Page 80 of Indie
“Really?” the ever-grinning Magnet chipped in. “I think I might have even seen you smile once last night.”
“Nah, you had too many pints, Magnet. Reap never smiles, not even when he’s thinking about wanking himself off over his prison mates,” Demon corrected, and the man with the dark red, cropped beard shot him a look that was darker still.
“Reap’s been in prison?” I asked Indie quietly, as I crouched down beside him to help him roll the tent up.
“Yeah. Got out on good behaviour coming up a year ago. Long story about what he went in for. Definitely one for anotherday. But put it this way, he still blames Demon for getting him put away, hence why we keep them apart as much as possible.”
“Was it Demon’s fault?”
“Yeah. Guess it was kinda.”
There were those questions again, the ones I didn’t really want an answer to. The ones where ignorance was bliss.
The ride home was quick. The formation breaking several times from what I could see in the mirrors as Indie led a furious pace. We had no one flanking us, just wet road on either side, and loads of spray and I didn’t know how Indie could even see. The wind had picked up by the time we’d been on the road for a few minutes, driving the rain hard into our faces and dampening the leather suits we wore. My fingers throbbed, my toes already starting with a cold tingle, and I watched the countryside fly past from the shelter of Indie’s back.
As we approached Newcastle, the line of bikes got smaller, riders peeling off to go their separate ways, until there were only the two of us left. We pulled into the pitted car park ofDog on the Tyne, the bike engines rattling noisily in the wet air. There were only two other vehicles, Tori’s car and Indie’s van. The bike lurched to the side, my stomach going with it, my arms tightening around Indie for that second or two that it felt we were going to tip over. His chest vibrated, a noise I could feel but not hear and he patted my hands gently, before wriggling free from my grasp.
“I hate that bit,” I muttered as I pulled my helmet off, a rush of cooler air and damp hitting my already cold face.
“You get used to it, Spuggy. You just need to be on that bike more.”
Demon and Ciara followed us into the pub, Indie pushing through the heavy double doors.
“Dad!” I heard him say from in front of me, and I stepped sideways to peer round him, catching a glimpse of Ste slumped at a bench seat next to the bar.
“I tried to get him upstairs,” Tori spluttered, panic clear in her voice. “But I can’t get him back on my feet by myself. He’s too heavy. And he’s just too tired to walk.”
Ste was grey, more grey than usual, his breath coming in shaky rasps, not quite a rattle.
“Don’t move him yet,” I instructed, reaching for his wrist, and pushing my fingers into the little indent just beyond the main tendon.
Indie and Demon muttered between themselves, a heavy, urgent drone of deep voices behind me.
“Shush. I need you all to be quiet while I take his pulse.”
The room dropped into silence, and I concentrated hard, eventually finding a weak, thready beat.
“Indie,” I looked up at him. “We need to phone an ambulance.”
“No!” Ste tried to sit up, his voice as weak as his pulse. “No ambulance. I’m just worn out. Just need an hour or two to sleep. Get me upstairs, boys.”
He pushed up from the bench seat, wobbling and falling back. I glanced at Indie, his face the same old stoic, and I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, wondering whether he knew what was really happening here.
“Come on, dad. Let’s get you on your feet,” Indie looked at Demon, tilting his head, and Demon moved to the other side of the Kings’ president.
Between them, they hoisted him carefully to his feet.
“Ciara. Pull that table away,” Demon instructed, and I watched the tall, brown-haired beauty with the scar drag the heavy pub table out of the way so that they didn’t have to manoeuvre around it.
“How bad is he?” she asked quietly as they slowly moved, step by step, guiding the dying man to the back of the pub.
I shook my head, not needing to say anything for her to understand.
“Shit.” she swiped her hand across her mouth. “It’s the first he’s seen him in months. I don’t think either of us expected him to look so poorly.”
“He’s had infection after infection. That won’t have helped. But none of this is nice to watch.”
“How do you do it?” She asked, the men disappearing down the long corridor through the door, Tori following close behind. “Look after people who are dying, I mean.”