Chapter 3
NIGHTMARES
J.D. Stevens
Panic and confusion barreled through me.
I burst into the emergency room, nearly colliding with an elderly couple making their way out through the sliding glass doors. The words ‘Emergency Room’ were boldly emblazoned in bright red capital letters across the glass.
After getting the call from Caesar saying I needed to get my ass over to the hospital, I made the drive at break-neck speed. Running stop lights, blowing stop signs to get here as soon as possible.
What the hell was Dani doing at the hospital? The question swirled in my mind for the hundredth time since I got the call.
Some brothers had already gathered in the Emergency Room’s lobby whispering with grim expressions on their faces.
Word must have come from Laura, one of the brothers’ Old Lady who was an ER nurse. She helped the club out more than once with sewing up bullet holes or stab wounds and tended to broken bones on occasion. Whatever we needed when we couldn’t go to the hospital to keep the cops from getting involved in club business, Laura was there.
We spent the last week trying to finish the nursery and going through baby names. We settled on Amelia, after my cousin, if it was a girl, and Luca, if it was a boy. Siobhan, our oldest daughter, was just as excited as us for the new baby. It was all she babbled about and, like me, she couldn’t stop touching Dani’s rounded belly and talking to the little human inside.
Although, I told Dani it didn’t matter whether we had a boy or another girl, I wanted another girl. A mini version of her mama, attitude, and all. Siobhan was more like me—quiet and reserved. Dani was a firecracker, quick-tempered, and as feisty as they came. She was everything and more in my eyes.
“There’s no fucking way she should be in labor,” I mumbled as I rushed up to the receptionist area, ignoring my brothers as I passed.
I tapped the desk. However, the receptionist seemed more engrossed in her phone conversation than assisting me in locating Dani.
“I’m looking for my wife.”
She held up her finger while she kept gabbing on the phone to God knows who. But the way she smiled and laughed it was a personal call, not business.
Pure unadulterated rage surged through me. Her fucking phone call could wait. Her smiles and laughs could wait. I wanted to know where the hell my wife was.
I slammed my palm on the counter, the thud echoing in the busy lobby. It was like time stood still. She jumped, scowled at me, then leaned forward placing her hand over the receiver.
“Sir,” she whispered, her tone firm like she was talking to a child, “if you do not calm down, I will have to call security.”
“Hang the fucking phone up!”
I didn’t care who heard or watched the scene unfold. And I sure as hell didn’t care if she called security.
Fuck em.’
The room became deathly silent—the only noise coming from the small television hanging on the wall across from the chairs in the waiting room and the blood pounding in my ears.
“I want to know where my goddamn wife is! Now!”
I didn’t feel sorry for the terror in her eyes when they shifted to my cut as she scrambled to place the receiver down, ending her call without another word. I wanted to know where Dani was, and I wanted to know right this damn minute. I didn’t have the fucking time to wait for her to finish her damn phone call. My wife was somewhere in this goddamn hospital, and I needed to get to her now. I could feel it in my soul.
“Calm down, bro,” Caesar, my VP, whispered in my ear, squeezing my shoulder. “You don’t want to get thrown out of here before you find out what the hell is going on. They wouldn’t tell any of us shit.”
“Where’s Laura?” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Maybe she can tell me something.”
He shrugged. “This cunt,” he tipped his chin towards the receptionist who looked like she pissed herself, “said she was too busy to talk to us right now.”
As I dropped my head, a heavy breath escaped my lips, and I could feel fear taking hold in the pit of my stomach, making bile slowly creep up my throat.
“Something’s wrong, Caesar.” I ran my hand through my hair, forcing the bile down. “Something’s fucking wrong with my wife.”