Sal (The Ride Series)

by Megan O'Brien

  The other man grinned and I looked at him closely for the first time before gasping in surprise. “You’re Allen Parker! You were at one of Sal’s parties,” I recalled with confusion.

  I remembered the night well. Parker, as everyone seemed to call him, had been hitting on Scarlet. She’d later told me Parker and Cole were old enemies. Parker had been a prospect once, before he’d betrayed the Knights.

  Parker grinned at me with a satisfied gleam in his eye. “I am,” he admitted. “I’m also the one who loaned your ma’s old man forty Gs with interest,” he added, pulling a large knife out from his back pocket and tossing it back and forth between his palms. Jeb groaned in frustration at being useless on the ground.

  “What do you want with me?” I demanded, the blood whirring in my ears as I eyed his blade.

  “You got forty Gs, gorgeous?” he asked with a satisfied smirk. He knew I didn’t.

  I shook my head, swallowing the giant lump in my throat. I’d never felt fear like this, and I’d been in some pretty fucked up situations.

  “I figured. Really, it was never about the money,” he said. “That pathetic bastard, Stu, approached me. Somehow your name came up, and I saw an opportunity to fuck with Sal’s girl,” he said as he cocked his head to the side, drawing closer still. “Really, I should thank you. I’m having so much fuckin’ fun,” he added, nearly gleeful.

  Somehow I didn’t think his version of thank you was the same as mine.

  “I think I’ll mark you, what do you say to my initials on your forearm?” he asked as he grinned, pulling my arm in his steel grip to jerk my body toward his. “That’ll really piss him off.”

  I screamed the loudest, earsplitting scream I could muster, desperately trying to pull away from his grasp.

  “No? How about your belly? Then Armstrong can look at my name every time he wants to fuck you.” He pulled my arm to his lips, giving me a loud, wet kiss.

  I shuddered and wanted to vomit.

  “Parker, man, we’ve already been in here too long,” creep number two noted nervously, holding a now struggling Connie and eyeing the door with unease.

  Parker nodded and turned back to me.

  “What do you want?” I repeated, trying to distract him from harming me. His knife looked sharp and I was scared shitless.

  “Respect and fear,” he replied as though it were obvious. “But, mostly fear.”

  “You’re signing your death warrant if you hurt me,” I hissed, yanking hard in his grasp.

  “Let them try,” he scoffed before turning me forcefully so my back was to his front.

  I thrashed for all I was worth; putting everything I had into fighting him. Connie was screaming her head off as I bit and clawed at him, determined to fend him off. Then I felt the blade dig into the flesh of my forearm with a searing pain. Two more deep slashes followed as I continued to scream, the sound so pained it was foreign in my ears.

  “No time for the initials unfortunately,” he noted regretfully, letting me go as I gripped my arm, blood seeping through my fingers. “You tell your men,” he directed, looking at both Connie and me, “they should have taken me seriously when they had the chance. Now they’ve got to contend with me, and I’m not fucking around. You’re next,” he said, pointing his blade at Connie. “I waited for a reason with this one,” he said while pointing at me, “but this is too much fucking fun. I don’t need one anymore.” He tilted his chin at his partner and they threw the door open, blazing through it, and shoving the women who waited on the other side.

  I looked at Connie, feeling dazed as women started shrieking and hollering. She looked okay, still standing at least. I swung my gaze to Jeb next who was now sitting in a puddle of blood. He’d somehow managed to pull his phone out and was talking to someone in a shallow tone. I took this all in as though it were a dream. All the sounds happening around me seemed to come through a tunnel, and I distantly realized I was losing a good amount of blood.

  “Kat,” Connie said urgently, coming out of her haze to grip my shoulders. “Here, sit down, you’re okay,” she said, her voice shaking.

  Then I heard Scarlet and Ettie screaming my name.

  “I’m okay,” I tried to reassure them even though I felt like anything but. I slid down the wall to sit on the ground and stared dazedly at the scene unfolding in front of me. Women in cocktail dresses ran around in chaos as a few men in suits filled the small space. Ryker came barreling in, hauling Jeb up and over his shoulder in seconds.

  Scarlet took my face in her hands, eyeing me intently. “This is nothing. You’ve got this,” she said, her calm tone juxtaposing the fear in her eyes.

  She was right. In the scheme of things, what I’d been through, this was nothing. A little blood, a little pain. I could handle this.

  I nodded resolutely and squeezed my eyes shut against the pain, determined not to be a baby about it. I’d take a blade from a stranger rather than a backhand from my mother any day.

  Ry was suddenly back, dipping low to lift me in his arms.

  “Sal?” I murmured as he carried me out, with my friends trailing behind. I needed Sal.

  “Already talked to him, he’s right behind us, babe,” he answered, carrying me out through the club to the SUV the guys had brought us in.

  “Oh, god, Jeb,” I said hoarsely as Ry placed me beside the bleeding prospect in the backseat. The girls all piled in alongside and in front as quickly as they could, and we sped off.

  “Jeb,” I said again when he’d closed his eyes and had stopped responding. I grabbed his cold hand in mine and squeezed.

  I leaned back on the headrest and shut my eyes, still holding tight to Jeb’s hand.

  I could hear Ryker talking harshly to someone on the phone and Connie quietly crying, but I was starting to nod off.

  The SUV came to a screeching halt and I was vaguely aware of being placed on a stretcher, of being rushed through bright lights and smooth corridors of the hospital.

  I must have passed out because the next thing I heard was Sal’s voice. “Baby,” his voice came, sounding tortured and hoarse in my ear.

  I opened my eyes, squinting through the bright light up at Sal’s gorgeous face. His face peered down into mine, his expression pained.

  I managed a weak smile. “I’m okay,” I assured him. Whether that were true or not I wasn’t entirely sure, but I’d say just about anything to get that expression off his face.

  His hand moved to my forehead, smoothly moving my hair from my face. “Yeah, you are,” he agreed forcefully. “They’ve already stopped the bleeding. A couple of stitches and you’ll be good as new.”

  “And Jeb?” I asked quietly.

  Sal’s expression darkened. “In emergency surgery. It doesn’t look good,” he admitted.

  “Oh, no,” I croaked, tears blurring my vision.

  The nurse came in then, checking my vitals and changing the bloody bandage on my arm.

  “When can she go home?” Sal demanded.

  The nurse looked up at him, her eyes fearful. Sometimes I forgot how scary Sal could be. He had the ability to scare the crap out of people, especially in situations like this.

  “Babe,” I said quietly, putting a hand on his forearm and squeezing gently in a silent bid for calm.

  He nodded and blew out a harsh breath. I saw the war waging in his eyes, the need to go out and maim Parker and everyone involved. But, he seemed to get a handle on himself, if only a loose one, and sat in the chair by my bedside.

  The nurse gave me a grateful look before regarding Sal. “The doctor will want to monitor for infection and make sure the blood loss stops entirely. I can’t say yet, but hopefully by mid-morning at the latest.”

  I groaned at the prospect of having to stay. I wanted to get the hell out of there, take a shower, and crawl into bed with Sal. That is, if he didn’t take off to bestow his wrath on all those involved in hurting me. I’d say there was a fifty-fifty shot of that happening.

  “You’re clotting really w
ell and your vitals have already improved since you came in, so that’s good news,” she offered with a sympathetic smile.

  “Thanks,” I murmured, suddenly feeling like I could sleep for a week.

  “Try to get some rest,” she said in parting, pushing the curtain out of the way and leaving the room.

  The hospital room felt so large and sterile, the incessant beeping grating my frazzled nerves. I glanced toward the curtain, which had an empty bed that I hoped stayed that way. The last thing I needed was to share this room tonight.

  I turned my head toward Sal, surprised to see him taking off his cut and appearing to get comfortable in his chair. “You’re staying?” I asked, unable to hide the hope in my voice.

  His eyes narrowed. “Of course I’m staying, Jesus,” he bit out, clearly irritated at my assumption.

  Sal’s bedside manner had never been stellar.

  I shrugged defensively. “I figured you’d be on a tear.”

  He leaned closer, his forearms resting on the bed as he looked intently into my eyes. “Tonight’s actions will not go unpunished or unanswered, I can promise you that,” he said vehemently. “I admit it’s not easy to sit here and not want to draw blood as yours has been drawn,” he continued, his eyes sparkling with intensity. “But, if you think I’m letting you out of my sight for one fuckin’ second then you’re insane.”

  I felt a warm, slow smile spread over my face. His delivery might have been harsh, but his words spoke volumes.

  I bit my lip, hesitant to push him further but feeling greedy for affection. “Do you think you can fit up here with me?” I asked, indicating my small hospital bed.

  His expression softened a degree and swept over my face. “Yeah, I think I can manage as long as I won’t hurt you.”

  “It’s just my right arm. As long as you lay on my left side it’ll be fine,” I assured him, my heart soaring as he bent down to unlace his boots. He climbed as gingerly into the bed as his big body allowed and carefully pulled me against him.

  “You know the cops will come; they’ll want a statement,” I said quietly after he’d gotten situated. I snuggled into his warm, firm chest and breathed him in.

  “Yeah,” he replied, his deep voice vibrating through his body. His fingers stroked idly through my hair, and I marveled at my fierce man’s capacity for tenderness.

  “What do you want to do?” I asked. Situations like this one were tricky. I’d been in enough scrapes with the Knights to know the police were not a part of the way justice was delivered in their world. If the cops knew about Parker and something happened to him, well that was a hell of a lot of heat on the club that they didn’t need.

  “I need to talk to Cole, but if names are named then any retribution would be a lot tougher for us. I want my own justice with Parker, and it doesn’t include a comfortable cell and cable TV.”

  I swallowed hard but nodded. I didn’t ask for more detail. Sal and I had an understanding of sorts about his life with the Knights. I knew in general they stayed on the right side of the law. They owned several businesses and kept out of trouble for the most part. But I also knew they had their own laws, their own sense of justice. And if someone hurt or threatened one of their own, they didn’t hesitate. Part of being with Sal meant I had to understand that. I couldn’t ask questions I didn’t truly want the answers to.

  “You okay with that?” he asked gruffly.

  I knew what he was asking me, to lie to the police in order to allow him to handle this his way. “Yeah,” I murmured, feeling his lips brush against my temple.

  My fingers traced over the tattoos that covered his right arm, appreciating the black and grays contrasting with the vibrant colors.

  “Your arm is like a work of art,” I whispered, my voice sounding scratchy as I traced the eyes of the day of the dead emblem on his inner forearm.

  “Hmm,” his voice rumbled.

  “Why this one?” I asked, tracing the haunting yet beautiful image.

  He shrugged. “I always thought the idea that death is a part of life is sort of beautiful,” he admitted, and I could tell he was almost bashful about his explanation. “I felt in a way when I left home it was a death of sorts, but a good one.”

  I nodded. That made a hell of a lot of sense to me.

  My fingers traced under his shirt and up to his chest, outlining the Knight insignia that I knew blazed across his pecs. His skin felt so warm and smooth, it soothed me to touch him.

  “Sleep, Birdie. I’m here,” he assured me, squeezing me gently.

  I nodded and allowed my heavy lids to shut.

  I was first aware of the damn beeping when I began to stir. Hospitals were not easy places to rest in, that was for sure. I was alone in bed and my eyes opened to search the room for Sal.

  “Hey, girl,” Hank’s voice came from the doorway, surprising me.

  “Hey,” I rasped, trying to sit up. “Where’s Sal?”

  “Meetin’ with Cole and Cal downstairs, he’ll be back soon as he can. Axel, Tag, and I are here,” he told me, his huge arms crossing over his chest. Hank was a bear of a man, and I always found it slightly amusing that the women who piqued his interest were always so petite.

  “Is Connie okay? Have you talked to Wes?” I asked. They were supposed to get married in a few days.

  “Just shaken up,” he replied, stepping farther into the room. “Mind if I sit?” he asked, indicating the chair beside my bed.

  I shook my head.

  Of all the guys, Hank was probably the warmest and the most approachable. He was like a big teddy bear most of the time. But, this morning I saw none of that softness in him. He looked beyond pissed. “We’re all sorry for what happened to you, Kat. There’ll be hell to pay. You know that, right?” he demanded.

  “Yeah, I know,” I answered quietly. Really, there wasn’t anything else I could say. I couldn’t stop them even if I tried. It was as good as done the minute Parker had made a move against me and, in doing so, against the entire club.

  “What’s the latest on Jeb?” I asked.

  “He came through the night,” Hank answered, providing unexpected good news. “Punctured lung but they were able to stop the bleeding and get him stable.”

  “That’s great news.” I breathed a sigh of relief. “Is someone with him?”

  Hank nodded. “His girl.”

  I’d never met his girlfriend; didn’t know he had one because I didn’t know Jeb all that well, but I was glad he wasn’t alone.

  “Can I get you anything?” he asked, interrupted by the swishing of the curtain as the doctor stepped into view.

  “How are you feeling this morning, Miss Jennings?” he asked kindly, looking at me briefly before studying my chart.

  “Okay,” I replied. And I did feel okay. My arm was sore as hell, but I wasn’t hurt anywhere else and wanted to get the hell out of there.

  “Let’s take some vitals and then I’m going to check your wounds, okay?” he asked.

  Behind the doctor stepped in two men dressed in suits. Detectives, shit. I hadn’t talked to Sal yet, and I wasn’t sure how he wanted me to play this. I glanced briefly over at Hank who was suddenly typing furiously on his phone.

  “Miss Jennings?” The blond-haired detective spoke, coming into the room. “I’m Detective Rawlings. This is Detective Marx,” he introduced the attractive black detective standing next to him. “We wanted to talk to you about what happened last night.”

  “Can this wait?” I replied, hoping to stall for time. “I’m still a bit shook up, I’d rather not go into the details just yet,” I told them, which wasn’t a lie.

  “Unfortunately, no. We’d like to get your information as quickly as possible. The man with you, Mr. Harris, almost died. This was attempted murder and aggravated assault, in a public place no less. We want to get to the bottom of this and we want to do that today,” Detective Marx returned forcefully.

  Clearly, these guys weren’t fooling around.

  “I’ll come back sho
rtly,” the doctor said, leaving the room. I sighed regretfully at his departure. I’d rather have him push and prod my open wounds than deal with the detectives.

  “What’s going on?” Sal demanded, appearing behind the detectives. He was wearing the same clothes as last night and sporting new smudges under his eyes from lack of sleep. He looked exhausted and seriously pissed, but he immediately stepped to my bedside, a standing sentry between me and the law.

  “We’re here to get a statement and we’re not leaving until we do,” Rawlings returned as his gaze narrowed on Sal and then on Hank. No doubt he’d already labeled them as anything but law abiding.

  I looked up at Sal, hoping like hell he would understand the subtle question in my eyes. He looked down at me and gave me the slightest of nods.

  Apparently it was time for my performance. I was slightly cranky about not having any coffee first, but I’d just have to do without.

  Unfortunately, I had way more practice with lying than I would have liked. I knew in order to be believable, I had to stick as closely to the truth as possible. Growing up, I lied to my parents on a daily basis. I had gotten pretty damn good at it, especially because the consequences were less than pleasant if they didn’t believe me. I’d get hit, or worse.

  So, I told the story as it had unraveled. Except in this version, I’d never seen either man before and had no idea why they’d targeted us. When asked for descriptions, I altered them slightly. I could tell the detectives were skeptical at best as they took notes, their gazes sweeping suspiciously to Sal and Hank every now and then. I refused to be questioned alone when they asked, not wanting to draw this out any further.

  “You think of anything else, you give us a call,” Marx instructed while handing me a card.

  “Will do,” I agreed.

  “We’ll be in touch,” Rawlings added gruffly, and I could tell he was pissed off. He knew I wasn’t telling them everything, but he didn’t have any proof.

  Sal stood with his feet planted apart and his arms crossed over his chest as he watched them go. When the door clicked shut behind them, I took a deep breath and relaxed slightly.