Page 23

Emily to the Rescue

G rizz

The officer led me out of the cell and down the hall, but every time I had to stop at an intersection, he’d kick the back of my boot, forcing me to stumble. If he had just told me which way to turn, it wouldn’t have been a big deal. I would have said nothing, but he’d sealed his fate.

I was prepared for the next time he kicked my boot, and I exaggerated the stumble, looking over my shoulder at his name badge. Officer P. Franklin. I committed it to memory. When I was back in the clubhouse, I’d pay Cyph to look him up. Guaranteed, the fucker was taking bribes.

He made me stop in front of an office door.

There was a window, but I couldn’t lean forward to see what I was walking into.

It could have been anything, and with my hands cuffed behind my back, I was at a severe disadvantage.

The slice on my side was still bleeding.

My shirt stuck to my skin as the blood soaked through.

I sniffed and scrunched my nose, but when nothing hit my shirt collar, I decided everything was fine. I could still breathe.

The officer stood in front of me. “Take our survey and rate your stay here five stars.”

I said nothing, not wanting to release my inner violent thoughts.

I’d already pictured all the ways I was going to get revenge on this pompous asshole.

He’d tried to be a big man, but Officer Franklin was a pawn in Diego Lopez’s game against us.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him the weak always took the fall for the strong.

“Step in front of the door and turn around.”

I complied, still not able to see through the glass at what lay on the other side. He uncuffed me, and when the door opened, he placed both hands on my back, shoving me into the room.

“I’ll ignore that, but I expect the cameras to be off.

We have attorney-client privilege, officer,” a man said, sitting at the head of a table.

I would have pegged him for some sort of lumberjack with his bushy red beard.

Broad-shouldered, he looked like he could have bench-pressed a few of the smaller brothers and not even break a sweat.

The custom-fitted suit said it all–lawyer—but I didn’t know where he had come from.

It could have been Sabre, if he had made it back to the clubhouse since he hadn’t stepped outside, but in this place, it could have easily been the cartel.

There was a huff from behind me as the door closed, the lock loudly clicking into place as I picked up my head.

Each brother who’d been in the holding cell with me was sitting in an office chair around the table with a fresh expression of horror.

I must have looked bad to warrant that type of reaction.

“It looks worse than it is,” I said, trying to reassure them I wouldn’t die soon. I hadn’t forgotten that once I got back to the clubhouse, I was fucking my wife silly.

“Mr. Barnett, thank you for joining us. Take a seat.” He waited until I grabbed the remaining chair. “Now that you’re all here, I’m supposed to tell you, Mr. Hastings, to park the car in the yard when you go get more bleach.” He sat back in the chair with his hands linked over his stomach, waiting.

How said nothing, smiling widely as he waited for the rest of us to catch up, but we didn’t understand the clue like he did. The clock on the wall ticked each second as time seemed to stand still. I was too tired to think about anything else besides the gaping hole in my side.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Slate grumbled.

“I’m starving,” Count said, sliding down further into his chair.

“I’m too pretty for jail, so one of you motherfuckers needs to explain what’s going on.” Pretty leaned his elbows on the table and framed his face, batting his non-existent eyelashes.

How shook his head as he pinched his nose. “Eric!” he said, in his posh accent, two octaves higher. I figured it worked when no one looked confused. Whomever the lawyer was, he was a gift from Emily.

“Now that we’re all on the same page, I’m Duncan Douglas.”

“Double D,” Pretty laughed.

The lawyer ignored him and continued. “You’ve already paid your retainer, so everything you tell me is confidential. However, I suggest you keep your comments to a minimum.” He looked at the blood staining my shirt. “Do you need immediate medical attention?”

“No.” I would rather die than have some dumbass nurse try to fix me. It would be just my luck that I’d catch some flesh-eating bacteria. No, thanks. I would rather bleed out. Once this was over, I’d call Scrub and get him to patch me up.

The lawyer shook his head, mumbling something about a tough son of a bitch. I smirked. If he only knew, but one thing was for sure: I wouldn’t be challenging him to any axe-throwing contests soon.

“Here’s the deal: a group of bikers robbed the liquor store on Elm.

They wore black helmets, white t-shirts, and jeans.

Sound familiar?” The lawyer smirked. “Here’s the problem: the traffic camera caught all of you, in formation, at the red light that’s near the entrance to the medical complex at the same time.

Mr. Williams, you’re the only one here who has a record, but it’s not for armed robbery, so they can’t use it against you to establish a pattern. There isn’t one.”

Slate had been on a drug run about twenty years ago when federal agents had overtaken the club.

He had had nothing on him, so he’d given himself up as a decoy, letting the other brothers take off.

It wasn’t uncommon then for the brothers to outrun the agents, rendezvousing at some safe house to let the heat die down.

My father had often been the decoy man, letting his mouth run until he’d been let go. I didn’t miss those days.

“The evidence they supposedly have on all of you won’t hold up, and they know it.

If it did, you’d be sitting in that cell for another thirty-six hours.

I’ve already negotiated your release, and once you walk out the front door, this will all be behind you.

They’re supposed to be working on your paperwork now, but until they knock on the door, you’ll sit in here with me. ”

“How long do you think that will be?” I asked, feeling lightheaded.

“Within the hour, but I’ll put pressure on them every fifteen minutes. Before you walk out of here, take off your shirt and clean yourself up. It’s better if you’re shirtless, rather than showing any sign of injury. Did you leave any blood behind?”

“Probably.” I had been busy making sure not to get knifed. I hadn’t been paying attention to where my blood splattered.

“Okay. I’ll take care of that.”

The room went silent as we waited. Fifteen minutes went by, and true to his word, the lawyer stood from his chair and knocked at the door. The officer who had led me in here answered, looking smug.

“Yes?” he said.

“Are my clients free to go?” the lawyer asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No,” the officer said, trying to close the door.

“Fifteen minutes, or I’m filing a formal complaint with names. You’re far from retirement.”

The officer’s eyes widened at the veiled threat as he let the door close.

I wasn’t taking any chances of not getting out of here, so I stripped my shirt off underneath my club cut and cleaned myself up as best I could. I didn’t have anywhere to hide my shirt, so I rolled it up and shoved it in the back of my jeans. It’d have to do for now.

I was curious how Emily knew this lawyer, but now wasn’t the time to ask questions. Seven minutes had passed when he stood from his chair and went to knock on the door with his briefcase in hand.

The officer opened the door, but there was sweat visible on his forehead. “The clerk will see you now.”

We were standing outside in the parking lot within ten minutes, and I wondered how much this was going to cost us.

“TSC Towing and Wrecking picked up your bikes from the medical complex. They have your contact information, so I’m sure you’ll be receiving a bill from them tomorrow.” The lawyer opened his briefcase and pulled out three sets of keys, handing them to Grease.

We were familiar with TSC–The Shield Company. It was one of ours.

“I suggest you lay low for a few days and let this all blow over. I’ll be in touch if I need anything.” The lawyer turned on his dress heal, and we watched as he made his way across the parking lot to a brand-new sports car.

They’d handed us our phones inside, and I instantly dialed Scrub.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“Where are you?” I didn’t have time for pleasantries.

“The hospital.”

“I need you to stitch me.”

***

Meredith

I paced up and down the length of the couch, waiting.

There was a pit in my stomach, and I wasn’t sure if it would disappear until I could lay my eyes and hands on Grizz.

Dead sat with his arm across the back, watching me.

I wanted to snap at him, but it wasn’t his fault.

He had left me alone, and I had appreciated that more than anything.

As I turned around to walk the other way, I caught Sabre’s eye. He held JR in one arm, and Grace was curled up on his other side as they sat on one couch.

Grace had had to step in, calming Sabre down when he realized he didn’t have a choice.

He had to wait with everyone else in the main room.

“This is her area of expertise. I know you’re worried about your men.

That’s what makes you a good president, but Emily will let us know how to help when she needs us. ”

“I have news.” Emily stopped pacing, her phone in her hand. “The brothers were just released, and they should head back soon.” She flopped down next to Zook, and he wrapped his arm around her. “I figured I’d tell everyone what happened all together because they’re going to have questions.”

Time seemed to crawl as we waited some more. It took me three seconds to walk the length of the couch. Another one to turn around, and three more to return to my starting position. I’d thought I had some patience, but this was killing me.

Aunt E smiled at me as I turned around. She was sitting with Thunder on the opposite couch from Grace and Sabre.

I returned it, sending a quick prayer of thanks to whomever listened that she’d been alright.

She hadn’t known anything was happening until Sabre had sat down next to Thunder in the therapy waiting room.

The prospect who had been with them was sitting at the bar facing the room. They had given him the night off, but he hadn’t headed upstairs. The rest of the brothers had found spots to lounge around. The clock was still ticking.

My back faced the front door when I heard the rumblings of people outside. I waited with everyone else, watching with bated breath.

“Honey, I’m home.” Pretty was the first one through the door, and there was a collective sigh of relief.

Sabre jumped up from his spot and went straight to Pretty.

He wrapped one arm around his shoulders and hugged him tight.

I couldn’t hear anything from this distance, but JR’s swipe at Pretty’s chest broke them apart.

“Hey, Little Man. Uncle’s home,” Pretty said, taking the baby out of Sabre’s arm.

The brothers trickled in, and the volume steadily increased as everyone crowded around them.

“Thank you. I didn’t have any fear you wouldn’t bail me out, since I’m your favorite brother.” How hugged Emily, reaching behind her to fist bump Zook.

“You’re my only brother.” She buried her face against How’s chest, clinging. He said nothing as he tightened his arms around her.

My eyes bounced between the brothers, but I didn’t see my husband.

“Where’s Grizz?” I asked, but no one heard me over the volume.

They were all talking over each other, the next brother louder than the one before.

The pit in my stomach had returned, although I wasn’t sure it had ever left.

My heart pounded in my chest, there was a whooshing sound between my ears, and my palms were clammy.

“Where’s Grizz?” I tried again, a little louder, but still no one heard me.

My feet moved on their own, until I was standing in the middle of the camaraderie. If no one answered me this time, I was going to fucking lose my shit. “Where’s Grizz?”

Pretty handed the baby to Wreck and cautiously approached me. He held his hands out in front of him, as if I was a wounded animal he needed to be leery of. “Grizz is fine, but there was a skirmish, and he went to the hospital. Scrub has to stitch him.”

“How long is he going to be gone?” I was panicking.

“I don’t know. Scrub doesn’t give us preferential treatment over actual patients as long as we’re not dying.”

“He’s dying?” I had heard nothing else. My body wanted to collapse onto the floor.

“No! He needed some stitches. That’s all.” Pretty folded me into his arms. “Don’t tell Grizz, but I’m touching.” He laid his chin on top of my head.

It was so stupid, but it made me laugh. “Thanks, Pretty,” I whispered, breathing a little easier.

“Anytime. Seriously though, he’s okay. I would tell you if something was really wrong.”

I took him at his word, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

My gaze never drifted from the front door as I sat on the nearest barstool.

Pretty had said it was just stitches, and a few of the other brothers had confirmed it, but until I saw Grizz myself, I wasn’t moving from my spot.

I was going to be the first person to jump his bones when he walked through the door.