Chapter 25 #2
“Don’t,” I said before he could even start in on me.
“I wasn’t going to say anything.” He held his hands up.
“Bullshit,” I glared.
“Actions speak louder than words, Hud,” he told me. “You’re here.”
“Not protecting her?” I snarled at the insinuation I’d abandoned her.
“No, you stupid dick, you’re getting him back for her. She has enough assholes protecting her. This is what means the most to her and you’re doing it for her.”
I clenched my jaw and looked out of the window. I didn’t enjoy hearing that. I didn’t want to know how much it meant to Waverley that I was getting back the guy she’d been dating for the last year.
“She’s only scared for him because she feels responsible. It changes nothing that has happened with you and her.”
“I don’t give a shit,” I told him, picking up my coffee.
“Right, that was so convincing.”
“Cut it out,” I told him. “I don’t need to hear any of this. I have a job to do and the last thing I need is a heart to heart about my feelings. Or lack thereof.”
He huffed a laugh. “Keep telling yourself that. You think none of us have seen the way you are with her? Jesus, man, you fucking claimed her. To King.”
“Fuck off, War.”
He gripped his coffee cup tighter, weighing up his options. I wasn’t above punching him in his face to shut him up if he kept pushing me, and War was well aware of that.
“She doesn’t need to be hurt any more than she already has,” he eventually said.
“Yeah?” I growled. “Neither do I.”
He stared at me in silence for a few seconds before the server offering a top up interrupted us.
My words hung in the air, and I hated I had put that out there.
I didn’t like what I was feeling right now.
Jealousy was not something I was comfortable with.
Jealous of some poor jerk who’d been pulled into something he knew nothing about and had his ass beaten.
I’d spent a lot of time with Waverley the last few days, sure.
I had claimed her, shown her my tattoo that I got only a year after she left with no one knowing, but none of that meant shit if she wanted to go back to this guy.
She could up and leave at a moment’s notice and where the hell did that leave me?
I’d let my feelings get involved when I knew it was a mistake and I could end up paying for it.
My phone rang as the server was pouring out the coffee and I glared at her till she got the picture and walked away. I answered just as Ballistic returned to the table. It was Dirt.
“Something weird is going on,” he opened with.
“Meaning?” I felt my gut clench. I wanted to ask if Waverley was okay, but I could feel War’s eyes boring into me, could still hear his words reverberating around my head.
“Sheriff got back to us. One victim in the crash was Declan McCoy. They took him to the local hospital as soon as the EMTs got to the scene. He’s alive, but critical is all the information we could get.”
“What the fuck?” I muttered. “What about the rest of the people in the crash? Any of them Kingsmen?”
“Sheriff hasn’t gotten full details on the two that died yet. Two other people were taken to the hospital, a married couple. They’re both in serious condition too, but they weren’t in the same car as Declan. They think there was one runner though, the driver of the car Declan was in.
“They’re out searching because he might be hurt.
Or, if he caused the accident and ran, the cops are going to want to find him.
This could be one hell of a lucky break for us, if the assholes were moving him and got involved in an accident, got their asses killed or about to be picked up by the cops. We just need to check on Declan.”
“Which hospital?” I asked.
Dirt gave me the name and address and I got up, sliding out of the booth, telling him I’d call him back once we knew.
I filled Ballistic and War in as we headed back out of the restaurant, War dropping a handful of bills for the coffee.
Programming the GPS, we followed the directions to the hospital.
Despite the turmoil we were all feeling around the uncertainty of what was going on, we kept level heads when we entered the hospital.
Ballistic told the woman at the front desk that Declan McCoy was his son and he’d been in an accident.
Kansas had given us all of Declan’s information, so he could reel off his address and date of birth, which matched up with the info the hospital had, making us more convincing.
They let us go back to speak to a doctor, once Ballistic explained that War and I were Declan’s brother and cousin.
She was an older woman with greying hair, pulled back into a messy ponytail.
She looked tired, as if she’d been working for too long.
She had kind eyes, and she was polite to us as she ushered us into a private waiting room with a vending machine and a few plastic chairs to sit on.
“I’m afraid your son is in a quite serious condition. We’ve placed him into a medically induced coma because of some severe trauma to his head.”
War stiffened beside me. It wasn’t too long ago we’d heard those exact words about Connor. The doctor mistakenly read it for concern over Declan and gave War a sympathetic smile.
“It is all for his benefit. We just need to ensure that there is no serious swelling in the brain… But…”
“What?” I asked at her hesitation to continue.
“Some injuries your son suffered aren’t consistent with a road traffic accident.”
“What do you mean?” Ballistic asked, his eyes on the doctor, but he knew this could become an issue. If the doctor suspected something else had gone on before the accident, she would tell the police. But I didn’t give a shit about any investigation after the fact.
“Well, it looked as if he received some injuries prior to the crash. It was as if he had been savagely beaten,” she said with a pained look. She was expecting us to question that, but no one did.
“Can we see him?” I got to my feet. The doctor looked up at me and I don’t think she liked the look on my face very much. “Please?” I added. “I just need to see him.”
“I think the police will want to speak with you about what happened to him. I know they are speaking with the other victims of the accident.”
That was the last thing we needed.
“If you could let us see him first, then we will meet with the police. We just need to see him, to process this,” War told her, turning on his patented charm.
It wasn’t working the way it usually did, but it played on her sympathy, and she realized we couldn’t help the police as long as Declan was out of it anyway, so she agreed.
She led us out of the room and along a few corridors until we came to the ITU area.
She had us wash our hands, which I did impatiently.
Then I followed her into a private room.
It was dark inside. The beeping and whirring of machinery filled the air, and I had a flashback to Connor’s room that made me falter.
I glanced at the doctor, and she gave me an encouraging nod.
Ballistic had entered the room too, scanning all the corners, assessing the place. War, on the other hand, was lingering out in the hall. To keep an eye out for the police, but also because this was very reminiscent of what happened to Connor.
“Like I said earlier, the swelling was significant, but we believe we have taken the right course of action to ensure he has a better chance.” She droned on about some more facts and benefits of induced comas, but I’d heard it all before, and all in relation to someone I gave a shit about.
I looked down at the man in the bed. The last time I saw him, he’d had his tongue down Waverley’s throat and his hands on her ass.
They were now wrapped up in thick gauze, a cast on his left arm to his shoulder.
His head was bandaged, and his face looked unrecognizable.
Both eyes swollen shut, his nose was broken beneath the mask over it.
They’d not had time to clean him up because there was still blood in his hair, down the side of his neck. He had taken a serious beating and there was no disguising that, just like the doctor said.
The doctor explained he had several broken ribs, a broken pelvis and arm and they were concerned about his back too.
His spleen ruptured, and they had conducted an arterial embolization to stop the internal bleeding, monitoring him for infection which they would treat immediately if it occurred.
The kid was fucked up, but he was alive.
And he was safe from the Kingsmen now. That was all I cared about.
I thanked the doctor, and we left the room.
She turned to watch us, but we didn’t give her time to stop us.
I got the impression she intended to shout us back about speaking to the police, but suspected she could sense something about us and decided she’d leave it alone. We headed out of the hospital.
“He’s fucked up, but he’s alive,” I remarked. “We need people down here to keep an eye on him, but he’s in the clear as far as the Kingsmen are concerned. We should get his actual family here to make sure he’s moved back to North Carolina as soon as he’s able.”
“Felix and Raptor are a few miles out of town. I’ll get them to come sit on him,” War said, taking out his phone. “We’ll stay till they get here, then head back. I’ll let Wave know he’s okay.”
I didn’t answer. I just turned to Ballistic, who was standing by the truck looking back towards the hospital. “What do you think happened?” I asked him.
“We need the police report, but that won’t be ready yet. We could stay and scope the place out after the cops leave, see if they’re around, pick them up,” he murmured. Even though we were outside, it was ingrained in us to keep business away from anyone overhearing.