“How about two pounds of steel and polymer, and fifteen 9mm rounds?” I ask as my fingers close around the grip of my Glock 19 semi-auto, whipping it from my purse in a blur of motion. Within seconds—seconds—I have the muzzle of the gun focused directly between the eyes of Scrubs, the outlaw nurse.
The man stares at me slack-jawed for several long seconds.
“Back off my brother or I'll blow your brains straight out the back of your skull,” I say as Sully now takes a turn to gape at me. Yeah, that's right—Pint-Size is packing heat. “Because I don't know about you, but if you shoot him, you still die.” I shrug my shoulders. “If it's worth it to you, then by all means, proceed.”
Inside, I'm shaking, but it's not fear. Right now, I'm just pissed the hell off. That thing with Mia in the parking lot … that really shook me to my core. I felt so helpless then; I don't feel helpless right now.
“Drop your weapon and walk out of the room. If you do, then you can get a bit of a head start before I call the authorities.”
Scrubs stares at me for several long seconds before scowling and taking a step back towards the door, his gun still pointed at my brother. I can see the rage roiling around under his skin, but I can also see the cowardice glinting in his eyes. This man isn't going to risk himself for this job, not by a long shot.
We keep our weapons trained on their targets until the door is unlocked and Scrubs is ducking through it, letting it slam behind him as he disappears, leaving his cart and the food behind. I take a deep breath, the smell of the pad Thai I brought for Sully teasing my nostrils as I close my eyes to steady myself. The gun drops by my side, but I don't loosen my grip.
“Lyric?” Sully asks, his voice strained.
I open my eyes, glance down at the sleek, black body of the Glock and tuck it back into my purse. When I raise my gaze to my brother's, he's still gaping at me and his shoulders are trembling. Looking into his eyes, I can see that he really, truly believed he was going to die tonight.
We stare at each other for a long moment, time stretching thin and brittle between us. For a second there, I think we're going to have a moment, that Sully might actually acknowledge me for having my shit together.
But no, of course not.
I purse my lips as he straightens up suddenly and runs his fingers through his hair.
“Go the visitor's desk and have the nurse call security.” He holds out his good hand. “And give me the phone; I'm calling the police.”
“You're not calling the cops,” I tell him, hoping that I'm betting on the right horse here. There's no way the hospital's got enough manpower to watch those security feeds twenty-four seven; nobody outside the club has to know about this. I glance back up at the round eye of the camera in the corner.
“Who the hell else would we call?” he snaps as I take my cell out and give him my best no-nonsense look. It's never worked before, but hey, there's a first time for everything.
“The Alpha Wolves,” I tell him and press send before he can stop me.
I burst into the hospital like a bat out of hell, my boots loud against the polished linoleum floors.
“Visiting hours …” the nurse starts as I flash her my best grin and toss her a two fingered salute.
“Hey there, love. Beautiful evening, isn't it? I've got to see a lady about towing a car.” I continue on before she can get out another word. Everyone in town knows the Wolves have an auto repair shop. Can't get too much flak for picking up a customer, now can I?
My heart is pounding behind my rib cage as I shove my way into Sully Rentz's hospital room, watching with grim satisfaction as he cringes away from me and clenches his jaw in anger.
“Royal,” Lyric says, and I'm pleased to see her voice isn't near as angry as it was when she left the clubhouse. I pause in front of her, my chest tight, my fingers curling into fists. She looks so fucking perfect right now. I feel like I need to kiss that mouth, wrap that curvy body in my arms and pull her close. I want to protect her even though it's pretty damn obvious she doesn't need protecting.
Instead, I flash her a grin and run some fingers through my hair.
“You ran off the punk with your Glock? Color me impressed.”
Lyric gives me a look that I can't seem to get a read on and takes a deep breath.
“Like I said, he was dressed as an employee, even had a hospital badge with his name and face on it. Seems like it'd be safe to assume he really does work here. If your boys can't find him,” she continues, all businesslike and stern, “then I will. Wouldn't take much sleuthing to get to the bottom of this one.”
She's trying not to look at me; that much is obvious. I'd love to continue our row from the clubhouse, get this crap figured out, but not in front of her asshole brother. This hurdle we have to jump, it's between me and my old lady.