Cease (Bayonet Scars Book 7) (22 page)

"I don't need his protection," I say. Davis. That name sounds familiar, but my brain is foggy. On the other side of the glass door, the suited man I now know as Detective Davis shifts in place. His hands gesture to something across the emergency room from us, and then he pulls out his phone, puts it to his ear, and walks away.

"I don't think that's why he's here," Vicky says.

"Alex, shit," I say, finally realizing I haven't asked about our girl. She has to be okay, not fine, but okay. "I need you to check on Alexandra Mancuso's condition for me."

"I've been keeping tabs on Ms. Mancuso off and on since you guys came in. She's stable. Despite the depth of the cuts on her face, she lost minimal blood. The skin will take time to heal, and it will scar over, but she's lucky."

"She's lucky? That girl is anything but lucky, lady."

"That was a poor choice of words. I'm sorry." Vicky sounds like she has more to say, but the whooshing sound from the opening of the glass door distracts me from listening. A tired smile overtakes my face at the sight before me.

"There's my man," Ruby says as she pushes her way through the door. Her lips are turned up at the corners, but I wouldn't call it a smile because it doesn't reach her eyes. She's wearing the same blood-stained clothes like a shield. I know my woman. If she changes and has to wash the blood off, it makes this all real, and then she has to deal with it.

With a few steps, she's hovering over me awkwardly. Tentatively, I reach up and grab the back of her neck and pull her lips to mine. My shoulder is stiff, and I'm weak, but I do my best to keep from showing it. I give my toes a wiggle and move my legs as much as I can bring myself to. My arms are lethargic, as is the rest of me, but they don't hurt exactly. When I deepen the kiss and pull my woman in closer, my abdomen aches from the strain of it. We keep on like this, just indulging in each other. When we finally pull away, I notice Vicky in the corner, her cheeks bright red and her nose shoved in her clipboard. Ruby sucks in a ragged breath and licks her lips as she stares at me through hooded eyes. My dick is at half-mast, as is evident through the thin, aging bed linens. Vicky does her best not to notice, but I catch her looking anyway and give her a wink.

Just as I'm having fun with the pretty nurse, my mobile phone buzzes from somewhere near my head. I try to reach for it, but Ruby slaps me away, saying, "You're going to pop your stitches." She stares at the notification screen. "Text from Duke," she says before handing the phone over.

Twenty years ago I knew she'd be the perfect old lady. Didn't take the club long to catch on. The day after I brought my girl home, I asked the club to vote her in. Eighteen months later, after we'd already been married for almost six months, Rage inked her with the Forsaken warrior. Part of the warrior's blade peeks out from under her leather jacket on her collar bone. Twenty years and she still looks at me with the same amount of love and trust she did the day I made her mine.

"Will you check that text message?" she chides playfully. "It might be important. Once we're back home, we'll have forever to stare at each other like lovesick teenagers."

"Still won't be enough time," I say with my eyes on my phone. Pulling up Duke's text, I stare in horror at the image that comes through. Duke's face is bloody and bruised, with cuts over and under his left eye. His nose is clearly broken, and dried blood is coming out of his nostrils. His right eye is swollen. There's an anger in his expression that matches the hate I feel in my heart right now. What the fuck is going on now? Another text arrives, this one reading, TAKE OUR KING, WE TAKE YOUR DUKE. SWAP. 6A. PLACE TBA.

"Fuck," I say a little louder than intended and quickly forward the messages to Wyatt. I'm guessing whoever in Mancuso's organization had the nerve to take one of our guys doesn't have any more inside intel, because shit like this gets directed at the top. I'm not at the top anymore.

Vicky the Nurse pulls her attention from the computer screen she's staring at, in shock.

"Sorry. My son just texted me. I've been asking him to come see me, but he's in the other room with my stepdaughter. He, uh, won't leave her side."

Vicky looks through the glass door, her eyebrows raised in surprise. Ruby leans over me, seeing something I can't, and clears her throat as she focuses her attention on the nurse. "They only met two years ago. They weren't raised together."

"Uh-huh," Vicky says, mouth agape.

"We're not like that, I swear," Ruby says with a disturbed look on her face. Vicky blinks and then turns toward Ruby, who says, "Hey, uh, nurse, do you think it'd be okay to bring our daughter in here to see her dad?"

The nurse turns back to the door, bites her lip, and scrunches her face. I groan at the thought of what she's seeing. We really need to find a better way to explain our family to people so they don't look at us like we're a fucking freak-show. Once Vicky composes herself, she says she doesn't think that will be a problem and then excuses herself. She also promises to keep Detective Davis away from my room for as long as she can.

When she's gone, Ruby tells me how Ryan was lying in bed with Alex, groping one of her boobs with his mouth at her neck. She swatted him away, at least, but otherwise, it was a straight-up PG-13 scene going on in there.

I try to laugh at the situation, but all I can think about is that fucking picture. I keep my phone down but in my hand, so just in case something else comes through, my woman can't see it.

A few minutes pass before Ian and Mindy file into the room, followed by Michael. Eventually, Ryan backs into the room, pulling Alex in a wheelchair right along with him. I get them all settled and check in with Alex, who just nods her head in response. Ruby and Ryan explain that it's painful for her to move her facial muscles, especially since she's trying to take as little pain medicine as possible.

"Makes her too drowsy, and fuck if I'm letting Cub lay up in here, defenseless," Ryan says. He rubs her shoulders. Our girl looks damn miserable. She tries to communicate with me, but the bandages on her face make it difficult.

"Don't, sweetheart," I say when she tries to talk. "I'm okay. We're going to be okay." I don't tell her that we're going to be okay because her father will soon be dead. Instead, I just try to give our girl a little comfort when I can. She's had enough devastation. We all have. When we get home, I'm going to take it easy. I'll be retired, spending my days drinking whiskey on my porch and sinking into my old lady. Life's going to be good. It'll be easy.

But before it can be easy, it's going to be hard.

With a sigh, I toss my phone to Ian. Ryan's likely to break the fucking thing first. It takes him less than thirty seconds to look at the picture and accompanying message and to start relaying its contents to the room. While he's got the phone in hand, he sends the message around to the guy's burners and then hands it to Michael. As predicted, when Ryan sees the photo of his best friend, all bloodied and bruised, he gets mad enough that he kicks at the nearest wall. Thankfully, it wasn't one of the glass ones.

"They're dead," Ryan snaps. "They're fucking dead." Ryan's outrage is only matched by his mother's, who spits out roughly the same thing. I give her hand a squeeze to try to calm her down. Nobody rages like a momma bear.

"No doubt, son," I say, "But you want to keep it down so Detective Davis doesn't try arresting your ass before we can get our boy back?"

Alex's eyes dart up to Ryan. She pulls down on his cut and signals for his phone. Doing a quick about-face, he crouches down in front of her and tries to decipher her request. I don't interject, rather, I lie in silence and watch. My son, who is all temper and impulse and until a few years ago only ever cared about himself, is quietly trying to understand his girlfriend's needs. When she grows tired of playing charades with him, she reaches into his cut and pulls the phone out herself. Ryan's eyes soften and crinkle in the corners as a smile overtakes his face. She types something out that's just for him, judging by the light that shines in his eyes, but then types something else right after. Ryan places a kiss to the top of her head and stands to his full height.

"Cub says Davis is the pig who double-crossed her."

"Wait," Michael says. He's been fairly quiet in the corner so far, his eyes working a strategy. "Adam Davis? The prick who arrested me?"

"The very same," Ian says. He places a hand on Mindy's shoulder and gives it a squeeze. "If Scavo wants his sister safe, he better get her out of that house and fast. Her husband, the good officer, has been promoted to detective, and he's been working closely with the FBI. Way I see it, there's only one reason Davis is here."

"Shit. So that's his angle. After two years, he's still trying to press RICO." Michael pulls his phone out and shoots off a quick message, then shoves it back in his pocket.

"Not only that, but if the feds can prove a connection between Forsaken and Mancuso, and they use RICO, and we're all done for," Ian says. Then he does something with his phone and nods his head at Michael.

"Well, that's not going to happen," Michael says. He pulls his phone out and messes with the screen. Then he curses. "Fucking Tony. You know this is him, right?" His attention is on Alex now. She nods her head. When she came to us two years ago, she was all tears and soft edges all the time. She's toughened up a lot since the last time we were in New York. She still loves her father and cousin, I know that. But she doesn't seem sad about their fate anymore.

"I think I know where they got Duke," Michael says, studying his phone. "There's a big-ass ventilator in Fortino's old warehouse--the one the feds seized. The thing weighs a fucking ton. And it looks just like the thing behind your boy's head."

"How sure are you about this?" Ryan sizes Michael up, and possibly for the first time, he doesn't look like he hates his stepbrother. Progress, however small, is fucking needed.

"I'd bet my life on it," Michael says.

"Then we better get going." Ryan straightens his back, puffs his chest out, and checks his waistband for his trusty knife. When he bends at the waist and reaches to his ankle, I know he's checking for the .22 he carries there.

"Wait for your president, son," I say in warning. "Going off half-cocked is going to get you hurt--or worse."

"They have my brother," Ryan says. Ian's eyes bore into the side of Ryan's head, essentially begging him to look his way. When he finally does, Ryan shakes his head in response. "What? Suddenly Duke's not your boy?"

"Don't." Ian's tone is ice cold. "You of all people know not to question my loyalty. Especially for Duke."

"Shit." Michael's head is tilted toward the glass. He's got the curtain pulled back, surveying the rest of the emergency room. "Feds are coming. We better break this up."

Everybody moves into action, with Michael and Ian heading out to contact the rest of the club. Ruby gives me a wry smile as she grabs Mindy's arm and drags her from my room. I barely hear her mutter, "Trust me," on their way out. Within moments, Ruby's screaming at the top of her lungs about Mindy trying to fuck her husband.

My eyes widen in response as do Alex's. We stare at each other in shock before a smile lights up her face. She winces in pain and sighs unhappily. Her hand finds its way to the bandages on her face. Nurse Vicky shows up a moment later and escorts Alex back to her room. Ryan's eyes follow the retreating duo, but he doesn't follow.

"I know what you want to do, but don't you even think about it."

"I'm not leaving him there. We wait until six and they'll ambush us. We won't have to worry about RICO and the bitch-ass feds because we'll be dead."

"I'm not saying six. I'm saying you take it to Pres. You rush in alone and you will end up dead. They want Mancuso. He's the only way you walk out of there alive
and
with our boy."

Ryan bounces, antsy on his feet, unable to stay still. His eyes dart around the room. He sucks in a shaky breath and throws his arms in the air. One step back toward the door and then another.

"Son, don't." My words do no good. Ryan rushes out of the room and disappears around the corner. I grab at my abandoned phone on my bed next to me and call Ian. He doesn't answer. Neither does Michael or any of my brothers. Fuck.
Think, Jim, think.
I focus on finding a solution to solving the problem my son's about to create, but I can't.

Except one.

"Okay, legs. Don't fail me now," I say to myself as I move to sit up. It's painful at best, but not so blinding that I can't keep moving. Once I'm sitting up all the way, I slowly pull the IV out of my arm and detach everything else that's keeping me bedridden.

Ruby's and Mindy's screams are barely audible now, their voices trailing down the crowded space. Christ, I hope they don't get themselves arrested. A shrill alarm sounds, followed by a clicking noise and the sprinklers going off. Everything gets coated in cold water, including the floor. I'm no pussy, but even I'm nervous about sliding around on the wet linoleum. I don't let it deter me, though. I slide off the bed, despite the slight wobble of my legs, and walk out of the room as inconspicuously as possible. Which isn't fucking easy considering my bare ass is on display for all to see. When we get home, I'm going to kill my son for making me do this. A man gets stabbed, he should be able to recover in fucking peace.