Kid: Cerberus MC Book 2 (19 page)

“For fuck’s sake,” the guy holding me mutters.

I feel his grip loosen again, and I can tell he’s about to throw me to the side. I know once I land I have to pretend to be out for the count somehow, but what I didn’t anticipate is my feet getting tangled in his. I also didn’t calculate the distance from me to the bedside table. I see it as I’m falling to the ground.

The sound of my head cracking against it makes my stomach turn even before I feel the pain shatter through my head. I lose consciousness before I can even crumple to the floor.

“He’s working,” Emmalyn says again.

I sigh, my frustration to the point I can’t even hide it any longer.

“I know. He’s been working all week, but we text constantly. I texted last night and again earlier today, and he still hasn’t responded.” I push my tongue to the roof of my mouth to keep the tears from falling. “He always responds.”

She pats me on the back like a mother would a child. I want to shrug her off, but I know she’s only trying to be supportive.

“Sometimes when Diego goes on a job, I don’t hear from him for a few days. I know it’s hard to just sit back and wait, but it’s what we have to do.”

I nod my head at her explanation. It doesn’t get rid of the sick feeling I have in my gut; the one that tells me something is wrong, beyond her explanation of this just being part of the job.

Kincaid comes to the table, kisses her on the head, and sits down beside her. I smile, having grown used to their level of affection. I pull my phone from my back pocket and call Kid again. It doesn’t even ring this time, going straight to voicemail.

I’m about to tell Kincaid my worries when he pulls his own phone from his pocket. Looking down at the screen he frowns, which I never see him do when he’s this close to Emmalyn. He stands from the table, gives me a quick look, and walks away.

I couldn’t read his face, but I know he’s not happy about whatever information just came across his phone. My pulse begins to race, because I know, even though he didn’t say anything, that whatever it is has something to do with Kid.

My palms grow sweaty, and I can’t control the tremble in my hands.

Kincaid comes back, but calls to Emmalyn from the doorway.

“Babe,” he says getting her attention with his deep voice. “I need to talk to you.”

She sighs and gets up from the table, leaving me alone with my heart thundering in my ears.

Unable to sit still, I also get up from the table and head out to the main room. I pace for what feels like hours. I see the droop of the plants in the corner. These are clearly part of the forgotten project Emmalyn had going on. I grab supplies from the side porch and water the plants, if anything just to keep my hands busy while I wait for Kincaid to show his face.

I know something is going on. I know he may feel like I have no business knowing what that is, but that’s not going to keep me from demanding he tell me. I pace even more until both he and Emmalyn walk through the doorway.

My heart drops again when I see the duffle bag in his grip. He has one arm around Emmalyn, and I can tell she’s been crying. I swallow roughly, knowing in my heart I’m about to get horrible news for the second time in less than two months.

“Tell me,” I say through sobs I’m not even trying to control. “Please, tell me what’s going on,” I beg Kincaid as he gets closer.

My feet are planted in the exact same spot I stopped in when I saw them walk in the room. I’m afraid if I try to move I’ll fall on my face. I have no idea how I’m even standing right now.

Emmalyn releases her hold on Kincaid’s arm and wraps her arms around my shoulder.

“He’s fine,” he says knowing exactly what I’m talking about.

“He’s not hurt?”

He looks at me like he’s trying to decide what information to give me and what he needs to leave unsaid. “He hit his head,” he explains. “He’s in the hospital, but he’s going to be just fine. I’m going to Vegas to get him. We should be back tomorrow.”

“He’s fine?” I ask needing to hear him say it again.

He nods, and I feel like a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Kid is okay and will be back tomorrow.

Emmalyn releases her grip on me long enough to walk Kincaid outside. I fall unceremoniously into a chair, suddenly feeling exhausted. I don’t think Kincaid would lie to me, but I still feel like he’s not being one hundred percent truthful. The sinking feeling in my gut has changed from worry to a sense of foreboding, as if things will never be the same again.

***

“Hey,” I hear Em’s soft voice say as I feel a gentle shaking of my shoulder.

I open my eyes, realizing quickly that I had fallen asleep on the couch while waiting for her to return from outside.

I wipe away a tear that has begun to roll down my cheek.

“None of that,” she says with a slight chuckle. “You heard Diego. He’s going to be fine.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

She shakes her head in confusion. “Your eyes were red and puffy. It’s worse than Diego let on isn’t it?”

She shakes her head and lowers her eyes to her clasped hands. “It’s not that,” she says softly.

I wait for her to speak, and each second that ticks by seems like years.

“We decided we were going to try to start a family. It,” she pauses and tries to hide her pain. “It just didn’t happen this time.”

“Oh, Em,” I say wrapping her in a hug. “Was this the first month you tried?”

She nods and wipes the tears from her cheek. “I mean, I shouldn’t be upset. I know these things take time, but I was hopeful.”

I have no clue what to say to her. This isn’t a situation I’ve ever been involved in. The only people I knew of that had gotten pregnant were high school girls, and they were upset that they were pregnant, not that they weren’t.

I don’t want to tell her everything will be okay because neither one of us knows that for sure. “Maybe next month?”

She smiles weakly. “Maybe next month,” she concedes.

“And just think,” I say with a light laugh, “tons more practicing between now and then.”

She laughs and wipes the last tear from her face. “Could you imagine a baby around this house of bikers?”

“Honestly, no I can’t,” I say.

“I bet they’d all turn into the big softies we know they are.”

I smile wide. “And Snatch can teach it boy-band songs!” She releases the last of her sadness, and we begin to talk about what life would be like with children around.

I want to ask her about the club girls and some of the not so appropriate behavior for children that I’ve seen, especially in the kitchen in the morning, but I don’t. That’s a bridge they’ll have to cross when and if a baby is even here.

I don’t have an issue with children, but being only seventeen, almost eighteen, they are nowhere near my radar.

“So, Kid is okay?” I ask once again just to verify.

“Yeah. The hospital called some line set up for the members to get ahold of the guys here and left a message. The doctor told Diego he hit his head pretty hard, but he seems okay for the most part.”

“For the most part?”

“Diego said he seems a little confused, but the doctor assured him that it’s normal with a head injury like he has,” she explains.

I have to focus on the fact that he’s alive and will be home tomorrow. Everything else I will take as it comes. If I have to play nurse until he’s one hundred percent, then I guess that is my cross to bear.

I give Emmalyn one final hug and get up from the couch.

“What do you plan to do?” Em asks reaching out for my arm before I can walk off. I shrug because I don’t have any plans. I never have any plans. “Wanna watch some TV since both our men are gone?”

“Our men?” I ask with a raised eyebrow. “I don’t know about that. He hasn’t made any type of declaration.”

“Oh please,” she says lacing her arms through mine. “You know as well as I do that Kid is totally head over heels for you.”

I huff out a laugh. “Well, at least I only have a handful of days before he can finally put into action everything I’ve been begging for.”

Emmalyn stops in her tracks. “We need to plan a party.”

“We do not need to do that,” I say.

“You only turn eighteen once,” she says.

I shake my head and begin walking toward my room. “You only turn every age once, Em.”

“We totally have to have a party for you!” I ignore her for the most part; then I hear her whisper. “Just leave it up to me, Khloe. This will be the best birthday party you’ve ever had!”

I smile and nod because I know there’s no stopping her. What I don’t say is the last birthday party I had was when I turned nine, and my parents were dead a month later, so she doesn’t have to reach very far to make it better than that.

“White male, mid-twenties,” I hear a distant voice say. “From the look of the dried blood, I’d say he was injured hours ago. Name on the ID is Wyatt Hertz.” Who the hell is Wyatt Hertz? That name’s not familiar at all.

“Stats?” another voice asks.

I’m jostled and can feel a sense of weightlessness before my back meets a hard surface.

“BP one sixty over one ten. IV started and neck stabilized in the field. Pupils are fine but extensive bleeding from the wound in his head.”

Every part of my body hurts. I don’t remember what went down, and I’m unable to determine the extent of my wounds. My guess would be an IED. We’re always as careful as we can be when we head out with the unit, but shit happens, more times than we like to think about.

I can’t open my eyes, and I pray I’m not blind. It’s one of my worst fears, that and getting my dick blown off in an insurgent attack.

I hear more voices around me, and I can’t identify any of them. I try to sit up, but strong arms hold me down.

“Okay, Mr. Hertz, try to stay calm. We’re going to give you something for the pain.”

I feel a sharp pain in my arms, followed by a mild burning, then absolute nothingness.

“You said housekeeping found him?” I hear a vaguely familiar voice say.

The voices sound so far away, but I know they are right next to me. I’m beyond disoriented, and the throb in my temples is enough to make my stomach turn.

“Yes, sir. We’ve kept him sedated. He’s rather,” the voice pauses. “Unruly when he wakes.”

I hear a deep masculine chuckle. “I can see that. Prognosis?”

“Same as what I told you over the phone this morning. All of his scans came back normal. We were able to close the wound on his head with a handful of staples. His blood pressure was a little high when he was first brought in, but it’s leveled out now.”

“Brain damage?” the familiar voice asks.

“The scans are super clean, but we can’t rule anything out until he wakes up.”

The unfamiliar voice drones on and on until I’ve heard enough.

I shift my body sluggishly. “If he starts to get out of hand we’ll have to give him more sedative,” the voice warns.

“I can handle him.” That voice.

“Lieutenant?” I mutter hoarsely.

“I’m here Kid.” I feel a strong hand on my shoulder. “You need to calm down, and I’ll explain everything, but if you give these nice people any more trouble, they’re going to load you up with more drugs.”

I nod my head. Well, I feel like I’m nodding my head; I can’t really tell with how foreign my body feels right now.

I open my eyes a tiny slit, but the lights are too bright and slam them back closed.

“It’s too bright,” I manage to say.

“That’s normal as well. Sensitivity to light after a head injury.” I see the bright light from behind my eyelids dim.

“How many men did we lose Lieutenant?” I squint up at him.

“Look at me, Kid.” I turn my head to him, but it doesn’t go unnoticed that my surroundings don’t look like a military hospital. Those places are made for nothing but efficiency; this place is almost too nice.

“Am I already in Germany?” I see the confusion in his eyes, and it makes me even more confused.

“What do you think happened?” Diego “Kincaid” Anderson, my Lieutenant on this mission asks.

“An IED? You tell me, L.T. How bad is it?” I clear my throat. “They didn’t shoot my dick off did they?”

He laughs humorlessly, and dread washes over me.