Biker (22 page)

They ran after Derek and once again, a shot rang out from behind them. One of the gang members cried out in pain, and Noelle saw a bloody puncture in his arm.

“Keep up!” James commanded, and the man shouted in agony, but kept running.

Derek grunted with effort, turning another corner. Noelle kicked off her heels and pounded after him in bare feet.

Derek led them down a dimly lit stairwell.

“Parking lot should be right out here,” he whispered, breathless.

The door came into sight, and they all flew down the long flight of stairs, Blaze grasping Noelle’s hand tightly to pull her along.

Noelle’s dress had torn, and her hair was half undone, flying wildly around her face. Her lungs burned with exertion and she wanted to be out of this hotel, and far away from the Strip.

She never wanted to see Vegas again.

Tears pricked at her eyes, but she just pushed herself harder, her bare feet bruised, pounding down the stairs, the calves of her legs seared with pain.

Derek burst through the door first, and Noelle watched, as if in slow motion, as shots rang out, and Derek clutched his chest and staggered backwards.

Blood immediately began seeping through the back of his shirt, and Noelle screamed as Derek fell to the ground, lifeless.

Shots erupted around them, and James took out the two guards who had shot Derek.

The two men who had
killed
Derek.

“Derek!” she sobbed. Out of all the people in the Widowmakers MC, he had been the kindest, he had been her favorite.

“Oh no, not Derek!”

“There’s no time!” Blaze yelled, dragging Noelle with him. She cried out in pain as her bare feet scraped across the gravel of the parking lot.

A row of motorcycles waited for them across the parking lot, having been placed there just minutes earlier by gang members.

Most of the bikes would remain riderless in the parking lot—the club had lost so many people.

James slung the injured man over his bike and took off. The other uninjured gang member hopped onto a bike and roared off after him.

Blaze threw Noelle onto his bike, heaved the duffle bag at her, and jumped on, kicking it into gear. They roared toward the exit, following the other two bikes. Noelle leaned forward and clasped her hands around Blaze, the bag crushed between them.

Just as they were about to turn out of the parking lot, Noelle saw him.

There was a man crouched just at the edge of the parking lot, half hidden in the shadows, pointing a pistol directly at them.

“Blaze!” Noelle screamed, but it was too late.

The man fired, the sound muffled by the roar of the bike.

She heard Blaze cry out in pain, and she registered what had happened. He’d taken a bullet.

He managed to get them through the exit, and onto the strip.

That’s when Noelle felt the warm wetness seeping from his torso onto her hands

“Oh my God, Blaze!”

“Hold your hand there. Try to stop the bleeding.”

“Blaze! Stop! You need to pull over!”

“I can’t! We’ll be killed for sure. I’ve got to get us back to the clubhouse.”

Sobbing, Noelle pushed her hand against Blaze’s wound, trying to slow the bleeding. They tore down the strip and roared out onto the highway. It didn’t appear that they had been followed, but Blaze was driving erratically, and the bikes ahead of them had disappeared into the distance.

“Blaze! You can’t make it!” she cried frantically, pushing against his wound with all her strength, feeling his blood seeping through her fingers.

He didn’t answer her, but she felt the determination in his body as he leaned into the wind and throttled up the motorcycle.

Noelle wept silently so that Blaze couldn’t hear her; she wouldn’t add to his stress during this terrible ride.

Instead, she let the hot tears flow down her cheeks. The wind drove them down her neck and into the halter of her dress. She let them fall, so angry with herself for allowing this wretched night, this failed plan, to happen.

Blaze managed to keep control of the bike, and after what felt like hours, Noelle saw the clubhouse in the distance. As they got closer, she could see the gang members gathering outside.

They were waiting. Greedy, drunk, and high... the Widowmakers were waiting for the cash, so they could celebrate and get even drunker, even higher.

Blaze barely turned into the gravel driveway, and hadn’t even completely stopped the bike before collapsing off of it.

Complete chaos broke out as Blaze’s father came running up, and three gang members grabbed Blaze and raced him inside.

“He needs a hospital!” Noelle cried wildly. She could only imagine what she must look like – knotted windblown hair, smeared mascara, a torn dress and filthy bare feet.

“He can’t go to a hospital, you
idiot
!” his father yelled at her, before he disappeared into the clubhouse. Noelle stood there, holding the duffle bag, sobbing.

There were other people in the parking lot too, some of them women who were crying, and Noelle knew that they must be the wives and girlfriends of the men who had been shot at the Wynn.

Noelle choked on a sob, standing in the middle of the parking lot, unsure of what to do or where to go. She was completely vulnerable without Blaze to protect her.

An older woman came up to her. She looked aged beyond her years, and there was only the barest flicker of life behind her dead, emotionless eyes.

She looked vaguely familiar, and then it hit Noelle – the woman looked like Blaze. This had to be his mother.

“Go on inside,” the woman ordered, her voice raspy. “No one will bother you.”

Noelle nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered. She hurried into the clubhouse. There was so much going on that she was able to slip unnoticed into Blaze’s room. She had no idea where they had taken him, and she needed to pull herself together before trying to find him.

She shut the door behind her, and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm the sobs that still wracked her body.

Blaze had to be okay.

He couldn’t die. Things couldn’t end like this.

She pulled off her torn and dirty dress, and then put on a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. She kicked her purse and the duffle bag under Blaze’s bed and went out into the hall.

Luck seemed to be on her side, as she bumped into James almost right away.

“Where is Blaze?” she whispered, her voice filled with fear.

James looked grave. “It’s not good, Noelle. We’re not sure he’s going to make it. They took him down there and to the right,” he said, pointing down the hall.

Noelle nodded and hurried down the hall. She was a registered nurse. And if they weren’t going to take Blaze to a hospital to get the treatment that he needed, then she was going to do everything in her power to help him.

She found the room easily due to the crowd of people jamming the hallway.

“Let me through,” she cried, “I’m a nurse. I can help him.”

Eventually, the crowd parted, and Noelle was able to slip into the room. Blaze was laid out on a table, his wound pulsing a river of blood. Someone had spread out some basic medical equipment, and a man was standing over him.

“Move!” Noelle ordered, taking charge. “I’m a registered nurse, and unless you want him to die, I suggest you let me do what I can.”

The man gave her a shrewd look and hesitated, but finally handed over the supplies he was using.

“Now clear the room,” Noelle ordered, “this isn’t a show.” No one moved. “Get the hell out!” she commanded, and this time, people listened. When she looked up, she saw that Blaze’s father and James were the only ones who stayed behind.

“Do what you can,” his father said, his voice gruff.

Noelle nodded.

“Do you need help?” James asked softly. Noelle had never spoken much to James, though he had always seemed civil enough.

“Yes, that would be great.”

At her direction, James slipped on a pair of surgical gloves, as did Noelle, and she set about trying to remove the bullet. She would not allow the use of any painkillers, as Blaze was already slipping in and out of consciousness, and she feared that any more sedation might push him over the edge.

“I have to try to get the bullet out, but the pain is going to be excruciating. I think you may need to hold him down.” Her voice shook.

James nodded. “Just tell me when you’re ready.”

Noelle picked up a pair of long thin forceps, and then took a deep breath to steady herself. She looked over at James. “Ok, ready.”

James grasped Blaze’s arms and leaned down hard as Noelle slid the instrument into Blaze’s flesh, and just as she had predicted, he screamed in pain and writhed on the table, legs thrashing.

“It’s alright, man,” James said gruffly, “I got you. We’re gonna fix you up.”

Noelle forced back her tears and focused only on fixing Blaze.

A
fter a painstaking hour, she felt that she had done the best she possibly could, given the situation and limited resources.

“Thank you,” she said to James.

He nodded. “You’ll let me know if you need anything else, alright?”

“Yes. Thank you so much, James”

Crying softly now, she lay down next to Blaze and tried to get some sleep. She awoke every hour or so, checking on him, cleaning his wound and changing his dressing. The sutures she had done were coarse, and she was hoping that they would not separate or get infected.

Blaze’s father came in periodically to check on him, and he must have told the other gang members not to disturb them, because no one else came in as the night wore on.

Just after six in the morning, Blaze began to stir. He groaned in pain, and Noelle wondered if she had done the right thing by not giving him the drugs that would have provided him some relief. Yet she knew that Blaze had a strong family history of addiction, and she didn’t want to set him up for failure.

“Where am I?” he mumbled.

“You’re okay, Blaze. You’re at the clubhouse.”

He tried to sit up, but Noelle pushed him back down. “Relax. You’ve suffered a pretty bad injury.”

Blaze groaned as he tried to shift his body. “It fucking hurts.”

She cringed. “I know. I was afraid to give you any painkillers. Was I wrong? Do you want some?”

He grimaced and shook his head. “No. That was smart of you. It’s probably best if I don’t start.”

“I need to change the dressing on your wound again. You’re still bleeding.” She paused, unsure if she should say more. “You really need a hospital, Blaze, but your club won’t allow it.”

Blaze’s jaw set in a hard line. “They were right. I can’t go to a hospital. We
all
would end up in jail.” He looked over at Noelle again, who was concentrating on his wound. “I don’t remember everything, but it was bad last night, wasn’t it?”

She looked up at him, stubborn tears filling her eyes. She nodded, unable to speak. Noelle knew if she opened her mouth that only sobs would come out. She still couldn’t believe that innocent people died. She still couldn’t believe that they had lost Derek, had left him lying there alone on a sidewalk in Vegas.

“It’s on the news by now,” Blaze said, “I need to speak to someone. I don’t want to see my father. Maybe James?”

“Sure. I’ll get him.” Noelle hurried off. As much as she hated the main room, she knew that would be her best bet for locating James. She moved quietly through the hallways, feeling more exhausted than at any other time in her life. She was supposed to be on a flight heading home soon, but she couldn’t imagine leaving Blaze in his condition. She made a mental note to call out of work for the following day.

She reached the big room, and the atmosphere was somber. Some people were crying; others were seated together in tight clusters, speaking in hushed tones.

Thankfully, Noelle saw James across the room. He saw her at the same time, and he strode across the room toward her.

“What is it?” he asked, his eyes worried.

“It’s Blaze. He wants to see you. He doesn’t remember much of last night, and he has a lot of questions. Be very careful with what you say, he’s still in a very vulnerable state.”

James nodded and followed Noelle back to the room where Blaze was recovering.

“Hey buddy,” James said softly when he entered the room. Blaze lay still, his face ashen.

“James,” he wheezed, “What’s going on? What’s the news reporting? What went down at the Wynn?”

Noelle shrank back into a corner, trying to make herself invisible. She didn’t necessarily feel like she should be privy to this conversation, but she wasn’t leaving Blaze, and she was curious. Would James lie? She herself hadn’t seen the local news, and didn’t know the extent of the carnage. How many dead? How many injured?

“It’s bad,” James said gravely, “It’s all over the news stations – local and national. There don’t seem to be any ties to us – no one really knows who the victims are yet, but we definitely need to lay low for a while. Your dad is freaking out pretty badly.”

Blaze took this in, wincing as he tried to sit up in bed. Noelle hurried over, propping pillows up behind him and helping him sit up.

“And what did we make? What did those lives cost us?” Blaze asked, his tone bitter. Noelle wondered if he regretted the heist now. How could he not? They lost far more than they could have ever anticipated. She knew Blaze well enough to know that he never would have moved forward if he had suspected they would lose so many people.

“We did well, very well. We brought in nearly forty million.”

“Holy shit.”

“I know.”

Noelle sucked in a deep breath. The number was staggering, but she also just remembered that there was an additional duffle bag in Blaze’s room. No one seemed to remember that there was more money to be counted.

She didn’t speak up.

Blaze winced again and this time Noelle spoke up. “You need to rest more. I don’t want to scare you Blaze, but it’s a really bad wound.”

Blaze nodded and looked at James. “Thanks for coming in here. Do me a favor and tell my old man that I’ll be fine.”

James nodded and started to leave. Noelle stood by the door and James stopped and looked intently at her. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I know, and so does everyone else, that Blaze wouldn’t be here right now if it wasn’t for you.”