“You sure you want to know?” he asked. “I don't want to pull you in any deeper than you already are.”
“That's right, I'm already in pretty deep,” I said. “What's a few more feet?”
Damian ran a hand over his face, the stubble on his jaw making a dry, scratchy sound. He finally sighed as if he'd come to a decision in his own mind – a decision he didn't particularly like.
“I don't even know if I'm right – Crank thinks I'm being paranoid...”
“But... ?” I asked.
“But I think Mills, my MC's president was lookin' to have me killed the night I got shot.”
I stared at him, dumbfounded. I knew nothing about motorcycle club politics or the relationships within, but I'd always assumed that the men in a gang like that were tight. I'd always heard they were like brothers. Family.
“Why would he do that?” I asked. “I mean, aren't you guys supposed to be like blood brothers or something?”
His laugh was dry and forced. “Yeah, that's what people tend to think. Honor among thieves and all that shit, right?”
I shrugged. “I can't pretend to know about the inner workings of a motorcycle gang.”
He smiled at me. “We're a club, first of all. Gangs are those shitheads that run around shooting up innocent people and all that. We don't do that.”
“Okay, club. I stand corrected. Sorry.”
“And like any social group, there are always gonna be factions and cliques,” he said. “Mills and I don't see eye to eye on a lot of shit. He's got his backers, and I've got mine. He doesn't get to decide what business the club gets into all on his own. It's not a unilateral decision. And that pisses him off.”
I shook my head and offered him a weak smile. I was getting quite the education about motorcycle clubs. Not that I had ever particularly wanted it, but there was some part of me that found it fascinating. Sort of like discovering a new species of animal or an alien life form. I'd dealt with some really unsavory people in my life – mostly thanks to my mother – but this was so foreign from anything I'd ever experienced before.
“I guess I'd always thought the leader of your gan – club – made all the decisions.”
He shook his head. “Nope. We're a democracy, believe it or not. All big things come up for a vote among the members.”
“Huh. Interesting. But why do you think he'd want to have you killed? I mean, that sounds pretty extreme.”
“It's just a feeling and nothing I can prove. At least, not yet,” he replied. “I just got the idea that he's looking to… expand the business the Kings are in. The Fantasmas are in the way of that, and having somebody in our leadership killed might pave the way for a war and opening up new business opportunities.”
I leaned back against the counter and thought about what he said. On the surface, it made sense. But it also sounded like something more out of fiction than fact.
“It almost sounds like the plot of a movie or a TV show or something,” I said.
He nodded. “That was sort of the impression Crank gave me of what he thought about it too.”
Damian looked down at the ground, almost as if he were upset that I didn't believe him. But the truth of the matter was that I didn't know enough to believe or not believe. I had zero clue about things like that. And I'd worked hard to build my life in a way that I wouldn't.
And yet, like a gravitational pull I couldn't escape, I felt like I was being drawn right into the middle of it all. Still, it wasn't all Damian's fault. Truth be told, it wasn't his fault at all. He hadn't asked to be shot. He hadn't planned on being wheeled into my hospital – or anything that came after. As much as I wanted to blame him, be angry with him, and lash out at him, I couldn't.
It was nothing more than a series of unplanned and unfortunate events.
I looked at him and could see him isolating himself. Building up the walls around himself. I knew he was drawing inward, feeling like he was alone and that nobody would listen to him. I had the feeling that he was thinking it was just him against the world. And I worried what he might do if backed into a corner like that – or more specifically, what would happen to him.
“Hey,” I said. “Just because I'm ignorant about all of these things doesn't mean it's not true. You very well may be right. But you probably need to get a little proof first. Something you can take to your club. Then, you can make people listen.”
He nodded and his face brightened – slightly. “I know. You're right. I just don't know how to go about getting that proof yet.”
“We'll figure it out. We're going to get you clear of all of this. Both of us.”
I immediately regretted my words and wished I could take them back. But Damian looked at me with something like hope in his eyes, and I knew that I couldn't. Despite who he was, I couldn't abandon him. I couldn't simply leave him to his fate on his own. Against my better judgment, I'd taken him into my home and promised to care for him. And because of that, I felt responsible for him.
“Hey.” I shrugged. “You saved my life. I kind of feel like I owe you one.”
He gave me a small smile. “You owe me nothing, Cara.”
He was right, I didn't. But I just felt like I did. He'd come for me when he didn't have to. It's not like we had a relationship or I was anything to him other than some chick he used to want to screw back in high school. But he'd put himself in danger. For me. He'd gotten me home to my little boy when he didn't have to.
“Maybe not,” I said. “But I'm not going to let you do this alone.”
“Could be dangerous.”
I shrugged again. “You can take the bullets if it comes to that. You're apparently impossible to kill anyway.”
“I'll do that,” he said and smiled. “Hopefully, it doesn't come to that though.”
“Here's hoping. I don't want you living on my couch forever.”
We shared a laugh and then a moment of awkward silence descended between us. He looked up at me as if a thought had suddenly occurred to him.
“Hey, do any of your neighbors drive a black Escalade?”
I thought about it a moment and then nodded. “Yeah, I think the guy a few doors down drives one. Why?”
He gave me another sheepish grin. “No reason. Just being a little paranoid again, apparently.”
We laughed it off, but I couldn't stop that small worm of paranoia from crawling into my own mind. What if Mendoza and his guys had figured out who I was and where I lived?
Chapter Seventeen
Cara
It was an unusually busy day at the hospital. Thankfully though, nothing major. We had a lot of scrapes and bruises, a few broken bones, and a couple of cases of the flu come through the ER doors. We were hustling and bustling all day, but it wasn't anything we couldn't handle. We walked into the lounge, cups of coffee in hand.
“I'm beat,” Janice said as she dropped into a chair.
“I hear you,” I replied as I sat down in the chair across the table from her. “It's been a busy one. My feet are killing me.”
“Yeah, I can't wait to get home, get into a warm bath, and just soak for a while.”
“Oh? No hot date tonight?”
Julia laughed. “Not tonight. The good doctor is out of town at a conference.”
I nodded. “That's right. I forgot about that.”
She sighed. “Yup. It's just me, a bottle of wine, and Netflix for the next few days.”
I took a sip of my coffee. “How are you ever going to survive?”
She shrugged. “God only knows. Still, I love being with him. Though in all honesty, a night on my own now and again is nice too.”
“I hear you,” I replied.
I'd been on my own so long that I'd had more nights of me, a bottle of wine, and Netflix than I could count. Even though nothing was going on, I had to admit that having Damian around was sort of… nice. It was nice to be able to converse with another adult. I loved my boy more than anything in the universe, but it was tough to hold a discussio
n about the things that genuinely interested me with a five-year-old.
“So, you heard that guy you know bolted out of here last night, right?”
I looked at her and felt a small surge of adrenaline – I knew who she was talking about.
“What guy?” I asked, trying to play it off.
“Mr. Multiple Gunshot Wounds?” She smiled. “The hot dude in leather?”
I laughed. “He's not that hot.”
Julia looked at me with an arched eyebrow. “You trying to convince me or yourself?”
“Neither,” I said. “Anyway, yeah he bolted?”
She looked at me for a long moment, the smirk still on her face. “Yeah, in the middle of the night. Shortly after you got off shift, interestingly enough.”
I took a sip of my coffee before speaking, trying to get the nervousness out of my voice. “What, so you think I kidnapped him or something?”
She laughed. “No, I just thought the timing was interesting. Sort of wondered if maybe you'd snuck off for a little heavy petting session with the outlaw.”
That made me laugh, and it was all I could do to avoid spitting my coffee out all over her – Julia was a lot closer to the mark than she even realized. Damian was hot, I wasn't going to deny it. But he was bad for me. I knew he was bad for me. And that point had only been driven home even further when I'd walked in on him and his biker buddy in my living room. I didn't want or need that element in my life and around my son.
“And lest we forget,” Julia went on, “that man was very, very into you.”
“Be that as it may, I have no interest in him.”
Julia looked at me. She was one of my closest friends, and she wasn't an idiot. She knew me better than anybody, and worst of all – at least, for me, at that moment – she could read me like a book. I had never been a very good liar, and I feared it was coming back to bite me.
She arched her eyebrow and looked around the lounge as if making sure we were alone. We were. Which meant she was free to question me without fear of being overheard – which obviously, was not good for me.
“No interest, huh?” she asked.
I shook my head and cleared my throat. “None.”
“Then why are you blushing?”
The fact that small snippets of the night before were running through my head on an endless, erotic loop was probably the reason, but I couldn't tell her that.
“I'm not blushing,” I said quickly, feeling the heat in my cheeks. “It's warm in here.”
She laughed and clapped her hands. “You totally did him. I can see it in your face.”
“Jules, keep your voice down,” I hissed.
My cheeks were burning so hot, I thought I might actually see smoke or flames. The smile on Julia's face was stretched ear to ear, and I had to look away. I knew she'd see the guilt on my face from a mile off – though, it already seemed like she'd seen more than enough of it.
“Why didn't you tell me?” she asked, pitching her voice low.
“There's nothing to tell.”
I didn't like lying to her, but I felt like I was backed into a corner and had no choice. But then, Jules was my friend. One of my closest – I should be able to confide in her right? My mind told me that yes, I could, but something in my gut told me I shouldn't. That little voice in the back of my head – paranoia, maybe – said it was better she didn't know. Safer.
I had no illusions about who Damian was or the things he did. I knew the crowd he ran with – and I'd gotten to know the people who hated him. Drawing Julia into this fiasco could get her hurt. Or worse. And what was I going to do if it was Julia wheeled into the ER with four bullet holes in her? How would I feel about that?
Terrible didn't even begin to cover it.
“Cara, how long have we known each other?”
“A while now,” I said. “Years.”
“Uh huh,” she pressed. “And I know when you're lying. You suck at it. So, come on, spill.”
I sighed and took a sip of coffee – mostly just to buy myself a little bit of time. I was still at war in my head. Do I tell her and pull her deep into this mess? Or do I keep her safe by refusing to talk about it?
“I'm going to keep bugging you about it until you give me all the juicy details,” Julia said and laughed. “So, you might as well save yourself some time and trouble and tell me now.”
The smile on my face felt rueful. Grim. But I knew I had to tell her something.
“Jules,” I said slowly. “Honestly, the less you know is probably better. It's probably safer.”
She cocked her head and looked at me, an expression of concern spreading across her face. I didn't want to alarm her or make her worry about me, but I also didn't think it was a good idea that she gets involved in this mess.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
I shook my head. “I–I think I accidentally got involved in something – something bad,” I said. “And I don't know how to get out of it. The last thing I want to do is pull you into it and put you at risk.”
“Hey, you're not putting me at risk, hon,” she said, her voice soft.
I nodded. “These people are… bad. They're bad people. Dangerous. They're capable of anything.”
Julia reached across the table and took my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Looking up, I found her giving me a reassuring smile.
“Honey, I'm a big girl. If I—”
I shook my head, looking at her earnestly. “You don't understand, Jules. These people are killers. Like real, cold-blooded killers.”
She squeezed my hand again. “You're my best friend, hon. And I'm not going to let you go through this alone.”
“Jules, I—”
She shook her head. “No. I'm aware of the risks. And you obviously need somebody to talk to. Somebody who can maybe help you think your way through this. Because hon, I can tell that you're frazzled and at your wit's end here.”
I let out a long breath and gave her a small smile. She was right. I thought I'd done a pretty remarkable job holding myself together through all of this, but deep down, below the surface, I was an absolute wreck. If I were being honest, I really could use a sounding board. Somebody with unbiased eyes who could help me navigate my way through this mess.
But… I didn't want her getting caught up in this and getting hurt as a result of it.
“I can see your brain working, hon,” she said. “And I know you're worried about me. But this sounds like something really serious. I know the risks, okay? And I'm not going to let you deal with it on your own. So, tell me.”
I sighed again and looked at her. She wasn't going to let me off the hook – I was afraid for her, but I loved her for it. Giving her hand a squeeze, I told her everything that had happened – from being kidnapped to Damian rescuing me to… everything that had happened with him afterward. I left nothing out, and she didn't interrupt me once. She simply sat there with eyes that were wider than normal and a dumbfounded look on her face.
“So, that's why he bailed?” she asked. “To come rescue you?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“What about the two guys who showed up to kill him? What happened to them?”
I shook my head. “I don't know. I assume the cops picked them up. I know that a few of them got away, but I don't know all the details.”
She whistled low. “Wow, when you get yourself into a mess, you go big.”
I laughed and gave her a genuine smile. “Yeah, it would appear that way.”
Her expression grew serious. “You know you need to go to the police, right?”
“I can't, Jules. Damian is probably already in enough trouble with the cops. I don't want to jam him up any more than he already is.”
“Yeah, but—”
I shook my head again. “I can't do that to him, Jules. He saved my life.”
She sat back in her seat, picking at a napkin on the table in front of her, but nodded. “I get that, hon, but if you think these guys are that dangerous – and
might be coming after you – then you need some protection. The cops might be able to stop them before they even get anywhere near you.”
“He saved my life, Jules.”
She sighed and continued tearing strips off the napkin in front of her. She finally looked up at me, and I could see the concern in her eyes as clear as day.
“So, what are you going to do?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Not sure yet. I thought I'd see what Damian thought before I decided on anything.”
PREGNANT FOR A PRICE: Kings of Chaos MC Page 11