by Jc Emery
“Mercer’s got a uniform on Jennings’s room.” I’ve gone over this again and again in my head and don’t know how the fuck we’re going to work this out. “Not to mention hospital security.”
“You’re so fucking new,” Nic says with a snicker.
Duke smirks at his girl and takes the carrier from her hands. He peers down at Robin and makes a funny face for her. “Your butt buddy is taking care of security. Gonzales is on Jennings, and she’ll leave to take care of Nic.”
“Would you fucking quit with that shit? Trigger’s got a hard-on for my ass, and the last fucking thing I need is you reminding me of that shit.”
“Relax, Jer. I don’t think he really wants to fuck your ass,” Nic says.
Duke purses his lips and looks down at Nic. “Do not get yourself arrested.”
She smiles.
“I mean it, babe. That’s a fucking order. Distract them—that’s all.”
Nic takes Robin back and heads for the hospital while mumbling something about ignoring Duke when he gets bossy. The sappy fuck just smiles at her as she walks away bitching. Fuck, I hope I don’t look like that.
Nic beelines for the nurse’s station in the maternity ward, raising her voice as she gets closer to the large wraparound desk. She’s screeching about fevers and poisonous diapers and something about toxic formula. She even sounds like she’s crying. Christ, she’s a fucking psychopath if she can turn that shit on that quick.
Duke and I dart down a hallway in the opposite direction and through two sets of heavy double doors that signal our exit and entrance into different departments. The hall is lined with Critical Care patient rooms. Right next to a life support station that houses a defibrillation machine and a few locked boxes of shit I’d love to get my hands on is a closed and unmarked door. I stride up to it and push it open, revealing a set of narrow stairs that Duke and I dart up as quickly as we can. By the time we reach the third floor where Darren’s room is, I’m huffing and puffing and ready to pass the hell out. But Duke? No, that motherfucker takes a deep breath and smiles at me.
“Your sister gives me a fucking workout every goddamn night,” he says.
As gross as it is, I know that’s not true right now. “Liar. I read that book. You got another five weeks before you can bust a nut.” I shove my way out into the hallway, desperate to get away from this conversation. I didn’t want to read that book—swear to Christ I didn’t—but Nic made me. And fuck babies. Fuck riding a chick bare. Fuck it all. A bitch’s asshole should only get torn because she’s getting pounded too hard, not because a leechy human is escaping her vagina.
Fuck.
No.
At the end of the hall is Detective Angel Gonzales. When she spots us, she nods her head and leaves her post for the small desk that passes for a nurse’s station in this two-bit hospital. Informing the nurse of an issue downstairs, Gonzales asks for backup in figuring out what’s going on. The nurse is angled away from us, facing a filing cabinet behind the desk. She huffs and explains that she’s not to leave her post. I slip behind a thick square pillar near Jennings’s room and make room for Duke. He and I each pull out a pair of black gloves and slip them on.
No fingerprints.
The doors to the rooms beep, so we have to wait it out until Gonzales gets rid of the nurse. It takes longer than it should before Gonzales gets her out of here and they disappear into the elevator.
Duke shoots out from behind the pillar and into Jennings’s room. The door beeps on entrance, and I grab ahold of the handle to slip in behind him. Jennings is lying in the bed in the center of the private room. He’s looking pretty good for a guy who got fucked by a flathead less than a year ago. I expected a breathing tube and maybe a million wires and machines surrounding him. But that’s not the case. He’s not hooked up to an IV, and he doesn’t even have a heart monitor attached to him. The most I can see is a small red button attached to a cord sitting on the side of the mattress.
His brown hair is slicked back and wet, his skin is paler than I remember, and his brown eyes appear lethargic despite how wide they’ve become. Slowly, he blinks. His finger moves toward the red button, but he’s not quick enough. He must be medicated. I dart toward the bed and grab his icy hand. He trembles under my touch, egging me on to grip him tighter.
“Remember me?” I ask with more cheer in my voice than I feel. Being around him makes me tense as fuck and ready to end him. In theory at least. I’ve never hurt anyone outside of the heat of the moment before. And I’ve definitely never taken another person’s life. Grady tried to tell me once that taking a life will fuck you up, but I didn’t believe him until I was witness to one of Holly’s panic attacks. Crazy chick beat a dude’s face in with a brick, and it took her weeks to come to terms with that. If she’s that fucked up over the one, I don’t know how the brothers deal with the shit they do.
What we do is important. We protect our town. We protect our own. We keep order when the cops can’t or won’t. But that doesn’t mean that what I’m about to do isn’t fucking me up.
I move the red button to the table beside his bed and let go of his hand. As predicted, he reaches for the button again, fast at least this time, but doesn’t make it. Instead of moving the button out of his reach, I wrap my fingers around his throat and squeeze as hard as I can.
“Release him,” Duke says firmly, still standing near the door. He hasn’t done shit since we got in here. Reluctantly, I let go and watch as Darren struggles to suck in pathetic breath after pathetic breath. His eyes are bugged out as he strains to move up the bed. Cringing, he claws his way into a sitting position.
“You’ve been awake for a while now, and there’s no telling the shit you’ve been telling people,” Duke says.
Darren gasps and says, “No, no. I haven’t said anything to anybody.”
“You believe him?” I ask.
Duke grins and pulls a flathead screwdriver out of his pocket. “Not a word. Good thing I’m not here to talk.”
“Please,” Darren begs. Tears stream down his face as Duke pops the flathead into the air and catches it. Unable to help myself, I reach down and slap him across the face.
“Act like a bitch and I’ll treat you like one,” I hiss.
Duke whistles, catching my attention, and tosses the flathead to me. I catch it easily and hold it by the handle, pointing the tip at Darren’s mouth. His breathing comes more ragged and strained now. He’s not saying a word, but his eyes beg for relief.
“Lick it,” I bite out. Panic seizes him, forcing strangled cries from his lungs. Fucking asshole can’t ever do what he’s told. Wrapping my fingers around his neck again, I squeeze and lean in, smiling wide. “Lick it and act like it’s my dick, asshole.”
I pull back and watch as his tongue slowly peeks out and touches the metal of the tip of the screwdriver. Lightening up on my grip around his throat, I watch the depravity I’m forcing on him. My stomach rolls as the sight, and for half a second I have to close my eyes. Killing him might be easier than torturing him like this. It’s not that I don’t think he deserves whatever comes to him. It's just that the idea of hurting someone is different than actually hurting them. The club has a debt to settle with Larry Jennings, and in typical Forsaken fashion, we’re going through the person who matters to him most to do it.
“Got a problem, Baby Boy?” Duke asks from the foot of the bed. He’s got Darren’s hospital chart in his hands and is studying it.
“Just hit me, ya know? Darren hurts Nic, we hurt Darren. Larry hurts Mindy, we hurt Larry.”
Duke nods and sets the chart back in its slot. He walks up the other side of the bed and places a hand on Darren’s chest. Darren’s eyes bug out as he stares nervously at Duke’s hand, his mouth still working the flathead like a pro.
“Nic won’t tell me much about what happened, and you were too young to see it all very clearly, but this guy? I’m sure he remembers it all. I’ll bet he remembers waiting until Butch got busted to take Nic’s vir
ginity. I’ll bet he remembers telling her the only man who will ever love her now is him.”
Every ounce of guilt and fear that I’m feeling slowly disappears, and in its place is a numbness. It makes me want to barf, but I feel my conscience dying every second that Duke speaks. It’s like my body’s gone on autopilot as I slowly slide the flathead farther into Darren’s mouth.
“Did she ever tell you that this prick told her he was going to kill my baby? She ever tell you that my baby being inside her made him sick, sick enough to brutalize her until my fucking kid was dead?”
My muscles tense as the flathead darts into his mouth quickly, hitting what I think is his tongue. Duke’s iron fist reaches out and pulls me back. Darren coughs and lunges forward as the flathead leaves his mouth. The blade and shank are covered in blood. Unlike before, the reality of what I’ve done doesn’t seem to creep up on me as I watch him choke on his own blood. He leans to Duke’s side, spitting it out all over his bed. Duke lifts the bed sheet to cover himself from the blood splatter and says, “We’re not ready to kill him yet.”
“Right.” I tuck the screwdriver into my pocket.
“It’s in your best interest to get your bitch daddy and cunt mommy back in town. Either they come home for your release from the hospital or for your funeral. It’s your choice. You have two weeks,” Duke says and swiftly throws his clenched fist into Darren’s face before he walks away. Darren folds in on himself, blood streams now from his nose as well as he cries into his hands.
Grabbing ahold of his hair, I hiss into his ear, “I don’t have to tell you that telling anyone about this visit is a bad idea, do I?”
Darren shakes and sobs simultaneously as I pull the syringe from the pocket of my hoodie and pop off the cap. Ryan suggested a sweet coke/meth powder combo, but that just seemed like too much work. Taking a deep breath, I grab his arm and position him as best I can to make it look like he’s injected himself in his stomach. I don’t give a fuck if the stomach is a place people shoot up—I wouldn’t fucking know—but his arm is stiff and uncooperative.
“Save a place for me in Hell,” I murmur as I plunge the concoction into his body. He shakes mercilessly, cries booming from his throat, and stares down at the needle in his stomach with wide, fearful eyes.
I take a step back and reach over, handing him the red button to make sure he doesn’t end up dying just yet. His fingers struggle to push the plastic piece down, but he finally makes it, and I bolt out of there before I have to stare at what I’ve done any longer.
Duke’s just outside the door, and together we race to the same stairwell we just came from and down to the second floor where the cafeteria is. A few minutes after sitting down with a pair of nasty hospital burgers, Nic comes in, escorted by a frazzled nurse. My sister has the good sense to look sheepish as she sets Robin in a chair between her and Duke.
“She has gas,” Nic says quietly.
The nurse clears her throat. “Ms. Whelan, please call the nurse helpline next time you’re worried. We’re here to help.”
I raise an eyebrow at the nurse, who tucks a stray hair behind her ear and feels around ensuring the rest of her hair is still up in a messy bun. The woman diverts my gaze and turns away. When she does, I realize where I know her from. She’s got an angel tattoo on the back of her neck. The last time I saw that, she was naked and swinging around a pole at the clubhouse.
“What did you do?” I ask, curiously.
Nic smiles down at Robin and says, “It wasn’t me. She really did have gas. Wouldn’t stop screaming. I just acted like I didn’t know how to deal with it.”
Duke and I smile at my sister, who can’t take her eyes off her baby. My eyes drift to his, and when he turns toward me, I say, “It’s worth it.”
He returns my words with a nod before digging into his nasty burger. We fall into conversation about the upcoming party at Pres’s place and whether or not we should bring food or beer.
“I can’t drink, so food,” Nic says.
“But I can, so beer,” Duke retorts.
“This party is half in honor of the human I birthed, and she can’t do either, so I get her vote. Chey isn’t legal to drink, so she automatically votes food. That means we win. Food.”
Duke and I throw our hands up at her reasoning and laugh easily. Not that Chey won’t drink just because she’s not legal, but Nic’s crafty and I’m in too good of a mood to argue. It should always be like this. There’s just one person missing—my girl.
CHAPTER 23
April
12 months to Mancuso’s downfall
The aging car radio crackles under the strain of the weakened signal the farther we get from town. Fort Bragg doesn’t have any good radio stations, but that doesn’t stop us from turning on the radio and trying anyway. It’s sad really. You would think we would have learned by now.
The news personality, whose name I don’t even know, blabs on and on about the fucking weather like it’s some big surprise that it’s raining in Mendocino County in winter. Frustrated, I reach over and change the station, hoping for something more entertaining. There are few choices, and even fewer that sound appealing, but one word catches my attention, and I dial back to hear the story.
Sure enough, the station is delivering a news report, too, but this one is far more interesting than the last one about the rain. The whiny newscaster voice chirps through my Bug’s speakers, but I push through the annoyance because just a moment ago he said the name Darren Jennings.
“Quoting an unnamed source who reached out to us earlier today, ‘the attack on Darren Jennings appeared to have come out of nowhere, but without a statement from the police department, our community is forced to assume it was a gang-related attack, possibly in retaliation for Jennings’s father’s supposed gambling debt.’ Again, this statement is coming from an unnamed source in the community. Rumors have circled our small town since Darren Jennings was admitted to Coast Hospital last summer. While the police appeared to have a few leads initially, they have since reported no further progress in determining who is behind the former football star’s attack. St. Mary’s Catholic Church has asked on behalf of Jennings’s absent family that the people Fort Bragg continue to keep an eye out for suspicious activity and an open heart for the grief the Jennings family is suffering.”
They’re not reporting anything I haven’t heard already. Two days ago, I was left alone at Duke and Nic’s house while the three of them took Robin to the hospital for a supposed fever. But when they got back, Nick said it was just gas. I don’t know anything about babies, but even I know you can’t possibly confuse a fever with gas. Later that night, when the news reported that Darren Jennings had been found in his hospital room with a needle of methamphetamine pumped into his stomach, I knew it was the club. And I didn’t give a shit. That bastard hurt Nic, and he tried to hurt Robin. I may not be a brother, but I am Forsaken. That means he hurt my family, and fuck him if he expects any sympathy.
I want to ask Jeremy about Darren, but I don’t dare. He seems freaked. He did well to shower right after he came back from the hospital, and then he basically forbid me to even ask what happened. I wanted to press the issue, but he just crawled into bed with me and held me as if his life depended on it. Later that night, when he had fallen asleep, I lay awake, restless and fearful. That’s the worst part of being a woman in this world. We can ask questions and even beg for answers, but if the club doesn’t want to give them, they won’t. And there’s nothing we can do about that. Sometimes, it feels like I’m being punished by straddling the edge of the world but never been fully welcomed into it.
I choose this, I tell myself. Because I do. I choose Jeremy. I don’t regret it, even when he flops around for hours, struggling to find peace and refusing to tell me why he is so troubled. I suppose if it is this difficult for him to deal with, then I should respect his wishes and let him have his privacy.
So when we pull up to Ruby and Jim’s house and Jeremy cuts the car, I lean over an
d place a kiss on his cheek. I don’t really have to say anything to let them know that I’m here.
I climb out of the car and head directly for the house, but Jeremy doesn’t follow. He wanders off toward Ryan and Squat for some kind of crazy intense conversation that I want no part of. So instead, I sneak into the house through the sliding glass door that opens into the hallway near Alex’s room. I don’t think I’m supposed to know that, but the brothers are a bunch of chatty bitches. I figure if Jeremy is busy, then maybe I can actually hang out with Alex for a few minutes. We have been friends long enough but have never actually hung out. It’s kind of sad, really.
I close the door behind me and tiptoe down the hall but pause at the sound of a familiar gruff voice. Dad.
I peer around the corner to the game room and find that Dad and Holly are tucked into the corner. Neither look terribly pleased, but I can’t help watching anyway. It’s been three days since I’ve seen him, and as much as I want to say that I’m an adult and it doesn’t hurt, I would be lying. He’s my dad, and even when I don’t want to admit it, his opinion matters to me. He made me feel like a cheap whore and acted like Jeremy only wants me for my body. But I know that’s not true. Still, it was terribly hurtful and mean for him to say it. What’s worse is that Holly saw it all and didn’t say anything. She’s supposed to be on my side.
“You have to talk to her,” Holly says. Dad huffs and rolls his shoulders like he’s going to put up a fight, but Holly doesn’t give him any time. “One of the reasons I fell in love with you was because I got to see the kind of father you are. I know how much you love your little girl, and I know it kills you to see her grow up, but making her feel like crap is only going to push her away.”
“We still on this?” he asks.
“I can’t live with you being this grouchy. You need to talk to Cheyenne. You’re upset, but she’s upset, too. She’s not one of your brothers, so handle her with a little more care, will ya?”