Page 34 of Heat (The Royal HArlots MC, Quebec City-Canada #1)

Chapter Thirty-Three

She knew beyond a doubt the best course of action was to get back to Montreal. The Royal Bastards would take care of Sayer. Getting him back to his brothers was the safest bet. “It’s the right decision.”

With the tracker destroyed and Todd and his brother hopefully in police custody, they had a head start. Climbing back into the truck, she checked on Sayer. He was out cold, and that alone made her stomach twist. Relief, sure, but also dread. If he had a concussion, if there was a bleed?—

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath.

She climbed back out, boots crunching over gravel as she made her way to the hitch. She couldn’t risk pulling the trailer, not with Sayer like this. It would slow her down. Every second mattered.

It didn’t take long to unhook it.

Back in the driver’s seat, she cast one more glance over her shoulder. Sayer hadn’t moved. Her grip tightened on the steering wheel as she fired up the engine.

She tapped the GPS screen and punched in: Closest hospital.

The system chirped to life, calculating a route. Without looking back again, Diamond pulled out of the lot, gravel spitting under the tires as she hit the gas pedal.

The hum of the engine filled the silence, but Diamond’s thoughts were louder. Every bump in the road made her flinch. She kept glancing at Sayer in the rearview mirror, willing him to stir, to groan, to curse her out for driving like a bat out of hell. Anything.

But he stayed still. Pale. Still breathing.

“You better not die on me,” she muttered, fingers flexing tighter on the wheel. “Not after all this. Not now.”

The GPS chirped another turn. Fifteen minutes. She hit the call button and waited for Teller to answer. His rough voice came across the overhead speakers. “Teller, it’s Diamond.”

“Diamond, how’s things going?”

“I need info on Sayer. He’s hurt and we’re on the way to the hospital now.”

Teller didn’t need specifics, not yet. “I’ll text you everything you’ll need. Where are you?”

“Not over the phone,” was all she said before hanging up on Teller. A minute later a text came through with Sayer’s information.

The highway blurred past—trees, signs, empty fields. Her mind kept replaying the moment he went down. The blood. The way he looked at her, like she was the only thing tethering him to the world.

She hadn’t been scared like that in a long time. She glanced back again. “Come on, Sayer. Hang on.”

The hospital came into view like a beacon—white lights, emergency bay glowing in the dark. Diamond didn’t slow down until the last second, tires squealing as she swung the truck into the emergency lane.

She slammed the truck into park, yanked the keys out, and jumped out.

“Help!” she shouted as she yanked the door open. “I need help! He’s unconscious … head trauma!”

The double doors burst open, and two nurses came rushing with a gurney. One of them climbed into the truck with her while the other asked questions Diamond barely registered.

“Name?”

“Sayer … Elliot Lavoie. There was a fight.”

“Any drugs, alcohol?”

“No.”

Together, they pulled him from the truck. He didn’t wake up. Her chest squeezed. As they wheeled him inside, one of the nurses looked back at her. “Are you coming?”

Diamond blinked. Her boots were still rooted to the pavement. Then she nodded and ran after them. When the swinging doors shut behind the gurney, cutting her off from Sayer, she turned and bolted for the bathroom.

She barely got the door open before her stomach twisted. Dropping to her knees, she held her hair back and threw up, gagging as everything inside her hit the toilet in one violent wave.

She stayed there for a beat, chest heaving, fingers braced on the cold porcelain.

Finally, she pushed up on shaky legs and made her way to the sink.

Her reflection was pale, eyes wide and bloodshot.

She turned on the faucet and rinsed her mouth, then snapped off a few paper towels and pressed them to her face, trying to cool the heat rising beneath her skin.

She stared at herself in the mirror, unflinching, quiet. Then she tossed the paper towels in the bin and walked out.

The urge to leave hit her the second she stepped into the sterile hallway. She wanted out. Out of the hospital. Out of this city. Away from everything that had just happened. But she wouldn’t leave Sayer. She couldn’t.

At the front desk, two cops were talking to the receptionist. Diamond caught the woman pointing in her direction.

Of course.

She sighed and met the officers halfway, pulling out her ID before they even asked. They wasted no time, rattling off questions—name, where she’d been, what happened, who did what, what was destroyed. She kept her answers clean and clipped. Basic facts. Just enough.

She told them about the attack. About Todd and his brother. About the call she made to local law enforcement to pick them up. No more, no less.

It was what she’d prepared for. Why she told Nova to wipe everything.

She knew this could happen. That it would happen.

When they finally stopped, one of the officers tucked away his notebook. “We’ll be in touch if we need anything else.”

Diamond exhaled, this time slower. Heavier. Of course they would.