Cook (The Ridge MC Book 4)

Chapter 29

Maddie

My knuckles were white, fingernails digging into my palms. I put more pressure on my hands, no longer feeling any pain. I barely felt anything at all as time slipped by. The bright fluorescent lights flickered overhead, and I no longer knew if it was day or night. I barely knew who was sitting beside me or talking to me, trying to force food or water past my lips. My stomach did a flip, and I was about to vomit again.

“You really should eat,” someone said in a motherly tone.

“Give it up,” said a man, his tone harsh. “It’s not going to work.”

“Only Cook worked,” said another voice.

These were the reminders that I wasn’t alone as I waited for the doctor to come back.

As I waited to find out if Cook was dead, I considered the ways I could join him. The easiest seemed like the hospital roof. I would jump, and if there was an afterlife, Cook and I would be reunited. If there wasn’t an afterlife, that would be okay.

Because there wouldn’t be a life without Daddy, anyway.

“Maybe while we’re here, you should seek some help,” someone said.

In the back of my mind, something told me I should be offended, but I was too numb.

“She’s getting help in the Ridge,” replied a womanly voice. Was that Mel? Roni? Even Bou knew I had started meeting with Ava for therapy.

“It doesn’t look like it’s helping.” Another man. Their voices all sounded the same, merging into my memories of how men used to tell me they would make me feel so good or how they could be the best fuck of my life as they raped me.

“Should someone go ask at the nurse’s station if there’s any news from the doctor?” asked a woman.

I felt the eyes leave me, and the weight vanish from my shoulders. They were now distracted by Cook—as they should’ve been all along. I released the breath I’d been holding and hung my head.

“The doctors are working on Cook,” said a guy. “We shouldn’t distract them.”

“But they’ve been in there for a while,” said another.

“Isn’t that better than them coming out and say he’s dead?”

I flinched. Cook, dead. Me, alone.

“Don’t say that,” hissed a woman.

“I’m trying to be positive.”

Their voices blurred together, not connected to anybody.

“Fuck off.”

“Can you all just not? We need to be focused on other things right now.”

“We’re just talking, Bou.”

“This isn’t the time.”

“We’re just trying to cut the tension. Do something useful.”

“Is that what happened with Massimo? How the fuck did that get out of hand?”

“You don’t need to know.”

“I’m patched. It’s my business, too. Wilde?”

“Everyone, pipe down. We got company.”

I dragged my eyes up, hoping for Cook’s doctor, but instead, I faced the man who had cornered me in Serenity. Massimo walked in, two of his dark clad men behind him. Thank God, I didn’t recognize them, but then again, I wouldn’t since most of the men who’d touched me or raped and scarred me were faceless.

Massimo held his arm out like a gentleman, and Vivi Cook had her arm slung through the crook of his elbow. She was dressed in a fancy dress for an older woman, and she didn’t look scared at all, not even that her son was in emergency surgery after being shot.

“Why don’t you sit next to Maddie?” Massimo inclined his hand toward me, and I thought about sinking my teeth into the hand that drew near my face.

As Vivi settled onto the hard seat beside me, I resisted the urge to curl my knees up to my chest. Mel was on my other side, glaring at the newcomers.

Vivi touched my arm but swayed in her seat. She wasn’t in her right mind. What had they done to her? She stared up at the ceiling, focusing on the blinding fluorescent lights. Tears leaked from the corner of her eyes, but she didn’t look away.

Maybe crazy women were what Cook knew. Why he drew me to him. What he dealt with best, because looking at his mom right now, I saw a reflection of me.

But something said her situation wasn’t going to change. That she’d been trapped there since before. I thought back to that day in her house when she saw the drawing of Cook’s father, and it dawned on me. Vivi had been trapped inside herself since his death. She cooked. She cleaned. She obsessed over the house, but she never really changed over time or learned to overcome what she lost of herself.

Tentatively, I reached out and took Vivi’s hand. This was the closest I could be to Cook, and I was the closest she would be to her son right now. She squeezed my hand like maybe deep down she understood. Her body was a shell and her mind had been broken like mine. She didn’t need to tell me for me to feel the kinship we shared. Years of abuse did that to people. But with someone like Cook in our lives, they wouldn’t break our spirits for good. Only losing my anchor could do that.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” demanded Wilde, stepping toward Massimo.

“I thought Cook would want his mother,” said Massimo simply.

“You shouldn’t have come after all the shit you dragged us into,” said Wilde.

“It’s business,” said Massimo. Then, he lowered his voice, but not quite enough to keep me from overhearing. “Given your background, I thought you would understand the nature of crime families.”

Wilde bit back a laugh. “Us going to that meeting was fucking suicide.”

“I knew I wouldn’t die.”

“And the rest of us?” asked Celt, standing beside Wilde with his arms crossed.

Massimo shrugged. “Business. Speaking of such, have you made your decision?”

Wilde glanced back toward his MC brothers and Bou, but Angel, Celt, and Bou were already standing with him. “We need some more time on the arranged marriage part. There are options. But if Cook dies, the deal is off.”

Massimo frowned, but light danced in his eyes like this was all some game. “You understand backing out will now lead to war?” He flashed a large ring. I didn’t know enough about Mafia ways—or the MC for that matter—to know what he meant, but Wilde and the others shared a look.

Wilde dragged his eyes across Bou, landing on her belly, and a shiver ran through me. I was caught in politics I wanted no part of. Nor did I want Cook to be involved. He was fighting for his life, yet the Mafia was in his hospital, threatening his brothers and family.

Massimo could go fuck himself.

“Your intention is clear,” said Wilde, working his jaw, “but I’ve dealt with gangs in LA my whole fucking life. And you’re here with only two guys as backup.” He snorted a laugh. “Don’t make us dig you a shallow grave.”

A small whimper escaped my lips as Wilde and Massimo continued to stare each other down, trading threats.

Bou stood, staring at me with sad eyes, and said, “Go somewhere else to have your accursed business meeting.” Mel pushed to her feet, joining Angel in blocking me off from all the posturing.

Roni sank into the seat beside me. “Listen to me, Maddie.”

My head was starting to spin again, the loss and shock sending me into a downward spiral, but Roni touched me and said, “Listen to me, Maddie. Focus on me. Everything will be okay. Stay with me.”

I grabbed onto Vivi for reassurance. Maybe the broken two of us could be one whole and strong person for Cook. Maybe she was just what I needed to get through this. I gave her a warm smile and faced Roni.

“Is there a problem here?” asked a new voice, louder than everyone else in the room, and I snapped my head up. A doctor stood in the doorway wearing scrubs. “This is a hospital, so if there’s going to be any altercations, please take it elsewhere. Or I could have security escort you outside.”

The group parted, facing the doctor, Wilde still glaring at Massimo.

The doctor sighed. “I’m here to give an update on Mr. Cook.”

“We were just leaving,” said Massimo, and he and his goons slipped out behind the doctor. “We’ll be in touch, Prez.”

Once they left, I pushed to my feet, almost stumbling toward the doctor. I begged, “Is he okay? What happened?”

The doctor looked past me. “Is Morris Cook’s next of kin here?”

A sob rumbled through me. I loved Cook—he loved me. Didn’t I count? Bou put her arm around my shoulders and looked into my eyes then over to Vivi.

I stepped over to where Cook’s mom was sitting, offering her a hand to help her up from the plastic chair. Peering up at the doctor, I said, “This is Vivian Cook. Morris’s mom.”

“Ma’am.” The doctor turned to her. “We were able to stop the bleeding, and your son’s condition is stable. He is being moved into recovery, and you can see him in a few minutes. The surgery went well.” That was all the doctor said.

Vivi looked up at me, her brows drawn together and tears glossing over the brown in her eyes. The same brown as Cook’s. I pulled her into my arms and squeezed her tightly until her hands wrapped around my waist.

The doctor’s words were all I needed to hear, but I whispered to both myself and her, “He’s going to be okay.”