a moment I think I might lose my balance and fall to the ground, but I manage to keep my legs under me.
“Okay, I…” I choke out, and try to think of what the other words are. Normally imperious Mary Jane is eyeing me curiously. “I’ll be there just as soon as I can,” I finally manage to say. Tears spring to my eyes, and I have to fight to swallow the loud sob that’s risen up in my throat. “Thanks for calling me, Jenna.”
“I thought…” she pauses, her voice stricken. “Well, I just thought maybe you’d want to know. I’ll be here waiting.”
I take the phone away from my face with a trembling hand and turn back toward home, almost stumbling a couple of times. For once, Mary Jane is not resisting me and trying to get me to follow her lead. Instead, she trots beside me docilely, and I silently thank her.
Back inside the main house, I unleash the dog and bring her in to Gram, who’s sitting at her dining room table with a stack of papers. When I tell her I’m going out and probably won’t be back for dinner, she looks at me sharply, as though she can hear in my voice that there’s something wrong. But if she does sense something’s upsetting me, she doesn’t say it, and I’m so relieved at not having to argue with her that I almost burst into tears right there.
By the time I’ve run across the lawn to the carriage house, I’m full-
on ugly crying: wracking sobs that I am going to have to get under control if I have any hope of driving. I race inside and grip the kitchen counter hard to steady myself. I’m still sobbing uncontrollably, and I squeeze my eyes shut tight and try to concentrate on slowing my breathing. Eventually, I manage to get to the point where I don’t think I’m going to hyperventilate. I go to the bathroom, splash cold water on my face until I start to feel a little calmer, and then go grab my keys and fly out the door to my car.
It’s not until I’m almost halfway to the hospital that it occurs to me to question how Jenna knew to call me.
I haven’t told her — or anyone — anything about Hawk and me. (Not that there is a “Hawk and me.” But even so…) All Jenna knows is that he came to fix Gram’s sink. Well, that and she saw Hawk and me talking together at the festival. But how she would put two and two together from only that is a mystery to me.
Right now, I can’t think about any of that, though. Right now, I just need to know Hawk isn’t dead. That he’s going to be okay. That —.
A fresh round of sobs wells up in my throat, tears stinging my eyes. Angrily, I brush them away and swallow over and over, afraid I’ll crash the car if I let myself start crying again. Five agonizing minutes later, I make it to the hospital, and almost run into the curb trying to park my car. I open the door and almost trip over my feet as I run toward the emergency entrance. Inside, I’ve stopped at the check-in desk and am breathlessly asking the older woman there how to get to Hawk when I hear Jenna’s voice behind me.
I turn and fall into her arms in tears.
“It’s okay,” Jenna says in a soothing voice as she starts to rub my back. “He’s in surgery now. We just have to wait. He’ll be okay, Sam, he’s strong as an ox. Nothing can take Hawk down.”
She puts her arm around me walks me to where the rest of the club is waiting. Cas is there, and he gives me a brief nod and a one-finger wave. Noah and Mariana aren’t there, and I’m guessing someone is babysitting them. I sit down next to Jenna in a row of chairs a few feet away from the men. I look down and notice that my hands are shaking.
“What happened?” I whisper.
“I’m not sure, exactly,” Jenna murmurs. “I told you about all I know. The men left this morning on a run. When they got back, I got a call from Cas telling me something had gone wrong and that they had to bring Hawk here.” She looks at me, worry creasing her brow even though she’s trying to hide it. “They said he was shot in the back.”
In the back… I imagine the bullet entering Hawk’s spine, severing it. Hawk in a wheelchair. Hawk paralyzed. Hawk…
“Sam,” Jenna says sharply, grabbing my hand. “Don’t. Don’t drive yourself crazy. You have to stay strong, okay? It does no good if you fall apart. Think good thoughts. Be strong.” She shifts in her chair and looks at me intently. “You may not believe in praying, but there’s no downside in putting positive thoughts, hopeful thoughts out into the universe.”
Please let Hawk be okay, I pray, staring at the floor. I don’t care what happens between us. Just please let him be okay. I close my eyes, and start to take deep breaths, repeating the mantra with every respiration. Inhale. Please let Hawk be okay. Exhale. Please let Hawk be okay. Inhale. Please let Hawk be okay. Exhale. Please let Hawk be okay.
I open my eyes, take another deep breath and let it out. For the first time, I look around and really notice my surroundings. The first thing I see is that a couple of the men, Cas included, are looking at me with unconcealed curiosity. Suddenly, I feel incredibly self-conscious. I have no place here. Not really. I’m not part of the club’s family. I’m not really part of Hawk’s life. Maybe it’s ridiculous that I’m here. Maybe Hawk will wonder what I’m doing here when he gets out of surgery, and be pissed off that I’m acting like I’m his girlfriend or something.
“I — maybe I should go,” I say awkwardly. I start to stand up, but Jenna catches my arm and pulls me back down.
“I think he’ll want to see you, Sam,” Jenna says softly. When I look over at her, she’s staring at me with an expression I can’t quite read.
“Look,” she starts, “I don’t know what’s going on with the two of you… but clearly, there’s something going on. Isn’t there?”
I nod miserably.
“Well, then,” she continues, her voice soothing, “Just stay here. And wait with the rest of us. And when Hawk’s able to see people,” — she carefully avoids saying if, I notice — “then go in and see him.” She gives me a kind smile. “I bet he’ll be pretty happy you’re here.”
Jenna suggests that we go get something to drink, and leads me toward the hospital cafeteria. I get a cup of absolutely terrible coffee and load it down with cream and sugar. We sit down at one of the tables, and I hold the warm styrofoam cup in my hand like it’s precious, but for some reason I can’t bring myself to drink it.
“I think whatever happened today is why Cas and Hawk and the others have seemed so tense lately,” Jenna tells me. She frowns in frustration. “Sometimes I really wish they’d tell us what the hell is going on, instead of trying to keep us safe all the time.”
I think back to how preoccupied and gruff Hawk was the last time I saw him. And how, when he came to the carriage house, ostensibly to take me out for a ride, he pulled me inside and fucked me like it was our last day on earth.
It was only yesterday.
I shiver at the memory of his touch. I’d give anything to relive all of that again.
Maybe he did think it was his last day on earth, I realize suddenly.
I don’t know how to feel about that.
“Can I ask you a question?” I ask Jenna after we’ve sat for a few moments in silence.
“Sure,” she says. When I look up at her, it seems like she already knows what I’m going to ask.
“How did you know? To… call me?” It’s all I can manage to say.
She laughs softly through her nose. “Well, I guess I didn’t know for sure,” she concedes. “But it seemed pretty obvious to me at the festival that there was something going on between the two of you.” She shrugs. “I’ve honestly never seen Hawk act around any woman the way he acts around you.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, genuinely confused. “All he did at the festival was grunt and brood, mostly.”
“Oh, that’s not true at all, Sam,” Jenna laughs. “Besides. It’s more just something in his eyes, I guess. And how he stands when he’s close to you. It’s like he’s just totally aware of your presence, even if he’s not talking to you directly. Besides,” she continues, taking a sip of her black coffee and grimacing, “Hawk’s not exactly the kind of guy to just volunteer to go fix some random person’s sink for no reason. Especially not Phyllis Jennings.”
“Huh.” I guess it had never occurred to me that Hawk offered to fix Gram’s sink out of anything other than — I don’t know, pity, I guess. The thought that he might have done to spend time with me makes me feel giddy, and then I have to talk myself down because I don’t want to get my hopes up if it’s not true.
God, I am so messed up.
Jenna suggests we get back to the waiting room, so we stand up and take our disgusting coffees with us back down the long corridor toward the emergency entrance. When we get there, nothing has changed, and the men seem to have settled in for the long haul. I sit down in the chair I vacated a while ago and prepare to do the same. Jenna touches me softly on the shoulder and then goes over to talk to Cas.
I force myself not to look at the large clock on the wall, because seeing how slowly time is passing is threatening to drive me crazy. Instead, I sit and focus on a tuft of the beige hospital carpet in front of me that’s been pulled loose. I stare at it like it’s the only thing anchoring me to the earth. My breathing goes in, and out, and in and out. I start to feel cold, goosebumps rising on my arms. But I don’t move. I can’t move.
A doctor comes out, a slight, dark-complected man in green scrubs. He approaches the MC and Rock stands, then the othe
rs do as well. I practically bolt out of my seat and walk quickly toward them, standing just outside of the cluster of men.
“… fortunate that no vital organs were penetrated,” he’s saying. “The bullet passed through the muscles surrounding the abdomen, but did not enter the abdominal cavity. He’s a very lucky man.”
My legs grow weak under me, and for a second I feel faint with relief.
“How long until he’s up and around doc?” Angel asks.
“Different people heal differently,” the doctor replies. “That said, Mr. McCullough seems like a relatively healthy man, and he could be up and around within a matter of a couple of weeks.”
“Can we see him?” Jenna breaks in.
“Mr. McCullough is still in recovery,” he smiles. “Eventually they’ll admit him to a room, and someone will come tell you where he is. When he is awake, we’ll evaluate his condition, and it’s possible that he could accept a visitor or two tonight. No guarantees, though, I’m afraid.”
The doctor gives us a slight nod and disappears back through the emergency room doors. Jenna comes over to me and gives me a tight hug. “He’s going to be okay, Sam,” she murmurs.
I hug her back, and let out a shaky breath I didn’t even know I’d been holding.
Then I go find a private bathroom, and burst into tears.
We wait a while longer. How long, I don’t know. I pick up some magazines and flip blindly through them. I stare at my phone screen and try to play a game. I can’t concentrate on anything.
Someone orders pizza. Jenna brings me a piece, but it tastes like greasy cardboard to me, so I throw it away.
HAWK (Lords of Carnage MC) Page 11