Page 17 of Karma (Deranged Drifters MC #23)
Chapter Seventeen
Griffin’s Beach Lex
L ex finds the strength to move, and she uses that strength to cover one eye as she stares at two Zanes standing above her. “What are you doing here?”
“I followed Undertaker,” Zane says, his eyes wide. “Holy fuck, Lex. Why is this guy so pissed at you?”
Swallowing the vomit rising in her throat, she closes her eyes as the ache in her head becomes unbearable. It feels like someone tries to pull her brain out through her eye sockets but forgot to take her eyeballs out first. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you follow Undertaker?”
“I was heading to my old house because of these weird notes I’d been getting, and I saw Undertaker driving like a bat out of hell with no one with him. I thought maybe he needed some help. Who the fuck is that guy?”
Notes. He found Zane, and wanted to kill him here like me.
Zane reaches out a hand to help her stand when she opens her eyes, and as much as she wants to refuse it and push it away, there is no way she can get up on her own.
She staggers, and he gently reaches for her hips to help steady her as they walk towards Phillip’s car.
No longer able to stand, she falls to her knees.
“That would be our big brother.”
“What did you just say?” he asks. “We have a brother?”
Clearing her throat, Lex fights the vomit rising in her throat. “VP had a kid before you. He’s the real De-Identifier. There’s a whole thing with skinning a cat at four. I have to throw up.”
Her eyes land on the gun on the ground under the car as she empties the contents of her stomach. It’s mostly bile, and it burns as well as tastes terribly.
Zane holds her hair back, and she tries to push him away. The last thing she wants is his help, but she has no strength left in her. She resigns to let him assist her.
“Lex!” Undertaker shouts and runs over. “Are you okay? Holy shit.”
Falling back, she leans against the wheel of the car. “I have a concussion. Broken ribs. Probably more.”
“Can you ride?”
“That’s a negative. I don’t think I can sit up unassisted,” Lex says and swallows.
“He brought you to my old house?” Zane asks. “Why? Is he the one who sent me those creepy notes?”
“Long story,” she mumbles. “But yes. We were all going to die here. Together, apparently. I feel drunk in the worst way.”
“She’s slurring,” Undertaker says. “This is bad. He threw her in the trunk of the car.”
Walking around to the back, Zane opens it and shakes his head. “He broke the emergency release latch. But she did kick out a taillight. That was smart. Wait, am I reading this right? Does his license plate say Fun-Ash-One?”
“F-U-Nash-One,” Undertaker says. “He fucking hates your father so much he tortures and mutilates people who look like you and your sister. The three of you together would have made seventy victims.”
Lex holds a hand up. “No, it’s more. Those are just the ones who turn him on, apparently.”
“Me? He hates me?” Zane asks. “I don’t even fucking know him.”
“You’re the child VP loves,” Undertaker says.
Leaning her head back, Lex looks confused. “How’d my double vision clear up?”
“Your eye is swollen shut, sweetheart,” he says. “I think he might’ve cracked your cheekbone, too.”
“Yeah, I remember that. That hurt. And you do know him, Zane. When you were little.”
“What?” Zane asks.
“Let’s worry about that later,” Undertaker says and kneels down. “How much do you hurt now?”
Assessing her injuries, she winces when she sighs.
“Um, I feel sicker than I ache, but I think that’s because I’m pretty sure my head is about to explode.
The rest will come later, though. He said we weren’t going to die out here.
I’m assuming that means the shop because the house doesn’t look very steady. ”
“Let’s check out the house,” Undertaker says. “We’ll be back.”
“No way, José. I’m not staying alone with him. I’m going with you.”
Zane chuckles as Undertaker lifts her into his arms. “She’s not going anywhere on her own, that’s for sure.”
Lex’s head falls against his shoulder, and if she wasn’t in desperate need of a hospital, she’d make an inappropriate joke about how she always knew he’d rock her in his arms. All she needs is a bedtime story, and her fantasy is complete.
“Get her away!” Zane shouts as he leaps from the house he just stepped into.
He pushes them, and she finds herself underneath the largest man she’s ever met, her body cracking and crushing under his weight as a loud explosion nearly bursts her eardrums.
Undertaker covers her head, as pieces of the house land around them. He climbs off her and looks at his hands in concern. “Lex, you’re bleeding.”
“I’m pretty sure there’s more of me bleeding than not. I think I figured out how he planned to kill Zane after he went out with me. Kaboom.”
“Is he dead?” Zane asks, his voice suddenly stern and venomous.
Undertaker shakes his head. “He doesn’t get off that easy.”
“That’s not the way he planned to get off. Ba-dum-bum-ching,” Lex says.
“I’ll leave my bike here and drive the car with Lex in it. Put him in the trunk like he did her,” Zane says.
Groaning as Undertaker lifts her off the ground, Lex doesn’t try to fight or help when he slides her onto the backseat. “Keep those eyes open, babe, okay? Zane, keep her talking in the car.”
“How far away are we from the clubhouse?” she asks.
“About twenty minutes if I floor it. Why?”
“We need to drop him off, but I’m going to say something I rarely, if ever say. I need to go to the hospital.”
Both men share a look that amuses her. If it wouldn’t hurt like a bitch, she’d laugh. There’s a solid chance she has more broken bones thanks to the explosion and doggy pile with a man as large as a bus.
“We can drop you off before we go to the clubhouse,” Zane says.
“No,” she says and swallows. “You’ll be lucky not to get pulled over with the kicked-out taillight. Plus, he might wake up. He gets off on the pain, so it’s safer for everyone if we bring him to the clubhouse. I’ll make it for forty more minutes, I think.”
T he car comes to a stop, and Lex opens her only working eyelid to see everyone from each charter swarm from the clubhouse, guns aimed. Zane steps out with his hands raised, and Undertaker pulls up the rear.
“Motherfucker’s in the trunk, and Lex needs a hospital. Bad,” Undertaker shouts.
“Alexis,” Phillip hisses from the other side of the seat. “Guess what?”
Panic fills her, and she begins to kick at the back door when she can’t twist her body to open it herself. A knife stabs through the seat, and she screams as the blade slices into her side.
“Lex?” Undertaker calls as he yanks open the door so hard it pulls off the hinges.
She tries to shift away, and she falls onto the floor, crying out in pain as she lands on her injured ribs. She can’t breathe.
“Motherfucker!” Zane shouts and pops open the trunk.
She can’t see what he’s doing, but Psycho runs over to help, and she hears bones breaking. Good.
“He fucking stabbed her through the seat!” Undertaker shouts as he does his best to pull her off the floor as gently as possible. “Jesus, Lex, you’re bleeding a lot.”
“Can’t. Breathe,” Lex manages to get out.
“I think he punctured a lung!” he shouts, and she winces as the sun blinds her. “She needs a hospital. Now!”
Yeah, going to the clubhouse first was a dumb idea.
Psycho and Venom drag a fighting Phillip into the clubhouse, and she’d smile if everything didn’t ache as her body screams for oxygen.
“What do we tell them?” VP asks.
“Who fucking cares?” Snake shouts, surprising her. “You’re going to be okay, Lex. We’re getting you help. Here’s the car now.”
“Lex?” Colt asks, but his voice begins to fade away. “Baby, keep looking at me.”
“Mom?” Lucas asks, his voice shaking.
Poor kid sounds miserable with that cold.
She’s set in the backseat of someone’s car, and she reaches a hand out to Lucas. He sits with her, cradling her head in his lap, and he whispers apologies to her.
Lex wants to respond, but it’s harder and harder to breathe, let alone keep her unswollen eye open. Everything feels heavy, and she struggles to fight the darkness.
“Mom? Please stay awake,” Lucas says, and his tears hit her face. “We’re almost there.”
A groan comes from her as he presses on the knife wound, trying to stop her bleeding. He knows what to do, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.
“Baby, stay awake for me,” Colt calls from the driver’s seat. “Don’t go to sleep on us. Not until we’re at the hospital.”
“Can’t. Breathe.”
“Dad, she can’t breathe,” Lucas says, his voice alarmed.
His fear feels like another knife plunging into her, and she wishes she could console him.
Instead of consoling him, she moans when she bumps the seat as Colt hits the gas.
Every little jolt feels excruciating, and she keeps squeezing Lucas’s hand to focus on something else. The one thing she can actually do.
“Her lung’s probably punctured. We’re almost there, baby.”
“Her lips are turning blue. Hurry, Dad! Hurry!”
Her fingers turn cold, and the numbness sets in. She can barely feel Lucas’s hand in hers anymore, and while she’ll welcome the break from the pain, she knows it’s a bad sign. It means there’s bleeding. Lots and lots of bleeding.
“Mom, keep squeezing my hand,” Lucas begs as more tears hit her face. “Please, squeeze my hand. You’re going to be okay.”
I’m trying, baby. I’m trying. As much as she wants to speak, she has no energy. Her chest aches, her sides feel like she’s being stabbed repeatedly with every small breath she manages, and her head throbs like someone inflates it with air. To top it off, she’s dizzy, and she feels nauseous.
“I need a doctor!” Colt shouts. “My wife is badly injured. She was beaten and stabbed. She can’t breathe!”
Way to get the cops called, baby.
“Oh, Jesus, Alexis,” a familiar voice says.
At least it’s Dr. West.
She’s pulled from the car, painfully, and Dr. West’s expression tells her just how rough of shape she’s in.
“I told you we need to stop meeting like this. Especially when it’s you on my table. Now, your husband can and will kill me, so I need you to do me a big favor. I need you to stay alive, okay?”
“Can’t. Breathe.”
“I need oxygen!” he shouts. “Colt, I’m going to do everything I can.”
Worry fills Colt’s face as he runs beside her on the gurney. “You stay with me, baby. You hear me? You are not allowed to die on me.”
Relax, baby. He’s the best. And it’s not like we haven’t been here before.
“Lex, can you follow my finger?” Dr. West asks as a mask covers her nose and mouth.
She wants to. She really does, but the darkness wins out, and she can’t fight it any longer. Everything quickly turns black, and Dr. West waving his finger in front of her is the last thing she sees before she’s out. Blissfully out.