by Evie Monroe
Chapter Twenty-One
Nora
Something jerked me awake just as I was dozing off. I’d fallen asleep on the sofa, clutching the old photo album to my chest.
When I got up and cocked my ear, I heard police sirens. More than one of them. I looked toward the ceiling where a helicopter’s blades whirred by overhead.
My first thought was something Michael had said. He’d told me before he’d proposed to me, back when I was considering moving up to Aveline Bay, that this city was safe. He’d said it had a bit of a gang problem, but so did every other town in California. So far, everything I’d seen had given me reason to believe Aveline Bay wasn’t much better than L.A.
And then I started to think of Jet.
When I’d left them, the Cobras were ready to set out on a rampage.
Instinct and intuition kicked in, and my heart jumped into my throat. I just knew those sirens had something to do with Jet.
I peeked out the window to the street but saw nothing. I flipped on the television, desperate for some news as to what was going on.
I stood in front of the television, flipping channels through mind-numbing, late-night sit-com reruns and infomercials until I came to a local news station. When I did, I knelt in front of the television, my fingers gripping the remote as a reporter stood on a dark corner that I couldn’t identify. Behind her, I spotted an old gas station.
The reporter said, “Witnesses heard several gunshots that woke them from their sleep. Some of them raced outside in time to catch the end of the harrowing incident.”
The screen then flashed to an interview with a woman on the street. The woman, obviously excited, said, “I ran outside in my pajamas in time to see some totally jacked guy running after some dude on a motorcycle. I kept my kids back in case he started shooting because he had a gun. Looked like a bad guy. Sure enough, he runs over to one of the cars in the lot and jacked it, then tore off after him. Motorcycle gangs are always messing around out here.”
I stiffened. Motorcycle gangs. A jacked guy. The woman could’ve been describing any one of the men I’d seen sitting around that table earlier. But something just told me that Jet was at the bottom of this.
The camera cut to the studio, where the co-anchor said, “We’re told police are in pursuit and hope to apprehend the alleged suspect shortly, but this is breaking news. Terror in South Aveline Bay. If you are in the area, you may want to stay inside and lock your doors. We’ll release more details as they come in.”
I flipped off the television and looked around helplessly. This was not good.
I ran upstairs and threw on leggings and a t-shirt. My fingers shook with a need to do something, but as I scuffed into a pair of sneakers, I realized there was very little I could do. What was I thinking? I couldn’t just rush off and join in on the chase.
The chase.
Oh, God. If Jet was involved in this chase, he could be killed. Gunned down, just like my father.
I stood there, frozen, and a sick sort of intuition dawned on me. I’d had it the night my father died, and I felt it even more strongly now.
Jet was in trouble. I knew it like I knew my own name. He needed help. I couldn’t sit by idly while his life was on the line.
I reached for the doorknob, and it came to me. If this really was war between two motorcycle clubs, there was something I could do. Maybe I couldn’t fight alongside them, but I could use my talents to help. If the Cobras were in battle, any casualties would go back to their clubhouse on the pier. If he got out of this alive, Jet would go back there.
And that was where I was going to make sure I was, when—and if—Jet came back.
I took a deep breath, grabbed my phone, and ran out the door toward the hospital.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jetson
“Well, this fucking sucks,” I muttered, pressing on the gas in the piece of shit car I’d boosted. The junk hesitated before puttering ahead, no matter how hard I gunned it.
I tilted the rearview mirror and rolled my eyes. Two police cars were on my tail now, and . . . look, a third, joining in on the chase.
Fuck me hard.
As I banked a turn, heading for the center of town, I caught sight of two cycles waiting at a side street. Drake and Hart. I powered down the window and stuck my hand out, but they were already pulling out to join in.
They’d get the police off my tail at least.
But shit. I didn’t know where this asshole was headed. If he was going to one of the odd clubhouses the Fury maintained, he sure had a fucked up way of getting there. It felt like we were racing in circles.
When we made a turn, I stuck my gun out the driver’s side window and fired. Missed.
My gun was out of ammo, and I wasn’t going to take the time to reload, so I threw it down on the seat. I’d have to try to outmaneuver the guy and get him to stop. Fat fucking chance in this worthless shitmobile.
By now, sirens were going off all over the place, and the whole fucking town of Aveline Bay had to be awake. The sights of the town whirred past in a blur as I floored the pedal, swerving around a car stopped at a red light and surging into an intersection just as a car’s horn began to blare. I swerved narrowly to miss it, but one of the police cars clipped it, sending it skidding off.
In my mirror, I saw the police car collide with another and come to a stop. Good.
The lights of the last remaining cop car cut through the haze, coming on strong. Behind him, I saw Drake and Hart on their bikes.
They’d take care of it for me. I’d been gaining speed on the flat, and now I was right on the guy’s bumper. Whoever he was, I could tell from his skinny back that he wasn’t one of the older Fury. And he didn’t have the skills on his bike like Nix or Cullen had. Probably a newb.
As I reached the next intersection, I saw a complication.
Two new police cars parked on the side streets, like they were waiting for me. Their lights started to flash and their sirens screamed as I tore past them.
Fuck.
As if echoing that feeling, the fucking car started to sputter. When I looked down at the gas gauge, I knew why.
Empty.
Shit. No wonder the job of finding cars went to Nix or the other guys. I’d never had much luck at picking them.
Thinking quick before the police could pick up speed, I banked a turn into a narrow alley, cut the lights, and cruised to a stop.
I waited for a second, watching in the rearview mirror as the police cars zoomed past, ignoring me.
I reached over into the passenger’s seat, found my gun, and pulled another magazine from my vest. I pressed in a call on speaker to Drake as I reloaded. “Where are you? You just disappear into thin air?”
“No,” I said, climbing from the car and stealing down along the narrow alley. “Ran out of gas. You still in pursuit?”
“No. We fucking lost him,” Drake growled. “And those cops started to get on us so we had to lose them.”
“I know,” I muttered, creeping along the alley. This was the industrial part of town; old abandoned factories towered on either side of me. I hurried to the end of the buildings and looked out onto an abandoned parking lot strewn with garbage. No sign of life. I couldn’t even hear the goddamn sirens from here. “Shit!”
“What’s the deal?” Drake asked. “Nix said the Fury caught you dumping Slade’s body?”
“Not all of them. Just this one pecker. That’s why we really need to cut him down,” I said, running through the parking lot.
“Looks like we’re shit outta luck with that one. Kid just disappeared.”
“Disappeared? What is he, fucking Houdini? He was just a little guy. Couldn’t shoot or ride a bike for shit. I’ll be damned if a little fucker like that got the best of us. He’s out there. The other guys are still looking, right?”
“Yeah. They’re looking. But it’s a big town.”
I groaned as I went around a corner and saw more and more of the same shit—crumbling bric
k factory walls and rusty old fences. “Look. I gotta go see Nora. I need to talk to her.”
He laughed, long and hard. “Seriously?”
I knew he’d be giving me all kinds of shit about this later. “Yeah. I’m in the old canning area of the Bay. You know where that is? Want to come and pick me up? I don’t really feel like boosting another car.”
“Yeah. I’ll be there.”
I came to a chain-link fence, considered taking a running start to scale the top of it. My side was burning like a bonfire from the racing around I’d been doing. I’d been ignoring it but now it seized on me as if to say, there was no way I’d be going over that fence. I crept along the length of it until I found a hole torn away. An opening just big enough for my sorry ass. I stepped through carefully and grabbed one side of the fence to steady myself, and a piece of metal caught on my hand, slicing it as my phone slipped from my grip. “Fuck!”
I looked at my hand. It was torn open; blood pooled in my palm and slipped down to my jeans. Fucking great. Then I looked down at the ground, at my phone there, on the asphalt, face down.
I scrambled for it, lifted it and blew out my breath through my teeth. The screen was black, a spider-web crack over the display. I touched the surface. Nothing happened.
“Great. Well, nice talking to you, Drake,” I murmured, crawling the rest of the way through the fence and scrambling as best I could, my lungs on fire now as I headed for the street and pocketed my broken phone. This area was a fucking ghost town. I had no clue where the fuck I was. All I knew was the sirens were gone, I had no way of getting in touch with anyone, and my hand was bleeding like a mother.
I tried to stop the bleeding with my other hand as I rushed across the street and around a bend, where I saw a streetlight on a wire swaying in the wind. It blinked from green to yellow to red without a single car anywhere nearby.
I headed aimlessly toward the light, figuring Drake would find me easier at the corner. Then I heard the sound of a racing motor. Far away, but coming closer. A motorcycle.
I turned my head toward the sound as it came into view.
The pecker.
As he rode by, leaning forward, he caught sight of me and tensed.
Fuck it. This was my chance. I ran across the street and found a Mazda parked at the curb. Open. I slipped inside the seat, wiped my bloody hand on my pants, pulled out the ignition, and wired it. It purred to life during my first try. I pressed on the gas, and the car tore off.
Hell, yes, much smoother ride than the Firebird. Fast and responsive. I might actually catch this prick now.
As I gunned it through the next red light, I saw Drake and Hart coming through on their bikes. They fell in line behind me, and the adrenaline boiled in me. I was ready to kick some Fury ass.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Nora
I took a deep breath as I walked toward the entrance to the hospital. It was after three in the morning, so while the parking lot was quiet and empty, every light in the place was on.
I walked in and nodded at a police officer still stationed in front of the doors. I flashed my ID, hoping he wouldn’t stop me.
He didn’t.
When I got inside, the nurses on call looked at me as if they’d seen a ghost. One of them jumped up. “Dr. Benson!”
I turned to her, trying to remain calm and pretend like this was just any other day. “Yes?”
She cupped her hands over her face. “We all heard about what happened.”
I blinked, trying to think what she was talking about. So much had happened in the past couple of days. It suddenly struck me; the last time I’d been here, I’d been attacked. “Oh. I’m fine.”
The other nurses came around the station and looked at my bruised eye. The youngest of them gasped. “Fine? You must’ve been so scared!”
“We’re all scared, now, too,” the other, an older, grandmotherly type said. “If those hooligans could get in when the police were outside guarding the place, there’s no telling what else they could do. I can tell you, the entire hospital is in an uproar. The commissioner came in and had a real talking to--”
“I’m sorry,” I said, stepping away from them. “I have somewhere to—”
“But Dr. Vaughn said you weren’t going to be in for the next few days?”
I bit my tongue. “He what?”
The younger nurse nodded. “He said that he’d checked on you, and due to the stressful circumstances you’d endured, you’d be taking the next few days off.”
Well, that made sense. “Oh. Yes. I came in because I . . .” I could barely think. All I could think of was Jet, needing me. “I forgot something. In the doctor’s lounge.”
“Oh,” the nurses said in unison.
“Yes, I left here so quickly yesterday that I completely forgot . . . it,” I said, tapping my head, still unable to think of what it was. I had my cell phone in my hand, and my purse. I pointed down the hall. “So I’ll just be getting it, and then I’ll be going.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” the older one asked me as I turned away from them. “I’m sure these halls must be creepy for you. You don’t want me to go with you?”
“Oh, no. No, no, no, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me,” I said, words pouring from my mouth as I continued to head down the hall.
The next time I looked back, they’d gone back to the station. I quickly went into the doctor’s lounge and grabbed the gym bag I’d left in the locker. Then I crossed the hall to the supply closet and filled it with everything I could think of—sterile bandages, scissors, tape, sutures, antiseptic, painkillers, and whatever else I could grab.
The bag bulged with the contents as I lifted it onto my shoulder and made my way toward the door. But as I walked into the hallway, tasting success, I suddenly stopped dead in my tracks.
Michael was standing there, looking at me. “What are you doing, Nora?”
I looked over my shoulder, then at my bag, and then at him. His eyes were on the bag. “I’m—”
“Nora. It’s one thing for you to end our relationship. For you to decide you want someone else. I thought what we had was strong, but I see that I’ve made a mistake. That’s my fault,” he said, the expression on his face morphing from sadness to disgust before my eyes. “And I was willing to keep it from the hospital what happened with the patient, because we’re only human, and we all make errors in judgment. I thought you’d learn the error of your ways. But . . . are you stealing supplies from the hospital?”
He reached for the bag, and I yanked it away. “Michael, I—”
“Who are you?” he spat out. “Who the hell are you, Nora? You’re not the woman I vouched for to have this position. I can’t in good conscience say I can trust your judgment anymore.”
He made another move for the bag, but I slipped past him. “I can’t do this with you now. I have to go.”
“To him, right? You’re going to help that thug, is that it?” The disgust practically dripped from his tongue.
I nodded. “I have to.”
I turned to leave and took precisely two steps as he said, “Nora. If you do. If you leave this hospital like this, consider your employment terminated.”
I froze. Whirled. “You can’t—”
“I can. No, I didn’t hire you, but the administration relied very heavily on my recommendation. And they will rely on my recommendation to terminate you if I’ve determined you’re not fit to hold the position. If you’re terminated, you won’t ever work as a surgeon again. You’ll be lucky to get a job as an orderly. Do you understand me?”
I sucked in a breath, thinking of all those late nights, studying. Of all those years at the operating table. All those exams. All those hoops I’d had to jump through.
And then I thought of my dad, bleeding to death because I didn’t know how to take care of him.
I needed to be there for Jet.
I nodded. “I understand. Goodbye, Michael,” I said.
I turned and headed out to the f
ront of the building. When I got there, I waved at the nurses. “See you soon,” I called to them both, making my escape.
I picked up my pace as I headed out the doors, into the cool morning air. Just when I thought I’d made a clean escape, someone called, “Doctor?”
I turned to see the police officer looking at me curiously. “Yes?”
He pointed to my sneakers. “You’re untied.”
I looked down. Sure enough, one shoelace was dragging on the ground. I let out a sigh of relief and stooped to tie it. “Thank you.”
Then I walked to the edge of the parking lot, where once I was free, I broke into a breathless run.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jetson
I rolled the window down and motioned for Drake to come along side me. I held up my busted phone and called out into the night at the top of my voice, “This guy doesn’t know where the fuck he’s going. He’s got to be lost. But he’s heading toward the bluffs. I know a short cut. I’m going to head him off. You guys stay on his tail.”
“Got it,” Drake shouted and dropped back.
The speedometer in the Mazda crept toward triple digits on the residential streets. We were getting to the swanky part of town, and once he reached the end of this road, there was nowhere to go but off a cliff into the Pacific.
I checked the men in my rearview. Drake and Hart were right on my tail, and Cullen came around a bend and joined them. No police in sight. We’ve got him, I muttered, backing off the Fury’s plate a little so I wouldn’t miss the turn.
When I found it, I veered off suddenly, jumping a curb and narrowly missing a streetlight. I corrected and surged ahead, skidding out on the next turn as I raced past massive mansions towering over the ocean.
As I reached the intersection, I saw him, heading straight at me. He turned his head slightly, toward me.
He saw me.
He might’ve thought he could’ve gotten around me, but I was determined not to blink first.