An Honest Mistake

by L. Grubb

  Chapter 25

  Cobra

  Riding down the back roads of LA in the early dusk of the evening, we head toward Angeles National Forest where, it seems, the Hell Riders have a building. A building I never knew existed. It’s tucked away in hundreds of trees, not visible from the pedestrian pathways or the car parking lot that embellishes the front entrance. The building isn’t displayed on any of the maps we looked at online. I’m certain they made sure of that. The ride is quite a long one, but the adrenaline at what’s going to happen is flowing through me like water, and I can’t wait to kick every one of their asses.

  We turn into the parking lot at the entrance and immediately turn the key to silence the rumbling that fills the air. Eerie stillness greets us when we climb from our bikes.

  We huddle around in a circle, speaking in muted voices, going over the plan one last time. Personally, I think we won’t be sticking to the well-constructed plan anyway but give my input when needed.

  We start our walk through the dense woods, being careful not to make too much noise to alert anyone around of our presence.

  After walking for a few miles through the forest, we finally spot the offending building, looming despondently, spotlights lighting up the outside.

  It looks like a regular one story log cabin, well kept with an aura of welcome. But we know better. We know what hides behind those doors, what evil bastards lay in wake for our attack. Yet, they have no idea we hacked their shit to find this place. Chip is extra careful when hacking, leaving no trace that he was there.

  The steady stream of adrenaline is heating my skin, making my fists clench knowing Alexis’ best friend is in there, suffering fuck knows what. I growl low in my chest wanting to run in. Fuck the consequences.

  “Steady, VP. And you Champ,” Prez says to us. I didn’t even realize he had stopped and was staring between us.

  I look at Champ and see his red, angry face staring the cabin, breathing hard and body shaking.

  “How are we doing this?” I ask through gritted teeth.

  I don’t want to be fucking standing here hashing out the details. Again. But we need to get in there, pronto.

  “Do you not listen to instructions?” Prez stares at me, face down turned in disappointment. “I’ve just dished out instructions for you bunch, where the hell were you?”

  “Sorry, Prez.” He must’ve said that while I was trying to rein in my temper.

  He again repeated that we round the building, crouched down low, all together and look through the windows to assess the situation.

  Making our way around to the left side of the oversized hut, careful not to step on twigs and branches along the way and peer into each window, slowly, as not to alert anyone that we’re here.

  The first window shows us the kitchen, and one man sat at the table playing dominoes, AK-47 on the wooden chair beside him.

  Continuing our walk around the shack, looking in each window, counting the men and guns, we meet back around the front, just off to the side.

  “No Lauren,” I whisper.

  “No shit, Sherlock,” Champ retorts, sneering at me.

  “Boys, enough. She’s in there somewhere. Time for some fun, brothers.” Prez’s voice, low and stern, chastises us and shaking his head.

  We all fist bump for luck before I move to the front door, knocking loud on the handmade wooden door.

  “Yeah?” a gruff voice asks, opening the door.

  “Surprise, motherfucker!” I say before headbutting him, knocking him flat on his ass, blood bursting from his nose, splattering the front of my shirt. The metallic smell rises up my nostrils. I fucking live for this shit.

  We step over his body, guns out and ready for any fucker to come mess with us. No one comes rushing out so we separate to check each of the rooms.

  I take the kitchen, making my way slowly but efficiently toward the room. I stand in the doorway, watching the stupid dipshit still playing dominoes. “Mind if I join you?” I sneer in a menacing tone.

  “What the…” Before the asshole can turn around, I smack the butt of my gun in the back of his head. He slumps forward onto the table, groaning in pain.

  “Don’t. Move. A. Fucking. Inch.”

  The stupid idiot moves his left arm, reaching for his gun. I shoot two rounds into his skull before his fingers make contact, a red river running off the table and pooling at his feet. I blow the end of my gun, just like you see in the movies, smirking at my handiwork.

  “Hello, Cobra,” a hoarse voice sounds behind me. I smile to myself, knowing exactly who it is. “Glad you could finally join us.”

  “Expecting us, Tank?” I say, turning to face him. The guy is a fucking monster. Well over six foot five, he towers over everyone. His broad shoulders blocking the entrance to the kitchen and muscles flexing under his short sleeved shirt.

  “Of course.” He wipes a large meaty hand under his nose, eyeing me up and down with disdain before continuing, “We have Champs’ girl. I’m surprised it took you this long to find us.”

  “Oh, we found out about this place the day after you took Lauren. We were just biding our time,” I reply, cocking my hip on the side counter.

  “She can’t mean too much to your MC if you waited so long.” He laughs a bitter laugh before spitting on the linoleum covered floor.

  “You don’t know jack shit, Tank. And we aren’t scared of a few little boys and their toy guns,” I bite back, a bitter taste at the back of my throat.

  “Toy guns? Really?”

  Before I have a chance to react, he shoots me in the side, a burning, searing pain driving through me. I grab my side and red liquid oozes through my fingers.

  Another two shots ring out from behind Tank, and he drops to the ground like a sack of potatoes, and Champ comes rushing in, catching me before I hit the floor.

  The room is spinning in all directions, and I’m shaking uncontrollably. Fuck. This hurts.

  “Lauren…” I croak out, coughing. Pressure over my wound makes me more dizzy and I cry out in pain.

  “We got her, VP. Stay with me, brother. I can’t lose you!” Champ shakes me, but darkness has already taken control and before I can make a smartass reply, I slip into blackness.

  Alexis

  I pace the main room impatiently, biting my nails. A nervous energy fills me, and I can’t shake it, and the bad feeling in the pit of my stomach keeps on growing as the hours pass with no news from anyone. Images of Cobra, killed, flash through my mind and a shudder runs through my body.

  “Stop pacing, girl. It isn’t doing us any favors,” I hear Kristine say from her perch on one of the bar stools. “They do this all the time, they’ll be fine.”

  She says this, but I can hear the worry behind her words. She’s only saying them to calm me, but it’s not working.

  “Here.” Rhonda, Flippers Old Lady hands me a small round glass filled with amber liquid. “It’ll help your nerves, sweety.”

  I down the contents in one, passing the glass back to her. The burn down the back of my throat makes me cough and splutter, but the warmth of it spreads through my body, making my pulse return back to normal.

  For the next hour we sit around a low table, a bottle of brandy in the middle and talking about the boys. Kristine and Rhonda fill me in on what each man is like, how they joined the club, and how they got their club names. We even have a laugh, which is wrong, right? I mean, these men are out there, God knows where, lives on the line, and here we are having a drink and a laugh.

  Another wave of guilt washes over me. It must show on my face because Rhonda calls me out on it. “Why the look of guilt, hunni?”

  “Here we are, having a drink and a laugh while they’re out there…” I don’t finish my sentence, I don’t need to. The looks on their faces tell me they understand.

  “You shouldn’t feel guilty. They don’t expect us to halt everything just because they’re on a run. We carry on like normal, keeping busy to will our minds to remain sane,” Kristine p
ipes up, pouring us each another glass of brandy.

  We sit in silence, contemplating our thoughts before Kristine’s phone chimes from the bar. I sit up straighter, following her moves as she goes to answer it.

  Her face drops as sadness shines in her eyes. I drop my glass to the table with a heavy thud, standing on wobbly legs and wait for her to hang up.

  “We’ll be right there.” She throws the phone back down and looks at me, sympathy in her facial expression. “They’re at White Memorial Medical Center.”

  With that, we rush to the main doors, not knowing who is injured, but intent on reaching the hospital for answers. Clambering into Kristine’s BMW, we peel out of the courtyard in breakneck speed. Every traffic light has us screaming at it like hyenas. We must look like crazy fools, but I couldn’t give a rats ass.

  I see the hospital up ahead and urge Kristine to put her foot down. My body’s shaking, my head pounding and ears ringing as we approach the ‘no parking’ zone. Kristine parks haphazardly, and we scramble out, running for the front door. We approach the receptionist, out of breath and disheveled from running.

  “We’re looking for a bunch of bikers that came in about half hour ago?” Kristine asks the lady behind the desk, gasping for breath and gripping the edges of the counter, her knuckles turning white.

  “Just a moment and I’ll check on the system for you,” the lady, whose name badge reads Cecilia, replies, giving us warm smiles. “Ah, here it is. Are you family?”

  “Yes. All three of our husbands are in there,” Kristine answers, taking the lead.

  “Okay, if you would follow me, I’ll show you to where they all are.” She gets up from her squeaking chair and leads us down a long corridor.

  The walls are painted a mellow yellow with a cream border. Much different to other hospitals I know. This one is more welcome with different colors for different departments.

  We round the third corner and we can hear the Prez shouting for answers. He comes into view, standing face to face with a middle-aged man in green scrubs.

  “I don’t have any answers for you right now, sir. He’s still in surgery. If you would excuse me, I have to get back in there.” With that, the man walks off in the opposite direction to us.

  The Prez runs a hand through his messy hair, which sticks out in all directions, before finally realizing we’re standing there. Kristine rushes to him and jumps into his outstretched arms, peppering his face with kisses. This scene makes me smile.

  Cobra. Where is he? My heart thumps painfully against my ribcage, threatening to come straight out.

  “Prez?” I ask timidly from my post where me and Rhonda were left standing.

  “Alexis.” I see him swallow, hard, while his eyes are wide and staring at me.

  “Where is he? Please,” I beg, tears shimmering at the corners of my eyes. He just continues to stare at me, swallowing.

  “He’s in surgery,” he replies, barely audible, shuffling from foot to foot.

  I’ve never seen this side of the Prez. He always swaggers around like a hard ass, never showing his emotions.

  “WHAT!?” I screech, hand covering my mouth. My legs wobble, and I tumble to the floor. Shock, horror and anger flooding my body, and I sit on the cold, sterile floor in a heap of shaking limbs.

  The girls rush to me, along with Prez, and he hauls me to my feet, effectively carrying me to the waiting room where I see everyone sat in silence.

  Prez places me on one of the comfy loungers, Kristine and Rhonda flank each side of me, grabbing my hands as I sit there staring into thin air.

  Champ walks over, crouching down in front me, stroking my hair away from my face. “Are you okay, Alexis?”

  I just sit there, numbness consuming me. He sighs, gives me a tentative smile before standing up, returning to his post in the far corner.

  “Where’s Lauren?” I ask the room, looking at each of their faces, effectively begging for an answer.

  “She’s in a room upstairs. They gave her something to help her rest. She’s safe,” Champ replies to me, giving me a small smile.

  I just nod, too numb to continue a conversation. I’ll see her after I’ve had news about Cobra.

  Two hours of utter silence later, a doctor walks in, carrying a clipboard and a bored expression. “Family of Dominic Mason?”

  I look up at him, standing up from my seat to face him. “I’m his girlfriend.” My voice is scratchy; husky sounding from lack of use. “But we’re all his family.” I wave my hand around the room at the others.

  “Okay, well Dominic had a serious wound to his side. It was mainly a through and through shot, but it did slice through an artery that bled profusely. It was touch and go for a while in surgery, but he’s pulled through. We’ve mended the artery and stopped the bleeding. The next forty-eight hours are critical, and he’ll be staying in the ICU. Only two at a time to visit him please and just one overnight.”

  “Thank you, doc,” I whisper, pulse racing and a calm washes over me. I know shit could still happen in the next forty-eight hours, but I can’t help the hope I feel. He’ll be okay, I know he will. He has to be.

  “Alexis, come with me,” Prez huffs out in a sigh of relief.

  We walk out the waiting room and head toward the bank of elevators. “We’ll see him first. You can stay here overnight, and we’ll have a prospect on the door.”

  I nod in answer as we enter the elevator, pressing the button for the floor housing the ICU. We stand in awkward silence while we ascend.

  Once we exit on the right floor and are pointed in the right direction, the Prez turns to me and says, “I’m here if you need a shoulder. Just don’t tell anyone.”

  I chuckle at this. I see him in a whole new light now, he’s like a papa bear with a tough exterior.

  We reach the door to the ICU, and my steps falter. I don’t think I can see him in there. Prez halts just before going through, looking back and crinkling his brows in question. “Ready?”

  I swallow around a lump deep in my throat before nodding and taking the last few steps to the door.

  Walking through, I hear the insistent beeping from the monitors. Only one person lays in this room, and the sight of him chokes me. The dam breaks and the tears fall, loud, heavy sobs come out, and I clamp a hand over my mouth when I notice the mountains of wires and the thick tube down his throat. My God. His skin is pasty looking, sweat coating his forehead. He looks awful but sexy all at once.

  I walk over on unsteady legs, collapsing in the chair beside his bed. I take his clammy hand in mine, stroking a thumb over his calloused knuckles.

  “You have to be okay, babe. You have to wake up because I can’t live without your smarmy attitude. I love you.” I bring his hand to my lips placing a peck on the back before leaning down and placing my head atop it, quietly sobbing.

  I’ve been sitting with him quietly just an hour before Prez lays a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s let the others come and see him. I’ll take you to Lauren.”

  Placing one last kiss on his moist cheek, I leave my post and head out the door, head hung low to hide my puffy face.

  Back to the bank of elevators we go, walking side by side. I can feel the pent up tension in the Prez, it radiates off him in waves.

  “Lauren?” I say, entering her room.

  “Alexis?” Her eyes light up with excitement and a smile spreads across her face. “You’re okay?”

  “I’ve been worried sick about you.” My voice wavers, I hold back the tears, just relishing the fact my best friend is safe. “I’m fine.”

  “I thought they had you, too. They kept telling me to behave, or they would kill you. They said you were in another room.” Her lips quiver with upset, and her voice trails off. “I was so scared, Alexis.”

  I rush to her, wrapping her carefully in my arms, not knowing where she’s hurt. She cries into my chest for the next ten minutes as I soothe her with words and my embrace.

  “I’m so sorry, Lauren. I should never have let
you go to the bathroom on your own,” I say.

  She scoots out of my hug so quickly that she winces.

  “Don’t you dare apologize. This is NOT your fault. It’s Cobra’s,” she snarls, the anger in her voice making me cringe. Cobra’s fault?

  “I don’t understand…,” I begin, but she interrupts me.

  “He’s the reason the whole club was targeted. Did no one tell you?” she fires at me. “Did no one tell you what an asshole he is?”

  “Is? He’s lying in the ICU on death’s door, I kind of didn’t give anyone a chance to say anything to me. He could die, Lauren. And you’re sitting here hating on him.”

  Her shocked look tells me no one has come to talk to her about anything either.

  “I guess we’ve both been kept in the dark.” She shakes her held while she says this.

  “Please tell me what you mean by everything being his fault,” I beg. I need to know.

  She bites her lip, contemplating whether to tell me anything. But in the end, she spills it all out. “When he was sixteen, he killed someone.”

  I don’t know why I seemed so shocked, I’ve learned a lot from the Old Ladies while we were at the clubhouse, waiting. I learned that Cobra was the club assassin, a hit man. I knew he killed and weirdly it didn’t bother me. Clouded by love? Maybe. I’m not a judgmental character and hate people who are so quick to judge.

  Lauren continues, “He killed a woman, an Old Lady from the Hell Riders.”

  Now this, this shocked me and shook me to the very core. He killed a woman?

  “I…He…What?” I stumbled over my words, struggling to form a coherent sentence.

  “I’m not sure how or why, Alexis,” she whispers this, and I just sit there, once again completely numb.

  Chapter 26

  Alexis

  3 weeks later

  After the day Lauren told me that Cobra murdered a woman, I left. I never looked back. Champ text me a few days after and asked where I was. He never once mentioned or told me about Cobra. I don’t care whether he’s alive or dead. My heart has shattered, broken into so many little pieces scattered around my apartment. I miss him and his warm smile, the way he rains kisses down my body, the way he makes me feel so high on life.