32. Archer
Chapter 32
Archer
I ride my motorcycle harder than I ever have, speeding across town and risking my life to get there to save hers. The engine roars and I push its limits, begging it to go faster, to not waste another moment.
Skidding to a stop in front of the house where her phone pings she's located inside, I hop off the bike, not bothering to even put the kickstand down before I rush inside, flinging the door so aggressively it buckles on the hinges.
"London," I call out, my chest tight, my fist clenched. I don't have a single weapon but I will kill anyone that stands in the way of getting to her.
She doesn't answer and that only terrifies me more. What if I didn't make it in time? What if this was a trap and I walked straight into it?
I poke my head around the corner of one room, not finding her, and moving on to the next, searching frantically for her.
My sights land on London, tied to a chair, her head hung loosely, blood covering her shirt. I run over and kneel in front of her, my stomach coiling into knots. "London," I whisper, tilting her head up.
Slowly, her eyes flutter open. "Archer?" She blinks a few times. "You're really here?"
"Of course I'm here. You think I wouldn't come for you?" I make quick work of freeing her arms, my anger rising at the marks that remain once she's untied. I hate that this happened. I hate that I wasn't here to stop it.
London's head sways and she rubs at her forearm. "Let's get out of here." She tries to stand but falls right back down, her hand going to her side. "Oh right, I got shot."
"Let me see." I reach for her shirt, lifting it up, having to peel the fabric from her blood-soaked skin. The bullet went through low and to the side, a clean shot through and through. There was a lot of initial bleeding, but it appears to have coagulated. I force myself not to focus on the bruise forming on her face and logically assess the situation. "I need to get you to a hospital. London, can you look at me?"
She stares right into my eyes, hers red and watery. "Hi."
"Hey, baby." I grab her hands. "I'm going to help you up, okay? I'd carry you but I don't want to put too much pressure on that wound until we know for sure what we're dealing with." If it were up to me, I'd scoop her into my arms and run the entire way to the hospital, but that isn't an option and I can't afford to be careless, not with her.
"Okay." She squeezes my hands, a good sign that she still has strength left in her. London might be small and fragile, but she's resilient as hell, and she has a will to live more powerful than anyone I'd ever met. She'd have to, considering Ricardo Gardella is her father.
Was , I remind myself. Ricardo is dead and I refuse to let him haunt me any longer.
With London's assistance, I guide her out of the room and through the house. I leave her leaning against the porch as I rush to pick up my bike and turn it on, riding it up as far as I can and helping her the rest of the way.
"I'm going to lift you onto the back, okay?"
She nods, releasing her hand on her side and wincing when I pick her up and set her on the back.
I unhook the helmet attached to my bike and slide it over her head, securing the strap faster than I ever have. I climb on the front, careful not to hit her, and turn toward her. "All I need you to do is hold on to me. Can you do that for me, London?"
She leans her head against my back and wraps her arms around me, holding on tightly.
I tap her hands, letting her know I'm going to take off, and once I do, I keep a firm grip on her while driving with one arm. I navigate through the desolate streets until I get to the closest hospital, riding all the way to the entrance and through the giant double doors. I don't stop until I'm idling in front of the registration desk, people from each direction rushing toward us.
A man with a security badge is the first to speak. "Sir, you can't be in here on that. You need to leave immediately."
I glare at him and slip my leg off the bike, not giving a single fuck what he has to say. I ignore him while helping London off the back, sliding her arm over my shoulder and doing everything I can not to make things worse for her.
"Gunshot wound to the abdomen," I tell the woman at the desk. "She needs to be seen immediately."
She hops out of her chair. "I can take her back, but you have to move your bike, sir. This is a hospital, not a parking lot."
"Do you want to keep your job? My last name is Sin."
The security guard who spoke to me puts his arm out to stop another one that rushes over, clearly unsatisfied that the first one didn't do his job. "Brandon, let him through," he tells the man.
"Right this way," the lady at the desk says. She presses a button on a walkie-talkie-looking device. "We've got a level one coming in." She releases the button and looks at me. "Which brother are you?"
"Archer," I tell her.
She brings the device back to her mouth. "Patient is related to Archer Sin. Send in any and all available staff."
Part of me strongly dislikes the weight my name carries, because we gained it from doing terrible things, but in times like this I'm grateful for the destruction that led me to have this power.
London's body goes rigid, and she looks up at me.
"What is it?" I ask, terrified that something even worse has happened I haven't yet discovered.
"I don't have health insurance."
"Shh. You don't need to worry about that. Not anymore." When she doesn't seem to soften her resolve, I scan her face. "What's wrong?"
"I don't want a male doctor."
I nod and reach out to the lady from the desk leading us back. "No male staff. That's an order."
She doesn't question me, she simply gets on her radio and makes sure London's wishes are met.
From there, the next hour is a blur of doctors and nurses coming to and from the room as they check London over and patch her up. The final workup is that she'll be fine in a few weeks when she heals. Most of the damage is superficial with minor internal injury. It appeared a lot worse than it really was, and for that, I am grateful.
I sit next to her in a hospital chair, holding her hand between mine, never having left her through all of this.
"You don't have to stay," London tells me, the color returning to her cheeks after going through what must have been such a traumatic event.
"Do you want me to leave?" I ask her.
London shakes her head. "No."
"Then I'm not going to." I lean down and press my lips to her fingers. "Can we talk about what happened?"
She licks her dry lips and uses the controller next to her to raise the hospital bed. "Yeah."
"Who did this to you?"
London clears her throat. "You're never going to believe me."
I steady my breathing, trying my best to maintain my composure. If it were up to me, the person responsible for hurting her would already be dead, having suffered at my hands and shown no mercy. I want to rip the flesh from their bones, cut them a thousand times over until they beg for my mercy, and just when they think I'm finally going to grant them reprieve, make them suffer even more. At the very least, they deserve that.
"You can trust me, London. I'm sorry I made you feel like you couldn't. I know things are messed up between us, but I still care about you, I always will." I keep hold of her hand, silently begging her to understand how much she means to me even if I don't know how to articulate it myself.
"I don't even believe it," she says, something strange in the cadence of her voice.
"Walk me through what happened, then. We'll make sense of it together."
"I was at work. Andrea was in her office. I asked her if she needed anything else. She told me there was a customer that needed a consultation, and she wasn't going to make it in time, something about paperwork that came through from the health department earlier today. Anyway, she ordered me an Uber to the house. I was supposed to do the sales pitch and hopefully take their order." London breaks, her eyes darting off in the distance like she's recalling what went down.
I wait patiently for her to continue.
"I knocked on the door, a woman called out that it was unlocked. I went in. I had a bad feeling. I was reaching for my phone, to text you to let you know where I was, and that's when the guy came out of nowhere and pressed a chloroform rag to my face. I fought him off and kicked him in the shin. He hit me, knocked me down."
Anger consumes me but I keep it at bay and listen to the rest of the story.
"That's when she told him to tie me up, and he did."
"Who told him? Who was it?"
London looks at me, tears welling in her eyes. "Madison."
"Madison?" I pinch my brows, unsure of what she's implying.
"Madison."
"Madison, who?" I ask her.
" Madison Madison."
"That's impossible, Madison is dead."
London shakes her head, slowly. "Madison isn't dead, Archer. I thought she was, too, but she's not. She's alive and well."
"I don't understand."
"I don't either, but I promise you, I'm not lying."
I rub circles on her hand, desperately trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. I want to believe her, I do, but how can I when Madison died three years ago? I’m sure of it. What reason would she have to lie to me now? But why would Madison fake her death when she was in love with me? We had a future together, why would she throw that away? And why would she out herself, after all this time?
"Archer." London draws my attention. "I'm sorry." She squeezes my hand. "Not just for this, for everything. I should have told you sooner. I can't change what happened between us but I need you to know how sorry I am. I never meant to fall for you. I had no idea who you were when Silver sent me to you. We were both caught by surprise."
"You should rest," I tell her and pat her hand. "We'll talk about this later. Get some rest."
I remain there with her while my mind wanders a million different places, attempting to rationalize the situation, to come up with some kind of logical explanation for what happened to London, to Madison. But nothing makes sense, and the more I ruminate, the more frustrated I become by everything. I hate that I can't figure it out and I hate that I never saw it coming—any of this. I was under the impression Joe Vito was the one I had to be watching out for, not Madison—someone I never expected to come back from the dead. And since it wasn't Vito, why would Madison kidnap and shoot London, unless she's working with Joe? Maybe that's why I didn't see him coming, because he was working in my blind spot. But why would Madison be working with someone as sinister as Joe Vito? What could he have against her that would make her turn her back on me? I would have done anything for her and I thought I made that damn clear. Maybe she didn't love me the same way I loved her. Maybe I didn't know her at all. Because if I did, I would have suspected this, even in the slightest.
Once London dozes to sleep, I pull out my phone, swipe through a few apps, and touch base on a few work-related things. I do what I can to make sure Joe Vito is still in California, but the brunt of my feeds is on my computer at my place, and I'm stuck to limited resources on my phone. The thing buzzes in my hand, Leo's stupid face popping onto the screen. I grow furious with him but answer it anyway.
"What do you want?" I ask him quietly.
"Archer, please. I'm begging you. I need your help."
"I'm not going to help you."
"Arch, bud. It's my birthday, help a guy out."
"It was my birthday the night of the gala, Leo. Did you forget that? You let Blake fucking Manor dance with my girl on my fucking birthday."
"I, I, uh, I didn't know."
"You don't give a shit about my birthday, why should I care about yours?"
Leo sighs, knowing damn well I have him backed into a figurative corner. "I didn't know she was your girl, Arch. I thought you didn't want anything to do with her."
"I'm not talking to you about this."
"Why are you whispering?" Leo asks me.
I almost don't dignify him with a response but decide to anyway. "I'm at the hospital."
"Hospital? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I tell him. "London was shot."
"Holy shit, are you serious? By who?"
"I'll talk to you later." I hang up the phone, not caring at all that I left him on one hell of a cliffhanger. He can’t help me figure out the truth, he's only pretending to care because he wants me to solve his problem, and I can't be bothered with pointless shit like some random hookup stealing something from him. He had it coming and that has nothing to do with me. If he doesn't want to deal with the backlash of a scorned one-night stand, then he shouldn't have one.
London is discharged the next day, told to rest, stay on top of her pain with medication, and take it easy. Typical for a gunshot wound that didn't hit anything vital. I haven't slept a wink, and despite being fatigued, there's no way my mind will be quiet enough for me to find any peace.
Nothing makes sense. Not things with London, my family, and now Madison.
She's supposed to be dead.
A week ago, if someone told me she was alive, I would have been thrilled. Still in disbelief, but grateful she wasn't dead. But now, knowing she's the reason London is in the condition she is, and that she's working for Joe Vito, I can't wrap my head around it. I want to be happy, but I can't find it in me. I have to see her with my own eyes and talk to her, otherwise this is going to consume me.
Seven is leaning against his Rolls-Royce when we step through the hospital doors. He pushes his black shades up his nose and kicks off the ground to come toward us. "Hello, beautiful people!"
I eye him. "What are you on?"
"I'm high on life, baby," Seven says as he comes closer. "How's our girl doing?" He walks beside me and London.
" Our girl?" London glances at him. "When did I become yours, too, Seven?"
"Oh, you know, you're like family now, firecracker." Seven rushes forward to open the door to his car.
"I'm not even going to ask what that nickname is all about." London winces and climbs into the back of his Rolls-Royce, scooting into the seat.
"Give me the keys," I tell Seven. "I'm driving." I reach into my pocket and pull out a key. "Here, this is to my bike, it's parked in the emergency room."
"Whoa, you rode your bike into the hospital? That's sick." He swaps the keys without questioning me, which only adds to the weirdness of the situation. Seven is usually much more unhinged and uncontrollable. Today he's almost…agreeable. "See ya at your place." He slaps my shoulder and takes off in the direction we came from, and because I don't want to deal with figuring out what he's on, I go around to the driver’s side and get in.
I go slow, driving the speed limit and braking easily, to not disturb London too much. Peeking back at her every so often, I grow more furious about things, and even more angry that I can't figure it out. I'm well aware I'm like a broken record at this point, but I'm not often caught by surprise and it unsettles me to my core. Maybe if I can make sense of something , I won't be struggling this badly.
Slowing the Rolls-Royce to a stop, I park in front of our apartment complex and hop out.
Seven sits on the ledge of the steps, dangling his feet with his arms behind him as he leans toward the sky. It's like he's enjoying the sun for the first time in his life. He hops off the spot and rushes over. "Dude, what took you so long? I already parked your bike in the garage like ten minutes ago."
"Precious cargo," I tell him and go around to let London out. I pass him his keys, expecting him to leave, but he follows us into the building and up the stairs. I take a quick look at him as I help London into our apartment and onto the couch in the living room. I kneel beside her. "What do you need?"
London draws in a deep breath, wincing halfway through, and swallows harshly. "I'm fine," she lies.
Seven plops onto the far end of the couch and I glare at him.
"Seriously?" I say.
"What?" Seven shrugs and pulls out his phone, scrolling on it like he's not planning on leaving anytime soon. "Oh, hey, has Leo called you?"
"Only about a hundred times," I tell him and go to the kitchen to get London some water. I fill a glass, bringing it to her a moment later.
"Yeah." Seven brings his foot to rest on his other knee and throws his arm over the back of the couch, his hand dangerously close to London. "He got robbed."
"What? No way," London says, her interest being piqued. "By who?" She repositions herself in Seven's direction and I settle into the chair beside her, my entire body aching to be the one sitting on the couch with her.
"Some chick from the gala." Seven sets his phone down and crosses his arms. "Serves him right."
London takes a drink of the water I brought her. "Wait, what? He didn't go home with Grace? Man, I'm so out of the loop."
"You haven't heard?" Seven says like he's the queen of gossip.
"Um, no, tell me. I need all the tea." London settles into the couch, fully preparing herself for whatever he has to say.
It's strange to witness them getting along, and I hate that I kind of like it. Seven is a fucking lunatic, but he's still my brother, my family, and that means something to me, even if I want to kill him at times.
"Leo went home with this girl from the gala. Didn't get her name. Typical ."
"What did she look like? Any identifying features?" London asks Seven.
He shrugs. "He told me she was hot."
I clear my throat, somehow ready to be nothing like who I am as a person and add to the gossip. "He told me she had jet-black hair."
London cackles, like straight out-of-pocket laughs, and I have no idea what I could have said that was so funny.
"I know exactly who it is. Or well, sort of." London grins. "There was this woman there, I only saw her briefly, but she was stunning , like gay-panic kind of gorgeous."
Seven cuts her off."You're gay?"
"Aren't we all?" London gives him a vague answer and continues. "But anyway, I saw her pickpocketing people, snatching wallets and watches. It was glorious, really. They had no idea." She covers her mouth. "Sorry, this isn't very girl’s girl of me."
"Why didn't you tell someone?" I ask her out of curiosity, not that I really care someone was there stealing from the rich.
"Well, the first guy was a total creep, so I wasn't bothered. And then once she hit a few more targets, I was impressed. Then, she disappeared out of thin air, and I never saw her again." London pauses to catch her breath. "Everyone in that place had far more than they needed, I didn't think she was doing anything wrong."
"That's my little firecracker." Seven raises his fist and London bumps it with hers, the two of them bonding over crime.
"That's fair," I tell her. "Honestly, that's what I told Leo, that he had it coming, that he probably deserved it. Plus, I thought he was with Grace, which only made it more fucked up that he was asking me to help him find this mystery woman."
"He and Grace aren't exclusive," London says.
"They aren't together at all," Seven announces and that's when it hits me, the reason why Seven is floating on cloud nine. He has no chance with Grace, but if Grace is with Leo, it means she's off-limits. Now, she's back within reach and he thinks he might have a shot of getting with her. He's a strange sort of predator—his sights locking on to someone and not letting up until he's gotten what he wanted. Grace is one of the only women who has ever turned Seven down, making her possibly his biggest challenge, and that means he'll never stop pursuing her.
"Man, what the hell, I feel like such a bad friend, I had no idea." London turns toward me. "Where's my phone?"
I reach into my back pocket, pull it out, and hand it to her. "Here."
"Shit." London scrolls her finger along the screen, no doubt catching a glimpse of what she missed while she was in the hospital. "Yeah, I have three missed calls, and a few texts from her. They definitely broke up."
Seven's smile grows, reaching all the way to his eyes. I don't think I've ever seen my brother this happy, not even when he murdered six men and was covered in their blood. That image is forever ingrained in my memory, speckles of red on his face, his filed-down teeth showing in his toothy grin.
"Is she okay?" I ask London.
"Yeah, I'm sure she's fine. Grace is resilient. Plus, I don't think things were ever serious between them."
"Probably because she wants me." Seven is so full of himself that it hurts to witness.
"I doubt it's that," I say, not trying to hurt his feelings, not that he has any of those to begin with.
"I should probably get going." London braces herself in her attempt to stand up.
"What do you mean?" I rise to my feet. "You aren't staying here?"
She shakes her head. "I need to go home, Archer."
"You are home."
Seven makes a hissing sound. "Oh, sounds like trouble in paradise."
"You know what I mean, Archer." London ignores him.
"Stop saying my name like that," I spit out, unsure why it is annoying me so much.
"Like what?"
"I don't know, like you're talking to me like I'm a child." I hate how each word slips out of my mouth without first going through my brain to process how insane they are.
"Archer…"
"London, so help me God." I motion to the kitchen. "Stay for a few days, at least. I can cook for you. You shouldn't be alone right now. You need someone to take care of you."
"I don't need anyone to take care of me." She glares at me like she wants to set me on fire, and I can't say I blame her. London never seemed to be the type of person to ask for help, not really. Sure, she showed up on my doorstep needing a place to stay, but that was different, that was life or death.
Life or death …Madison pops back into my head along with all the unanswered questions surrounding everything London told me.
"Do you think you could give us some privacy?" I stare right at Seven, hoping he'll get the hint to get the fuck out of here.
"Whatever, man." He hops up from his seat. "I'm not going to let you ruin my mood." Seven lowers his fist to London. "Firecracker, it was a pleasure seeing you. Get well soon."
"Don't tell me what to do," London teases him and bumps her fist against his.
Seven chuckles and nods at me before heading toward the door and slipping out of here, not staying to protest or throw a fit about being asked to leave.
I lower myself onto the couch a few inches away from London. "Will you please stay?"
She looks up at me, her eyes darting back and forth. "Where were you?"
"What?"
"Where were you, Archer?" She pauses for a split second. "You're telling me you saw every date I went on, you knew what dress I wanted, heard conversations that were private, but when I actually needed you, you weren't there?"
"I'm sorry," is all I can get out, because she's right. I did see every date she went on, even the one the night before. It fucking killed me to watch her with another man, to see him make her smile, hold her chair out for her, and walk her to the car. Fuck, just the fact that he got to have a conversation with her was enough to make me go insane. That's why I hesitated the next day, that's why I wasn't watching her every move, because if I had to witness her meet him again, or kiss him, I'd lose my fucking mind. But the self-control I thought I had was quickly squashed and when I checked her location and saw her on the other side of town, I irrationally hopped on my bike and headed in that direction, only by the time I reached her, it was almost too late.
London sniffles and looks away, and I want to kill myself for making her feel this way.
I should have been there. I failed her. I lost her trust.