Chapter 26 Hades
Hades
What the fuck just happened?
My Harley is in pieces in the middle of the country road, and I’m covered in road rash from laying it down. How I didn’t get shot is beyond me, but a win is a win.
I frantically search for Willow as I struggle to stand. The split-second between the gunshot and her weight disappearing from behind me sent a fear like I’ve never felt straight through my soul.
“Willow!” I shout, trying to see through the haze of pain. “Willow, baby, yell out for me!”
Dammit, why’d I have to take a country road?
I could go for some traffic right about now.
Reaching into my cut pocket, I pull out my cell and breathe a sigh of relief when I see it’s still in one piece. I hit Stitch’s contact, then the speakerphone icon, and try to stand while I wait for him to answer.
“Yo, Pres,” he says after the fourth ring.
“Trace my location and get here,” I bark.
Once I’m on my feet and not about to fall over, I turn around and immediately spot Willow in a heap on the side of the road.
“Willow,” I cry.
“Pres, what’s going on?” Stitch demands.
“We were just shot at,” I say. “I’m fine, but Willow’s unresponsive.”
I drop to my knees next to her, ignoring the agony of landing on rocks.
“We’re on our way,” Zodiac snaps, and I realize Stitch put me on speaker. “I’ll have Levins bring the van for easier transport.”
“Yeah, fine, whatever. Just fucking get here.” I end the call and let my cell fall to the ground.
The pool of blood spreading out from Willow’s side is alarming, so I take my tattered cut off, and then my shirt so I can press it to the wound to stop the flow. With my free hand, I check for a pulse, and sag with relief when I find a faint one.
“Thank fuck” I mumble.
When the bullets started flying, I tried to get a license plate number but only managed a partial. I just hope that’s enough to track the bastard down.
Time passes in a blur, and I must start to doze off because I jerk at the sound of motorcycles approaching.
“C’mon, Willow,” I plead, adjusting my hand on the hole in her side. “Wake up for me, Princess.”
Zodiac and Butcher skid to a stop and hop off their bikes to run toward us, and Levins and Stitch park the van behind them before racing to Willow’s side.
“Son of a bitch,” Zodiac snarls. “Who did this?”
“I don’t know,” I reply absently. “I only got the last four digits. Six-five-eight-one.”
“We’ll run it when we get back to the clubhouse.”
“Pres, I’ve gotta take her shirt off, so don’t kill me, okay?” Stitch says, cutting off the clothing and tossing it aside. He digs gauze out of his bag and hands it to me, along with some tape. “Here. Pack the wound as best you can and secure it. I’m gonna get an IV started.”
Willow’s eyes flutter when I start to remove my shirt to replace it with the gauze, and she groans in pain.
“I know,” I say. “I’m so sorry, but I gotta do it.”
It takes all of a minute to get it done, and Zodiac lifts her into his arms to carry her to the van while Stitch carries the IV bag. Levins helps me to my feet, and I lean on him for support.
“You just can’t stay out of trouble, can ya, Hades?” he teases, doing his best to lighten the mood.
“What fun would that be?” I counter.
The ride back to the clubhouse is agonizingly long.
Our van is equipped with removable medical equipment, and I was thrilled to see that Stitch took the time to load it up before coming to us.
Willow is now hooked up to a heart monitor, a blood pressure cuff, and the IV.
Hearing the steady beep of the machines soothes something in me.
She’s alive.
Levins slams on the brakes when we reach the clubhouse, and it takes all of them to get Willow and me inside and down the hall to the medical room.
“I don’t see an exit wound,” Stitch says after rolling Willow from side to side on the gurney. “While I do an ultrasound to see if I can find the bullet, someone needs to get you cleaned up, Pres.”
“I’ll do it,” Zodiac says and begins to gather supplies to clean and bandage my road rash.
“I’ll go let everyone know you’re both okay,” Levins states as he walks out of the room.
“He’s right, Stitch, right?” I ask, dreading the answer. “We’re both okay?”
“Yes.”
I can’t tell if he’s lying to keep me from burning the world down, and I don’t have time to examine that one-syllable answer because Zodiac distracts me as he works to get debris out of all the scrapes on my arms.
“Take your pants off,” my friend demands a few minutes later.
“Excuse me?”
“I’ve gotta clean the rashes on your legs, too. And don’t try to say you’re fine because I can see the blood and pebbles through your shredded jeans.”
“Before you do that,” Stitch says. “Go get someone to assist me with Willow.”
Zodiac stumbles backward when I shoot to my feet.
“Why do you need help? What’s wrong?” I demand.
“She’s got a bullet dangerously close to her hip that I need to remove, and I need someone to hold this wand to her belly while I do that so I can also monitor the baby’s heartbeat and ensure it’s not in distress during surgery.”
“Zodiac, go get some—” Stitch’s words finally register. “Wait. Did you say baby?”
“I did. I’m guessing she’s about six weeks along. Congrats.”
Zodiac slaps me on the back, and I wince at the action. I might not need surgery like Willow, but I’m damn sore.
“You’re sure this is safe for the baby?” I demand while we wait for my VP to return with help.
“I’m sure.”
“Should we take her to a hospital? Maybe that would be safer.”
“All of a sudden, you don’t trust me, Pres?” Stitch comments darkly.
“I trust you,” I insist.
“Then let me do what needs done,” he gripes. “And let Zodiac finish cleaning your sorry ass up when he gets back because I don’t need you and all that road gunk near my patient.”
“Remind me to punch you when this is all over,” I snarl.
“Will do, Pres.”
“And Stitch?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”