But, as more of their brothers arrived for the evening and the inevitable flocking of girls began, they were all perfectly content to stay where they were and leave Sam to his good deed for the day. As Johnny was quick to point out, with the blonde sergeant gone, the rest of them stood a better chance anyway.
“Speak for yersel’!” Colton could hear Shay protest loudly, to cackles of raucous laughter, even as the phone diverted his attention and one glance at the screen showed the caller.
“What’s up?” the biker answered, getting straight to the point even with a friend.
“Colt, man,” Sketch’s voice sounded tense. “Just got a call from Callie’s reporter friend, Lana, all cryin’ and shit. She’s with Callie in the back of a fucking ambulance and--”
“What the hell’s happened?” Colton demanded, his own tone enough to send a hush around those nearest. He didn’t even really register them stop talking though, or feel their eyes shift curiously to where he’d sat up straighter in his chair.
“No clue. Her line keeps cutting out. All I know is they’re headed to the hospital and it ... Shit, it sounds real bad, bro.”
He didn’t even need to think about a response. “I’m on my way.”
“Everythin’ okay, brother?” Shay frowned, a little taken aback to see the notoriously in control hitman seem to flounder just for a second as he ended the call and pushing another shot of whiskey his way.
“Callie’s hurt. Bad,” Colton said briefly, his voice hoarse.
“Then what are we waitin’ for? We gotta go!” the Scot declared, ready to swing into action before it dawned on him he was overlooking one pertinent detail. “Who the fuck’s Callie?”
***
CHAPTER 25
“Mother o’ Christ,” Shay shook his head in disbelief. “Chip goin’ all gooey-eyed over a girl I suppose I kinda get, but Colt? Wait ‘til the boys back home hear this one ...”
“I wouldn’t advise giving him any shit over her, brother,” Will shrugged from across the table. “Not unless you want him to cut your damn head off and post it back to Reno. And don’t go thinking our killer’s gone soft – you ain’t met the girl.”
The Irishman raised an eyebrow at that and grinned. “Bit of a looker, is she?”
“Little blonde, real pretty,” the president conceded with a nod. “Don’t need to get her tits out to get attention either. But that ain’t what I meant. Kid’s got her head screwed on right. Seems smart, respectful of how things work round here.”
“Kid?”
“Twenties,” Will shrugged again. “I dunno exactly. I just see her around the clubhouse sometimes – she’s inked a lot of my guys. Colt included. Maybe twenty-six, twenty-seven?”
Shay whistled appreciatively. “So where they at?”
The president shook his head. “Jesus, man, how the hell should I know? Look, far as I can see, I don’t think you could even say they were dating - but you know how Colt rolls. He ain’t exactly the sharing kind. Guy’s a soldier through and through ...”
“Guy’s a fuckin’ machine.”
“Nah, that’s where I reckon ‘most everyone gets him wrong - Colt included. But this Callie ...” Will trailed off with a thoughtful sigh. “Maybe I’m the one goin’ soft, but I think she gets him. Shit gets in his head and he’s off to that tattoo place, to her. Don’t think she pushes him, or asks questions. She just ... I think she could be good for him. If he lets her.”
“D’ya think is he good for her though?” Shay asked curiously, pouring them both another drink as they waited for news. “Ain’t ever seen Colt wi’ a lass all his own.”
“Helluva question, man, and damned if I know the answer,” came the response. “One thing’s for sure – even if he never puts his ink on her, she ain’t gonna be treated like no pass-around. Not inside these walls, not if I have anything to do with it. I can’t afford the fucking legal bills for any more murder raps!”
The pair chuckled at that, before looking up as Chip joined them at the table. “I set my laptop up in your office, Will. You wanna wait for Sam and Colton to get back or ...?”
“Sam’s just parking up,” Dozer piped up from where he was collecting glasses off tables near the window.
“Ain’t no word from the hospital yet, so I guess we go ahead,” Will said, easing himself up and stretching. “Prospect, tell Sam to join us in my office when he gets in. Right, lads, let’s get this over with ...”
***
She’d picked a hell of a week to quit smoking. Again.
“Look, please, can someone just tell me what’s happening to my friend?” Lana demanded, swivelling every which way as she tried to find anyone in the midst of the busy emergency department who would stand still long enough to listen to her. Longing for the clout she usually had at her disposal – the kind that came with being backed up by a guy with a TV camera.
“This is bullshit!” an even more impatient Sketch declared loudly, as he raked a hand through his short dreads. “What the hell we gotta do to get some answers round here?”
But struck by that thought, Lana turned tail and hurried back to the desk, this time simply pushing her way to the front and ignoring the glares and sounds of protest. The same grim look of determination was on her face as when she was chasing an elusive story and her frustration at being kept in the dark was the only thing to dry her tears and put the fire back her eyes. “Excuse me! Excuse me, Deena, isn’t it?”
“Diane,” the young woman supplied, though she never broke stride as she tried to deal with the mountains of paperwork it apparently took to keep the place running.
“Diane, right ... You probably don’t remember me – Lana Bryans, I’m--”
“You’re that reporter off the TV,” Diane finished for her, having spared her a glance and actually stopped in the middle of what she was doing. “You were here maybe a month ago, working on that story ...”
“About the shit you guys face on a daily basis – long hours, tough conditions, dealing with junkies,” Lana nodded, taking a deep breath and trying to force herself to keep calm. “I never really did get to thank you for your help.”
“Hey, don’t mention it. You did a great job,” the administrator said seriously. “It’s about time people took notice of what’s happening in our hospitals, you know? Are you here for some kind of follow-up or ... Jeez, is that blood on your shirt?”
“I actually came in with my friend. I’m trying to find out what’s happening with her, but because I’m not goddamn family ...” Lana explained wearily, rubbing at the stains on her sleeve with little effect. “Look, I know I shouldn’t ask, but ...”
“Tell me her name and I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Could you? God, I’d be so grateful – not knowing’s driving me up the walls! It’s Callie Delaney. She was brought in with a head injury by paramedics.”
“Give me five minutes,” Diane said.
***
Striding through the clubhouse, re-spiking his hair as he went, Sam’s mind was already in over-drive as he headed to Will’s office – trying to take in what he’d witnessed what and what it meant for his club. It was possible he was jumping to conclusions, he acknowledged. But, on the other hand, he’d never exactly been prone to flights of fancy and no other explanation made quite so much sense ...
FLASHBACK
Turning his head as he felt Ashley slip from the back of his bike, Sam accepted the kiss she pressed firmly to his lips and took back the helmet he had loaned the girl.
“Thanks, Sam,” she smiled, grabbing his wrist to take a quick look at his watch and then glancing towards the former warehouse that housed the far from high-class strip joint where she worked. “I already caught shit twice this week for being late, so I better run.”
“No problem, darlin’,” he shrugged, revving the engine of his Harley. He was ready to peel away, when his gaze drifted over her shoulder to something – or rather someone - that caught his eye in the shadows by the rear entranc
e of the building. “Hey, Ash, anyone use that door apart from staff?”
“Look at the place, Sam,” she said, a slightly bemused look on her face. “Who do you think?”
“Dealers,” he said thoughtfully, more to himself than in answer to the question.
“And pimps--” she started to nod, but he cut her off.
“The boss got some kinda standing deal?” the biker demanded, keeping his voice low. “Who’s dealing round here? An independent? Gangbangers?”
Ashley started to answer, then closed her mouth and simply smiled sweetly as two of her co-workers tottered past on sky-high heels, with their coats pulled tightly around them, presumably to hide the skimpy outfits that lay beneath. Waiting until they were gone, under the pretence of leaning in close to say goodnight to her companion, her arm slid around his shoulders and her lips grazed his ear as she whispered to him. “Faces rotate, colours stay the same. Norteños – new ... branch or whatever they call it. Looking to make some big bucks and get in good with the higher-ups at the same time.”
“Dealing what? Crank?” Sam guessed, still keeping a covert eye on what was going on across the lot. “On Dixie’s say-so?”
“Yeah, mostly,” she confirmed, noting the look that crossed his face and seeming to recall the idle gossip round the clubhouse that the blonde had been a junkie once upon a time. “Look, Sam, I really gotta go ...”
“Just one thing,” he said urgently, catching her arm. “How long d’ya reckon this little deal’s been in place?”
“Jeez, I dunno. I guess it ain’t that long. At least not since the Norteños started earning big,” Ashley frowned. “Word is they cut out some middle-man who was pocketing all the real cash and now they’re looking to expand the business. Works out better for Dixie too. He ain’t paying protection money and he gets a bigger cut from the dealers. Why so interested?”
“Trust me, doll, you don’t wanna know,” came the grim response.
***
Lana heard Sketch’s sharp intake of breath from beside her and couldn’t blame him for the reaction. She covered all sorts of disturbing crime stories on a regular basis, but nothing prepared you for the shock of seeing one of your own friends like that. And yet the relief at knowing things weren’t as bad as they could have been threatened to overwhelm her.
“Sorry, I must look like shit,” Callie managed from the hospital trolley, forcing a weak smile on her pale face.
But, for once, her boss couldn’t bring himself to find a smart comeback. Instead crossing the short distance between them and sitting on the edge of the bed, he gently touched a knuckle to her chin, tilting her head up to get a better look and wincing. “Jesus Christ ...”
“It’s not as bad as it looks.”
“Oh well, that’s okay then!” Sketch bit out, his words laced with sarcasm as he tried and failed to keep a lid on his anger at seeing her in such a state. His eyes never left the large vicious bruise that already surrounded the now neatly stitched gash at her temple. Tendrils of blue and black threaded out from it, the trauma having spread as a result of the force of the impact. Blood was still matted in her blonde hair. To say she had to be in pain was more than an understatement. “Who the fuck did this to you? Was it this Michael – that how he gets his kicks, huh? Tell me, Callie, and I swear I’ll slit his goddamn throat!”
“Go easy, Sketch,” Lana warned, sitting down on Callie’s other side and reaching for her hand as she spotted tears in the younger woman’s eyes. She knew he meant well, but the last thing their friend needed was an inquisition. “She’s been through enough without you yelling at her.”
“I’m so sorry,” Callie whispered, a tear spilling down her cheek despite her efforts to hold them back. “I know I must have worried you guys sick, I never meant to. I just couldn’t stop the bleeding and I ... I got freaked out and ...”
“Shh, sweetie, don’t,” Lana tried to soothe her. “The doctor says you’re concussed, so you need to take it easy--”
“Shit, Cal, I’m the one who’s sorry,” Sketch interrupted, looking mortified at having made her cry. “You know I ain’t angry at you, I just hate seein’ you hurt like this. C’mere, darlin’ ...” And feeling her arms go tentatively around him, he wrapped her up in a protective hug, pressing a kiss to the uninjured side of her head. “Hey, it’s okay - I got ya, baby girl, I got ya ...”
At the sound of a throat clearing from a gap in the curtain around the cubicle, they all looked up to find the hospital administrator watching them with a decidedly harried look on her face.
“Sorry to interrupt, but there’s someone here to see Miss Delaney. I really should be asking you all to wait in the visitors’ room, but he was quite ... determined,” Diane said. “I really have to insist on just five minutes more.”
For a split second, it was plain to everyone that Callie was filled with dread at the thought of who might have shown up. But before anyone could make a move, her eyes were widening at the sight of her new visitor. Colton.
***
“We got a problem.”
“Us? Surely not ...” Will sighed wryly, looking up from his chair at his sergeant, as he, Jake, Johnny, Shay and Chip all gathered round the Reno intel officer’s laptop. “Am I gonna need another drink for this?”
“I wouldn’t rule it out,” Sam said, dropping into a seat of his own and running a hand over his face. “This Kane shit – we’ve been set up.”
“No shit,” the president feigned surprise. “Damn, boy, if I’d known gettin’ laid was gonna fuck with your memory, I’d have thought twice about wasting that sweet little redhead on your ass.”
“I don’t mean having the cops on our tails. This goes deeper. Way deeper. Like why Alex Kane was even on our fucking radar in the first place.”
“Because that fat bastard got greedy and was trying to push drugs where they weren’t wanted,” Will scowled at the memory of the favour called in by an old club owner friend. “You heard the story ...”
“Yeah,” Sam nodded, cracking his knuckles as he too thought back to the grovelling plea for help. “So how come Dixie’s now quite happily raking in the green direct from the Norteños? That little shit just wanted to get out of paying money to Kane to stop the cops raiding his strip joint and finding it full of crank!”
Will exhaled slowly, sitting back in his chair with a stunned look on his face. “You gotta be shitting me ...”
***
“I’m so embarrassed,” Callie admitted quietly, when Sketch and Lana had made their excuses and left them alone. “Sketch shouldn’t have dragged you over here for a ... a bumped head.”
“Hell of a bump, darlin’,” Colton said, raising an eyebrow at her choice of words and taking in the sight of the damage from where he stood, his arms folded across his chest as if to keep his hands from clenching into fists. “Did he do this?”
She didn’t have to ask who he meant, starting to shake her head until the movement made her wince and close her eyes until everything stopped spinning again. “Sketch already wants to slit his throat, but I just fell.”
“Sketch can get to the back of the fucking queue,” the biker growled, never losing a beat. “Was it his fault?”
“Not really. We ... we rowed and he was trying to make me listen to him, but it was an accident, Colt. I hit my head on the table, but it could have happened to either one of us.”
He took that in as he sat down on the edge of the bed vacated by Sketch, dark eyes roving over her as if silently assessing the extent of her injuries. “You gonna be okay?”
She bit her lip and shrugged. “I’ll survive.”
The hand that came up to caress her cheek wasn’t so much gentle as careful, strong fingers grazing her skin like they might the trigger of his gun and something close to relief playing over his otherwise stern face. “Good girl.”
***
CHAPTER 26
Listening to Sketch’s latest rant on exactly why he thought it was a disgrace she wasn’t being kept u
nder observation, Callie tried to hold back a sigh, knowing - despite her throbbing headache - that he was only trying to help. “It’s fine, honestly, Sketch,” she managed. “I’d really rather just be at home.”
“Bastards even making you walk to the damn car ...” he muttered anyway, more to himself than anyone else.
“I’m not an invalid,” the little blonde tried, even though they’d only just made it out the front door and her legs already felt pretty shaky, as her stomach rolled with every step. But, just when she started to doubt she would make it to Lana’s car after all, a strong supportive arm wrapped around her waist.
“Don’t go passing out on me, kid,” Colton warned. “I ain’t carrying your ass.”
Callie couldn’t help suspect, from the way he pulled her close, that he would if he had to though - but she didn’t want that any more than she’d wanted the wheelchair Sketch had tried to liberate. All she wanted was to get back to normal as soon as possible and forget anything had ever happened. That and to lay her aching head on her own cool pillows and sleep for like a week.
But, for now, all she could do was lean against Colton’s solid side and let her eyes drift closed as they waited for Lana to bring the car around - safe in the knowledge that he wouldn’t let her fall.
***
His office cleared of everyone but his sergeant, Will leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling. His clenched jaw was the only outward sign of the thoughts running through his head. Until his fist came crashing down on the desk, that was.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” he roared, all but bouncing to his feet. “Get me a goddamn shotgun and I’ll take care of that cocksucking bastard myself!”
“Easy, boss,” Sam tried to intervene, moving quickly to block the doorway. “You go tearing down there while business is in full flow and you’re just gonna end up in a cell next to me and Colt. Tempting as going after Dixie may be, we gotta think about this.”
Ink (The Haven Series) Page 17