Kid: Cerberus MC Book 2 (20 page)

“It wasn’t an IED, Kid. You’re in Vegas, not Germany. BT is fine, but it seems you got banged up pretty bad from a fall in the hotel.”

I shake my head. “I don’t…” I let my voice trail off. I’ve never been so confused in my life. I have no clue what the hell I’d be doing in Vegas. I have no idea who this BT person is.

I feel a rough pat on my shoulder. “Just take it easy, Kid. We’ll get it all sorted out.”

I give in to the sleep that is creeping into my brain. Things will make more sense after I wake up.

***

“What are you saying?” I ask Kincaid again, scrubbing my hands down my face.

My hands run over the unfamiliar skin. I have a beard. They say I’ve been in and out for two days, but that doesn’t explain all of the hair on my damn face. I know shaving it will be the first thing I do. This bastard itches like crazy.

“You remember the MC?”

I nod.

“But you don’t remember being in Vegas?”

I shake my head no. I try hard to remember, but it seems thinking literally hurts my head. Every attempt to recall the missing pieces of time makes the constant throb in my head turn into more of a blast of pain. I wince and drag my heavy hand to the front of my head.

I see Kincaid’s eyes dart to the doctor standing on the other side of my bed.

“Memory loss isn’t uncommon for people with your type of head injury, Mr. Hertz.”

“That’s not my…” A throat clearing loudly on the other side of the room draws my attention. I see Shadow shake his head.

Ten-four. Fake name. Clearly I suck at this whole undercover mission thing. We’ve been on several missions since I got out of the Marines and joined the Cerberus MC, but nothing domestic. We’d always been overseas for the type of things we’d get called in to do.

I know they won’t give me full details until we’re away from the hospital.

“When do you think he’ll get his memory back?” Shadow asks from the doorway.

“Hard to know. Sometimes it comes back suddenly within hours. Sometimes the memories trickle in.” I see him frown. “Sometimes full memory is never recovered.”

“Is there anything we can do to help the process,” Kincaid asks raising his eyes from his cell phone.

“Immersion is best. He needs to be home, around people he knows. Doing things he’s always done. Don’t try to force it, but let it come naturally.” Kincaid nods. “The nurse should be by in an hour or so with his discharge paperwork. The staples will need to come out in eight days.”

“Thank you, doctor,” I hear Shadow say. I close my eyes to try to fight off the headache I can already feel inching inside my brain.

I hear the door close softly, and I know it’s only MC members in the room now.

Without even opening my eyes I ask, “So when are you fuckers going to tell what the hell is going on?”

“An old friend of mine, BT Urruela,” Shadow begins, “needed some help with a situation here in Vegas.”

“What kind of situation?”

“It’s not important, Kid.” Kincaid cuts in. “I sent you here to help him. You got hurt, and we’re heading back to the MC this afternoon. BT has managed to get inside of the SINdicate, so we’re coming back out to help him once we get you settled in at the house.”

I groan in frustration. I have no recollection of a huge chunk of the last year. The guys look the same but different. Kincaid even has a couple of new tattoos on his forearms that I don’t recognize. I believe them that my memory is not complete, but at the same time it’s hard to wrap my head around the fact that I’ve done, said, and experienced things in the last year that I don’t remember.

“Damn it,” Kincaid says standing from his chair. I see him look down at a phone but then pull a different phone out of his pocket. “Hey. You have to tell her to stop.” Silence. “No, he doesn’t have it yet. He’s not ready for it.” Silence. He sighs loudly and makes his way to the door. “There’s no sense in her texting so much,” I hear him say before the door closes behind him.

“What the hell is that about?” I look at Shadow.

“No clue, man.” Those are his words, but the look in his eyes says he fully aware of what the hell is going on. Like I said, this has to be the worst episode of the
Twilight Zone
.

“When do we head out?” I look down at the hospital gown I’m forced to wear. Thankfully the catheter and IV have been removed, but lying in the bed makes me feel helpless. I can’t wait to get back to the clubhouse and out of this damn place.

“As soon as they discharge you, we’re heading out. Jet is on the tarmac waiting for us,” Shadow says raising his eyes to the silent TV hanging on the wall.

Kincaid said that they’d be back with Kid the next day. The day came and went, each hour spent watching out the window waiting for them to arrive. The sun rose and fell without that happening. Emmalyn doesn’t seem as affected, but I also feel like she’s hiding something from me. She’s not very good at it, and her eyes dart away each time I question her, but she’s not caving either.

I call his phone. Straight to voicemail. I’ve left several messages. I text. They go unanswered. I’m thinking the worst here, and no one seems to be willing to give me answers. I’ve found myself creeping around the clubhouse, hoping to catch bits and pieces of information I know the others are keeping from me.

I’m sure I could catch someone slipping, but the only actual member that’s here is Rose’s husband, Doc, and he isn’t saying a word. He’s never been rude to me, but I feel like he’s of the opinion that I don’t belong here, which is making him keep his distance.

Chin in my hand, turned facing the window, I wait for them to show up. I feel the couch dip beside me, but I don’t even turn to see who it is. Em is the only one who approaches me without care. The other girls don’t avoid me really, but they don’t go out of their way to be friendly either. Maybe it’s my age; maybe they feel like I’m encroaching on their MC members.

“They’re still not here,” I tell Em stating the obvious.

“Diego sent me a text message a little bit ago; they’re on their way.”

I turn and glare at her. “You’re just now telling me this?”

“Khloe,” she says with a frown. “You knowing a couple of hours ago wouldn’t have made any difference.”

“I miss him.”

I pull my phone from my pocket and open my text app.

Emmalyn’s hand closes over mine. “Listen Khloe, Diego says he has some memory loss. They haven’t given him his phone back.”

That explains why he hasn’t messaged me back and why the calls continue to go straight to voicemail.

“He asked me to tell you to stop sending him texts and leaving voicemails.” She cringes having to deliver the news.

“How bad is the memory loss?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know,” she says softly.

I have a million questions, but I decide not to ask. She may not know the information, and if she did, I feel like she wouldn’t tell me the full truth.

Memory loss. Like he’s struggling with remembering what he had for breakfast? Or he can’t even remember his own name?

I swallow my tears and look back out the window. I can’t help but wonder if Kincaid knew this before he left the other day. He told me he was fine, and he may be physically okay, but memory loss- that’s not okay at all.

“Maybe we can make his favorite meal, or grab one of those half and half shakes from the diner. That could help with his memory,” I offer.

She gives me a weak placating smile and eventually nods her head. “I don’t know about the shake, but I do know that lasagna is his favorite. The other guys would appreciate a home cooked meal when they get back as well.”

She stands from the couch and holds her hand out to me. “Let’s go make him lasagna.”

I know she’s just trying to pacify me, and I let her. I need something to keep my mind and my hands busy. Cooking is much better than sitting at the window and staring off into the desert.

Emmalyn points to a cabinet. “Pasta is in there.”

I open the cabinet and reach in for the noodles. “How many boxes do you think we’ll need?”

She scrunches her brows up in contemplation. “It’s only us girls, Diego, Kid, and Shadow. Snatch and Itchy aren’t going to be here. All the other guys are also out of town. So maybe we make three big pans?”

“Three?” I choke out.

She laughs. “Have you seen how much the guys eat? They each put away over a pizza and a half when we order in.” My eyes widen, “And those are the large ones.”

“Okay, then.” I laugh lightly. “Three pans of lasagna.”

She pulls meat from the freezer and begins to thaw it in the two industrial microwaves.

“Make our own sauce or use the jars in the pantry?” I ask angling my head out of the wall in pantry area.

“Might as well use the jars. We don’t really have the time we need to get the sauce simmered perfectly.”

I nod and grab the sauce. With her words, I know that they will be home in less than two hours. I’m thrilled and terrified at the same time.

Emmalyn catches me in contemplation periodically and rubs my back gently. What she doesn’t do is tell me everything will be okay. I appreciate and hate it at the same time.

I’m easily forgettable. Life has proven that to me. My mother couldn’t be bothered to be concerned about me. Each and every foster home I’ve been in, I’ve been overlooked. The only time I’ve gotten an ounce of individual attention since my parents’ death is when I’ve gotten in trouble. Well, that and the foster dad who would get drunk and stumble into my room when I was younger. I shudder and try to block that shit out of my head.

Kid.

He paid attention to me. I never felt left out around him. He sat beside me at each meal; he held me at night even when I knew it was killing him because of the self-imposed no touching rule. He’s sacrificed for me, and if he comes home and doesn’t remember me, I’ll be devastated, heartbroken, but I won’t give up.

We had an instant attraction almost from the first second our eyes met. We can get back there again.

I turn when I hear talking coming from the hallway. My heart begins to race, and I have to take a calming breath when I see Rose, Snapper, and Gypsy walk into the room. The lasagnas have been prepared, and Em and I place them in the oven. Once the kitchen is cleaned, we all head out and sit in the main living area.

We’re quiet, and no one says a word, but we all know we’re waiting for the guys to get home. I get a feeling that this is routine for them. They’re all around when the guys return home from a job.

The sound of tires on gravel fill the room. I make to stand from the sofa, but Emmalyn halts me by placing her hand on my arm.

“Diego said the doctor informed them the best thing for him is to let his memories come back naturally. That won’t happen if you rush him the second he walks in the door.” She pats my shoulder and stands closer since she has a man to greet.

Tears fill my eyes when Shadow and Kid walk through the door. He glances at me and grins, but the look in his eyes now is nothing like the way he was looking at me before he left. He smiles the exact same way he would to a stranger.

I can’t seem to keep my eyes open since leaving the hospital, so I don’t. I’m with my brothers, and I know I’m safe to sleep. I wake long enough to get from the jet to the SUV, and I’m out again.

I don’t wake until I feel a slight shove of my leg, and I can tell that the vehicle has stopped moving.

“Hey, man. We’re home,” Kincaid says as his door opens.

I squint against the overhead light and climb out of the back seat. I notice there are now flowers planted to either side of the stairs that I don’t remember. I think they’re a nice touch, but I don’t say anything to the other guys because I can already see the concern in their eyes each and every time they realize I can’t remember something.

The clubhouse looks the same, so that’s assuring. Shadow keeps up with me, but Kincaid hangs back when his phone starts to ring.

“Fuck it smells good in here,” I mutter as soon as he pulls open the door. Spicy Italian, my favorite.

I’m greeted by a blonde bombshell. I must be the luckiest guy in the world because she walks up and gives me a hug.

“Hey, Kid. Glad you’re back,” she says.