“You're not supposed to be down here, baby. What the hell are you doing?”
“Trying to talk some sense into you,” Christa said coolly. “Her cousin keeps calling, you know. He was there when the ranch got attacked and Stryker was shot up.”
“Don't mention that fucking rat's name again!” Rabid spat.
Hearing how he said rat caused my heart to skip a beat. I had a feeling it was something like that, but knowing it...God. The young man was as good as dead if he'd truly done something to fuck over the club.
Maybe he'd be crucified, just like the other men Roman talked about killing. Or maybe there'd be something worse. I cringed every time I thought about the way the same rough, strong hands that roamed my body might be used to destroy another human being.
I had to be honest – I loved a killer. A thug. An utter bastard who wasn't afraid to wreck and ruin with the worst pain he could think up.
And I couldn't stop loving him, even though the rational part of my brain was screaming, telling me how deep I'd gone down this rabbit hole.
“Rabid, stop. I'm doing this for a friend and the club. She deserves to find out what's going on, and it might help the rest of you too.”
“You're wading goddamned deep into club biz, and you know it's not my call, Christa.” There was a long pause, and then a loud, masculine sigh. “Fuck it. Just for you, I'll call the Prez.”
My heart sputtered. Missy and I shared a long, excited look, trying to listen anxiously as Rabid presumably turned away and hit the phone.
“Fuck,” he grunted, a few minutes later.
“What is it?” Christa asked.
“No answer. Look, I'm sorry, baby, but I can't do shit as long as I can't get in touch with Blackjack. I've got my orders, and I'm holding you here. All of you. The Veep'll have my fucking head on a pike if I let you chicks out and shit happens.”
“And you don't think something might be happening to the club – something we could prevent?”
“Ah, come the fuck on! Don't pout. Don't give me some shit about magic solutions either. You don't have a clue what we're dealing with, and that's the way it outta be.”
For some reason, I cracked a smile through the thick of it. Missy exhaled a sharp breath, shaking her head.
“I thought you were supposed to take matters into your own hands when there's an emergency? Aren't you man enough to decide what's best?”
I could practically see him wagging a finger in her face. “Don't. Now, you're stepping on my damned toes, and it's not gonna get you anywhere.”
“I'm not trying to get anywhere. I'm trying to save some fucking lives!” Christa's voice cracked, high and strained. “I know you'd never let anyone put new scars on me again. I know what it's like to be tortured. Don't you think I've had all the dangers that come with wearing your brand burned into me for life? Don't you think that maybe I understand what I'm dealing with?”
“Baby, I know you do. It's not like that –“
She cut him off. “Exactly. It's about wasting precious time. What if Blackjack doesn't call you back until it's too late? What if men die because Norm could've told you something critical?”
Another long silence. Then, at last, I watched him throw his hands up.
“Ah, fuck! Get your shit together right now. We'll go to the damned hospital, but I'm escorting you the whole way with two prospects. Missy stays here with the kid. I'll give you girls an hour before we're back at this house. Not one second more, understand?”
She answered him with a wet, happy smack of lips, and then I heard her feet pounding up the stairs. I grabbed my purse and flung the door open before she'd caught up to us.
“You sure you're okay to do this alone?” Christa asked in the waiting room outside the ICU, bathing me in soft, concerned eyes.
“I have to. We've got – what? – forty minutes? I need to make the most of this.”
I swallowed, letting her wrap her arms around my neck one more time before I followed the nurse waiting for me outside the huge steel doors.
Walking in there felt like going into a tomb. The ward was freakishly quiet, so dark and silent and severe I imagined a person could hear death's footsteps if they listened closely enough.
Norm sat up in his bed, his jaws wired shut with some massive apparatus around his head. His arms and legs were both in slings.
When he saw me, his eyes lit up. Surprising, especially when his system must've been pumped full of pain meds.
“Oh my God. How did you even pick up the phone?”
He made a sound, halfway between a grunt and a sigh. My heart sank.
It must've been a nurse who'd made the calls, tried to get me over here.
Whatever he wanted, I didn't have a clue how the hell he was going to tell me anything.