by Joy Blood
“Oh my goodness.” She clutches her chest and is about to scream when I get up to her face and press my palm against her mouth.
“Don’t scream. Head fuckin’ hurts,” I tell her, my voice sounding even tenser. Shit, I need some water. I clear my throat and back away, turning to see if there is a faucet in this room. I’m in luck, but I don’t see any cups, not that I would waste time with one anyway. Taking the few steps over to the sink, I flick it on and lean down to the water to take a few large gulps.
“Sir, I came in here to change your bandages. You shouldn’t be out of bed. You may open your stitches,” the woman still behind me says in a trembling voice. I turn back to her, watching as she visibly shrinks down, then drops to her knees to pick up the supplies she had been carrying.
“Where are they?”
“They? Your friends? There is one right outside the door.” She points to the door and I make my way toward it. Throwing it open, despite further annoyances from the nurse, I find a face I didn’t expect sitting in a chair right outside the room. He is slumped over and snoring. Fast asleep at his post. I swing my foot out and kick the chair. Hard. My side twinging in pain as I do so.
“Shit,” he grits out, fumbling for a moment before he looks up at me. “VP. You’re awake,” Sam says, getting to his feet. He looks rough as fuck, face bruised up, ]barely able to see through one of his eyes. On top of that, he looks like he has spent days sitting in that chair. Kid even has a good beard growing. I look down to see he has my cut clutched in his hands. Good, saves me from having to kill someone.
“How long?” I question, taking the leather from his hand.
“Jake…” he says, but I don’t want to hear it. I storm back into the room and tell the nurse to do what it was she was here for. Patch me back up. I refuse to sit down and with a sigh, she starts placing the gauze and tape.
“Talk, Sam,” I say, knowing he is standing behind us.
“It’s been three days.” Three fucking days and by the look he had on his face when I asked him, I know the answer to my next question.
“What is it?” I demand, knowing he is holding something back, something he is keeping from me
“She’s at Flores’s compound. The boys are all in Cali trying to figure out a way in,” he tells me. My fist slams into the mattress. The nurse finishes up, and I back away to put my cut on.
“Sir, please. You can’t leave. You need to be discharged and…” her words drift off as I walk past Sam and out the door. His footsteps are heavy behind me as I make my way through the halls, following the exit signs.
“Let me lead the way, VP,” he says, trying to get in front of me to lead us out of the hospital. We go down a hall to an elevator and finally make it outside to the fresh air, free of the smell of antiseptic. “Truck is this way.” He nods, and we walk toward the parking lot. Little fucker has my truck.
“We have a long drive, so you should lay back and get some rest. Here,” he hands over a bottle of pills, “grabbed these. Take them for the pain. You are going to need to be rested up. It will take us at least a day to get there. Sleep,” he instructs, again. I don’t fuckin’ want to, but I know he is right. I pop one pill and swallow it dry leaning back in the seat to get somewhat comfortable.
“Happened to ya?” I ask, needing to know what I sent the kid into.
“Blake and Zeke jumped me from behind. Got me over the back of the head with something. Then drove my truck out into the fucking lake with me inside. Fucking assholes,” he grumbles. “Just made my last payment on the fuckin’ thing, too.” He sounds more pissed off about his truck than the fact that he almost died. “Barely got out of there before it went under. Made my way to the shore and laid there ‘till the boys found me,” he tells me, like it is no big deal.
“Good you’re alive,” I grit out.
“Yeah. I just hope Kimi is okay. I failed you VP,” he says in a solemn tone. I only give him a head shake as the pills start to kick in and do their job, drifting me off into nothingness.
* * *
“Wake up, Jakey Boy!” Gin’s voice booms through my comatose state. I groggily blink my eyes open to find the sun just starting to go down. The beams shining through the windshield blinding me momentarily.
“Where are we?” I croak out, clearing my throat to try and speak again but Gin answers.
“In Cali, ‘bout five miles from Flores’s compound. Boys are here. Get your ass up,” he tells me, backing away from my opened door. Sam has already gotten out and is standing outside my door. Leaning forward, the bandages pull at my skin from under my cut and I chance a look under the leather. Not as bad as I thought. Just a slight tinge of blood is seeping through where the bullet penetrated.
Gripping the bottle of pills in my hand, I pull open the door and step out of the truck where I’m greeted by Vin. “Look like shit, Jake,” he says with a laugh.
“Asshole,” I mutter as he chuckles even more.
“Won’t argue with that.” He grins, opening the door to the diner we have pulled up to.
Inside the place is dated as fuck. Tables cracked and peeling at the sides. Old plastic booths, cracks running down them as well, exposing the grimy cushion underneath. “Couldn’t meet in a dump?” I question as I reach the table and Rock’s earshot.
“VP. Good to see you’re still alive. Take a seat and we will go over the plan.” I slide into the booth and take the offered coffee, popping one more pill to dull the pain that’s trying to come back. When this is all over and I have my girl back in my arms, I’m going to sleep for a fuckin’ week and heal completely. Then, I’m going to marry her whether she likes it or not.
“When we goin’ in?” I question, looking pointedly at Rock.
“Sundown. You up for a hike?” Fucking hell.
I end up popping one more pill after Vin replaces my bandages. Then I pull on a t-shirt from one of the brothers and strap on a bulletproof vest. Being sure to tighten it up, applying pressure to my wounds. The dull ache starts to ebb but not enough to be completely gone. I still want to be vigilant. I strap a gun to my ankle opposite from my knife, I then tuck one into the back of my jeans and cover my vest proudly with my cut. We decided to all go in wearing our colors, letting Flores know just who he is fucking with.
“Here. Put this in your ear.” Rock hands me a small black object that looks like a tiny speaker. I do as he says and his voice fills my ear. “Good?” he questions. I nod holding my finger over the piece in my ear to respond. “Good,” he says and goes to the next. I hear them all test as well and continue to ready myself for the fight.
When my eyes land on Sam, finding him suited up, I make my way over to him, glaring him down. “No,” Is all I say, making him narrow his eyes at me.
“I’m going. She is here because I fucked up.” I shake my head again and Gin comes to my side.
“Can you shoot Pros?’ Gin questions, pulling out a gun to hand over to him.
“Yeah. Hunted some when I was a kid.” I scoff at that.
“Still a kid,” I grit out. I don’t want him going out there and getting killed because I decided to drag him into this shit.
“Need the manpower, Jakey Boy. You know it,” Gin states, making me want to punch him.
“Fine. Stay in the back,” I order and storm away from them. I need to let it go, if he is going to be prospecting for the club, he can’t be babied. I go over to the truck and climb in. We are about to drive off when the thunder of bikes pulls our attention. Each of our hands go to our weapons but slowly back away once we see who it is rolling up to us. The Siberians.
Premo is the first to park and kill his engine, walking up to me in greeting. “Jake. Good to see you’re alive. Rock,” he directs his attention to the Pres, “I hope you have room for more. Would hate to pass up this chance to kill me some of the Pardaѐ gang.” He chuckles, extending his hand to Rock.
“Would be an honor brother,” Rock says, taking the Siberian President by the hand, sealing our alliance.
We are spilling blood together.
“Well, let’s get going then,” Premo says, caulking his gun with a smile.
Forty-Four
Jake
The walk through the desert is long, fuckin’ cold too, but I push past it, one foot in front of the other until the lights of the compound start to come into view. Signals go out to halt our stance and I crouch down, only to hear that telltale sound of a rattle. Fuckin’ snakes. I grab my knife from my ankle and ready my swing, but the little bastard decides to be smart and slowly slithers away. I can barely see him in the faint moonlight as he goes.
I hear Rock’s voice fill my ear, telling my group to go toward the left side of the compound while his goes right. I have a few Siberians, Gin, Sam, and Premo with me. Step by step we draw closer and I can feel a rush of adrenaline start to pump through me. My knife is still gripped in my hand, so I quickly put it back into my ankle holster and pull the pistol from the back of my jeans.
The vast size of the tall concrete wall topped with barbed wire makes the place look like a prison. “You’re up,” I say to Gin and he steps forward with his bag of goodies. He runs out wire and connects it to the C4 he has stuck to the cement wall.
“All good. Probably should get back a bit though,” Gin says, getting to his feet nodding toward the vacant desert. We jog back and wait for the okay over the earpieces.
One minute.
Two minutes.
Three minutes.
“The fuck is goin’ on?” I mumble to myself, as Gin is saying it through the mic. We are only met with silence. Then the popping of gunshots from the far end of the compound. “Blow it, Gin,” I command.
“Fuck,” he mutters and presses the button. The loud bang followed by pieces of the concrete wall fly through the air and land all around us. When the smoke and dust clear, we make our way in, guns drawn and ready to fire. Hang on Key, I’m coming for ya.
We file through the breach in the wall, making our way toward the large two-story building. All Flores’s men must be on the other side of the compound because there isn’t anyone to be seen, that is until we open the door to go inside. The place is fuckin’ huge. It is going to take us forever to find her. Women scatter and scream as we storm in, then shots are fired, coming from one of Flores’s men. Premo is the one to take him down then the next that follows. I get the next two as Gin comes in getting the fourth.
More shrieks from the women as they scatter from the open room we have walked into. I rush to grab one, in the hope she can lead us to where Kimi might be. “No. No. No please. Please,” she pleads and cowers in my grip as I try to hold her still enough to ask her where my girl is.
“Kimi. Where is she?” I question, getting right up to her ear so she can hear me through the screams. She is still for a moment then starts saying no again.
“She doesn’t speak English,” Gin grumbles. “Kimi. Where the fuck is she? Flores?” he tries, but she only cries louder. “Leave her. We’ll find your woman.” I let her go and she stumbles twice before getting to her feet and running from the room. Shit.
“C’mon,” Premo calls out as he makes his way through the room and to a door. He pushes it open slightly to see on the other side before crossing the threshold. We fall in behind the man, killing whoever shoots in our direction until a shrill scream sounds out stopping me in my tracks. Kimi. Has to fuckin’ be.
“Came from outside. Shit,” Gin barks out and we all turn to go back the way we came, stepping over the bodies we put to ground.
I have to dial back the urge to burst through the doors and go flying head first into the firefight. Don’t need to fuck up again. Her screaming gets louder as we get closer and go through the door back outside, walking into a good old-fashioned Mexican standoff. Guns are drawn and breathing is heavy. Across from us, not ten yards away, Flores is holding Kimi by the hair as she struggles to get away. To the right of him is Sans. Deadman fucking walking.
“Got you surrounded Flores.” Rock’s voice rings out over the crowd. “Let the girl go. We’ll take that rat bastard of a traitor you got, too,” he demands, referring to Sans who raises his gun a little higher. I can tell the moment Gin catches sight of him. His pace quickens right up to my side, clutching his pistol so tight, his knuckles turn stark white.
“That fucker is mine,” he says under his breath, steadying his weapon.
“You can go fuck yourself, President. Shoot me, but she is going to die, too,” Flores says, now turning his gun upward toward Kimi’s throat, making me tighten my grip. I take a step forward locking eyes with her. She’s terrified. She mouths something I can’t quite make out, then her elbow jabs into Flores’s chest. When the gun in his hands goes off so does mine. I see fuckin’ red. Red spraying everywhere. Charging in, sending each of my bullets from my clip right into his chest. Pop. Pop. Pop.
Flores clutches at his chest, going down, slamming to his knees before he finally face-plants into the sandy ground. But he isn’t who I’m worried about. The only person who has my attention is the woman covered in blood laying stone-cold still on the ground.
My knees slam down at her side, hands not wanting to move forward and touch her in fear I may cause more pain. “Key,” I rasp out gently pulling her hair from her face and nudging her shoulder to roll her from her stomach. Please don’t be fuckin’ hit. Please don’t be fuckin’ hit. I chant over and over in my head until I’m looking down at her face. What I come face to face with will forever haunt me.
Blood.
Blood covering the whole side of her face. Assessing her, I find it’s coming from an extended cut that slides along her cheek. The bullet must have grazed her. “Key. Wake up baby,” I say ,raising my voice to the point of pain. “Key!”
Forty-Five
Kimi
My body is stiff and when I swallow I can feel the pull of something on my face. Is that tape? Slight panic runs through me. My eyes shoot open and dart around the unfamiliar room. Not the room I was in before though. That I can be thankful for.
Slowly pulling myself to a sitting position, I realize I’m not alone in the bed when someone shifts at my side. Taking a deep breath, I look over, readying myself for who I’m about to see. Relief washes over me when Jake comes into view, laying on the bed, half-covered in a sheet exposing his naked chest and the bandages covering wounds that have started to seep blood through the dressings. I’m torn between letting him sleep and wanting to find out what happened to him. Was he shot, stabbed?
I remember Jake standing there in the compound, pointing his gun at the man I found out was Flores. I had been laying on the bed for what seemed like days until I heard a commotion from outside the door. Before I could even take my next breath, Brock was storming into the room to untie me. “You need to get the fuck out of here. They are on their way up here to get you,” I remember him saying. I didn’t get a chance to ask him who was coming to get me, Sans had already come through the door.
“The fuck you doing, Brock?” he questioned him. “You know, I had a feeling you weren't with us,” he said, before pulling out his gun. Sans shot him twice before Brock could get the gun I saw at his hip. Sans grabbed me from the bed and dragged me from the room. I had no idea if he was still alive or not. That was when I was brought outside to Flores, then shortly after that Jake showed up, aiming a gun at the man who held me at gunpoint.
My decision to wake Jake up is taken away when someone comes walking through the door of the room. He is an older man with a short gray beard and a shaved head. It takes him a moment to maneuver in through the door because he is leaning on a cane, but when he does he looks up to see me staring at him, eyes wide. “Hello, sugar. Sleep well?” He hobbles over to a table I’m now noticing is filled with medical supplies. He goes for the gauze then grabs some dressing tape, going to Jake’s side of the bed. “You got yourself a nasty cut there from a bullet graze. Stitched it as best as I could but I’m afraid these shaky old hands of mine may have left you a sizable scar. I used to be good bac
k in my day, but a stroke and a peg leg will slow a man down.” He rambles on as he rolls a chair to the side of the bed. “VP. Wake up. Need to change your dressing,” he says in a louder voice, making Jake jerk in his sleep then slowly blink open his eyes. They look over at the man in the room then dart around until finally landing on me. He visibly relaxes in his search, then takes me in. Reaching out, he touches my hand to make sure I’m really there and not a dream.
“Damn it, Key. So fuckin’ sorry.”
“I’m fine,” I say with a reassuring smile suddenly realizing I’m missing someone. “Ari. Jake, where is she?”
“She’s in the hospital. Ellie is with her,” he explains. My heart drops.
“In the hospital? Is she okay?”
“In an induced coma. Busted up leg,” he says as tears form in my eyes.
“I shouldn’t have let her leave. I’m so sorry, Jake. She was just so adamant.”
“This is all on me, Keems.” Sam’s voice comes into the conversation and room. “Those assholes jumped me. I should have been more careful.” He walks into the room hanging his head in defeat. “Sorry, Keems.”
“Shut up, fucker,” Jake grumbles, wincing as the man starts to pull off the second bandage. “Shit, Doc,” he grits out.
“That is what you get boy. Now sit still so I can patch this back up. You ripped a stitch playing cowboy.” Doc grumbles, getting to his feet and walking back over to the table full of supplies.