Chapter 10
10
Trigger
C hase was almost unrecognizable. Covered in his own blood, bruises, and cuts, there wasn’t a part of him unmarred by the sons of bitches who had taken him from me. He’d only managed to stay awake long enough to say a couple of sentences, but even those had been heavily slurred. He was too pale and clearly had lost too much blood.
He needed a fucking hospital. And while the club didn’t usually fuck around with hospitals—especially hospitals we had no control over—due to all the questions and risk of someone running their mouths to the wrong person, I couldn’t be picky. Not with Chase’s life hanging in the balance. If I didn’t get him serious medical help, he wasn’t going to survive. Chase’s injuries couldn’t wait.
And his survival was non-fucking-negotiable.
I yanked open the door of one of the vans parked outside and eased Chase into the passenger seat before reclining it back so I didn’t have to worry about him falling forward. Quickly shrugging off my cut, I pulled my shirt over my head before pulling it over Chase’s head. It barely covered his cock and ass, but it would do. It was better than nothing, at least. After tugging my cut back on, I rounded the front of the van and slid into the driver’s seat.
Yanking my burner from my pocket, I dialed Scorpion’s number, then quickly began working on hot-wiring this fucking piece of shit vehicle.
“Trigger?” Scorpion asked.
“Yeah,” I grunted, muttering a curse beneath my breath. I hated having to hot-wire vehicles. It was such a pain in the ass and definitely not one of my strengths. “I’ve got Chase. He’s in bad shape.” The van rumbled to life. Thank fuck . I quickly shifted it into drive and peeled out of the parking lot, heading for the hospital I’d seen a few miles away a couple of days ago. “I’m taking him to the nearest hospital.”
“Are you sure?—”
“Scorpion,” I growled, my patience non-fucking existent, “I don’t give a fuck about club policy. If I don’t get him to a goddamn hospital, he’s not going to make it, and that’s not an option, you got me? I’ll deal with this. I need to call Johnston. Just wanted to let you know he’s alive.”
Without waiting for his response, I ended the call, then dialed Johnston. He grunted but didn’t say a word when he answered. Probably waiting to make sure I hadn’t been compromised. I was sure he hadn’t been happy I’d gone offline without his consent, but he also knew if anyone could find Chase, it would be me.
And I had. I wouldn’t ever fail this club, but I’d also never fail the man I was in love with.
“Johnston, I need you to pull some strings,” I said. “I’ve got Chase, but he’s in bad fucking shape. He needs a hospital.”
“Goddammit,” Johnston growled. He knew if I was demanding a hospital, it was bad. Really fucking bad. “Give me the name of the hospital. I’ll get in touch with the hospital administrator. You do not go into that hospital until they call you, understand? We don’t need the additional heat on top of this Russian bullshit we’ve got going on. Clear?”
“Clear, Prez. I’m taking him to the nearest one—Texas Regional.”
“Be on the lookout for a call,” he ordered, and then, he was gone, the line going dead.
Chase moaned in pain in the passenger seat. When I looked over at him, he was still unconscious, though his face was screwed up in pain. Reaching over, I placed my hand on his bare thigh, my stomach threatening to revolt at all the blood and cuts I could feel beneath my calloused palm. If I could, I’d take his pain and make it my own. I’d heal him, even if it meant giving myself the exact same wounds.
There wasn’t a damn thing in this world I wouldn’t do for him or Sophia. I hoped like fuck he knew that. That he was aware of that the entire time he was being tortured.
I was always coming for him.
My phone rang just as I could see the hospital up ahead. I quickly answered the call, staying silent. I had a feeling it was the hospital calling, but I wouldn’t take any chances.
“My name is Margaret Hanson,” a woman spoke when I didn’t say a word. “Johnston Trim called and asked for assistance to keep an individual’s stay here… under wraps. You can bring him in through the ambulance entrance. We’ll have a gurney waiting for you.”
With that, she ended the call. I turned into the hospital parking lot and headed for the ambulatory entrance, where, sure enough, a doctor and two nurses were waiting with a gurney. I quickly shifted the van into park and got out. Chase’s eyes were opening as I opened his door, and he frowned at me. “What… Where are we?” he croaked, squinting his eyes against the dim lighting of the van.
“We’re at a hospital,” I told him. “Johnston knows, and he’s already arranged things.” I wasn’t sure just how lucid he was, but if he was lucid enough to understand a hospital was usually a no-no for club members, I didn’t want him panicking.
I unbuckled his seatbelt and lifted him into my arms. I grunted beneath his weight now that I didn’t have adrenaline pumping through my veins, but other than that, I showed no sign of weakness.
“Don’t leave me,” he mumbled before his eyes shut again, darkness dragging him back under. I clenched my jaw and gently set him on the gurney.
“What room are you taking him to?” I demanded.
“Triage room four,” the doctor told me as the nurses quickly wheeled Chase away. “Come through this entrance. I’ll let the staff know to send you directly to his room.”
With that, he turned and headed back inside. I jumped back into the van and called Elias, one of the patched members of the Texas Charter. He answered on the third ring as I was backing the van into a parking stall. “Yeah?” he grunted, sounding half-asleep.
“I need you to come pick up this van.” I rattled off the color, make, and model as I got out. When I rounded the front, I gave him the license plate number. “Make it disappear.”
“Got it,” he answered. “I assume you have Chase? How is he?”
I sighed as I headed for the ambulatory doors, my feet quickly eating up the distance. I needed to get back to him. “Yeah, I’ve got him. He’s not good, but he’ll pull through, I think.” He had to. I couldn’t fathom a world where Chase didn’t exist. “I need to go.”
I hung up before he could respond and entered the hospital. Monitors were beeping. Codes were being called. There was a constant hum of people talking behind closed curtains. I spotted triage room four just as a nurse was making her way to me, but I bypassed her, completely ignoring her, and pushed open the door, thankful they’d given Chase a more private room.
“He’s had a lot of blood loss,” the doc immediately began as I stepped into the room. “He needs blood.”
“What’s his blood type?” I asked.
“O-positive,” one of the nurses answered. “But we have?—”
“I’m a match,” I told them as I dropped into the chair beside him. “Take from me.”
The next few hours passed by in a blur. After giving blood, I took a nap for a couple of hours, then washed up and changed into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt one of the nurses had brought me from lost and found. Chase was in a regular room now, still unconscious, but he was expected to make a full recovery. That announcement had damn near made me weak-kneed.
Once he was awake and could remain awake, I was under orders from Johnston to get him back home, where he could recover and be protected. The club was out for blood for what had happened to him, and once he was safe within clubhouse walls, I would be, too.
A CT scan showed a major concussion, and the doctor warned me he might have some memory loss. He had stress fractures in his ribs, thighs, and his knees. His throat would take a while to heal from all the screaming he’d done as well as the chains they’d used around his neck to keep him pinned to the table. They’d also had to reset his nose. His chest was a fucking mess; the Russians had cut their coat of arms into his flesh. The nurses had sewn it up, along with most of his other wounds, but they warned me his chest would scar.
Just as I’d assumed they’d wanted to happen. They wanted Chase to forever be a marked man, which could be a death sentence if the wrong people found out.
But the worst fucking news of all had been the rectal bleeding.
From being raped .
It’d taken every bit of my restraint not to absolutely lose my shit. I should’ve taken my time killing those mother fuckers. I should have made it painful. If I could, I’d bring them back from the dead and torture every single one of them, fucking each of them up the ass with a goddamn baseball bat.
Chase should’ve never known that pain.
My phone vibrated in my lap, and I sighed, lifting it to answer Scorpion’s call.
“Yeah?” I grunted, running my eyes over Chase’s face. The medicine they were injecting through his IV kept him mostly painless, so he was at least getting some much-needed rest finally. I hated seeing him in pain. Hopefully, the club could get him something good once he was out of here so he could somewhat function normally until he was completely healed.
“Mark and Tango went in search of your bike and brought it back to the clubhouse. They found Chase’s bike there, too. It’s crumpled. I think he crashed.” I swallowed thickly. He could’ve fucking died . The mere thought made me physically ache with the phantom loss of him. “Mark and Reese will come pick you up when Chase can come home.”
“Thanks,” I muttered.
“Any updates?”
I sighed. “Nah. He’s stable, though. Gonna feel weak for a while. Got a lot of injuries. But a full recovery is expected.”
“Good,” Scorpion murmured. “Keep me updated.”
With that, he ended the call. Leaning forward, I gripped Chase’s hand in both of mine and pressed my forehead to his knuckles.
“I’m so goddamn sorry I didn’t find you sooner,” I rasped. That was a guilt that would sit on my shoulders for the rest of my fucking life.
I now knew how Chase felt when he’d found Sophia bloody, beaten, and naked on the floor of her store. When he hadn’t gotten to her in time.
Just like Chase always saw Sophia’s blood coating his hands, I’d forever see his on mine.