Chapter 25 #2
Of course, the hairspray and brutal kick to the balls wasn’t going to keep my attacker down for long.
He’s on his feet now and charging towards us—but Kolter just casually lifts the gun still in his hand and empties the clip into the man.
He stumbles backward in shock before collapsing in the middle of the street.
My eyes are wide with shock as I open the back door of my car and shove Kolter inside. He’s moaning in pain and writhing on his back, attempting to keep pressure on his chest.
“You know, being with you means having to be okay with a lot of murder,” I huff.
Kolter lets out a rough chuckle that sends him into a coughing fit. Miraculously, my car still works, so I punch the gas and speed down the road.
“You’re gonna be okay. I’m gonna get you there. Will they have everything to fix you?” I ask as I pull up the directions to the clubhouse.
“Call Ace—he’ll have them ready,” Kolter rasps.
“I don’t have his number!” I shout in a panic, my eyes bouncing from the road to him and back again.
“Yes you do.”
Frowning, I scroll through my contacts and find Ace almost immediately.
“You’re so creepy,” I mutter before hitting call.
The phone rings only once before a deep voice answers.
“Naomi? Is everything okay?”
“Kolter’s been shot! Or Blade, or whatever! He won’t let me take him to the hospital or call an ambulance, so I’m coming to the club.”
Some muffled conversations occur in the background, then Ace is back.
“The doc is on his way. How bad is it?”
I look to the back of the car. Kolter’s face is growing paler by the moment and blood is still pouring from his chest.
“Bad.”
As soon as I pull up to the club, a rush of people swarm my car. The back door is ripped open, then several men grab Kolter and rush him inside. Ace stands by my door and helps me out, looking me over for injuries.
“You good?” he asks.
I nod, but I can’t speak, the adrenaline finally waning. When I burst into tears. Ace quickly pushes my head to his chest, shielding me from everyone around.
“Hey, hey. It’s okay. He’s tough as nails—you know that. He’s not going anywhere,” he says softly.
I look up at him. “You can honestly promise that?”
Ace swallows roughly and tucks me tighter into his chest. “That bastard loves you too much to leave you. He’d fight the devil himself to be with you. It’s gonna be okay.”
I let out a choked sob as I nod, hoping, pleading, praying that he’s right.
Two motorcycles pull up then, each rider leaping off before the bikes fully stop.
“What the fuck happened?” Matthew snarls and tears up the stairs, clearly not seeing Ace or me.
But Bones does. He follows Matthew for a moment before pausing and turning to us. Slowly, he stalks forward, his gaze roaming over my battered car, blood-soaked backseat and, well, the mess that I am.
“What happened?” he rumbles.
“Some men were following me. I don’t know why. Kolter came and intercepted them. He got shot.”
“Is he dead?” Bones asks stoically.
My eyes widen in outrage. “No!”
At least. I don’t think… oh my God.
“Are they dead?” he asks.
I nod.
“How many?”
“Four, I think. I-I saw four bodies.”
He lets out a heavy sigh that sounds more like a growl and rakes his hands through his hair. “Ace, you’re with me. Grab a few more.”
Ace hesitates for a moment, looking towards the clubhouse then back to me. “I think I should stay.”
Bones has started walking away but slowly turns on his heel and gives him a death glare that chills me to the bone.
“I don’t give a fuck what you think. You’re with me. NOW.”
Grudgingly, Ace steps away from me, gesturing for a few guys to follow as he mounts his bike.
“Where did this happen?” Bones asks, not looking up.
“I-I don’t remember. I got off at 162 southbound. Took a right and went straight for a mile or two. I’m sorry.”
His head whips up, his brows pinching like he’s never heard the word sorry—like he doesn’t understand its purpose. Then he fires up his own bike and backs it up before taking off down the road. Ace and two other bikers follow him, and I’m left standing in the parking lot… alone.
I’m only alone for a moment, though.
Matthew comes striding out the clubhouse door and makes a beeline for me. I don’t attempt to hide how I shrink away from him, and he puts his hands up in surrender.
“You get hurt?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“Good.”
We stand there in silence for a moment before I gather the courage to ask a question I’m not sure I want the answer to.
“H-How is he?”
Matthew’s expression is stony. “Doc’s doing everything he can for him. Won’t know much for a bit.”
An exhale escapes me as I stare down at the ground—and then the dam breaks, and I’m sobbing and shaking uncontrollably.
Matthew presses a heavy hand against my back, slowly rubbing up and down. I know it’s supposed to be comforting, but something about him makes that impossible, though I suppose the effort is nice.
“I should have called 911. I should have gotten him an ambulance instead of driving him back here,” I whisper.
“Why do you say that?” Matthew asks.
I look at him like he’s crazy. “Because he’s dying! He needs medical help, a hospital! The stubborn bastard wouldn’t let me call them. It saved his life last time, though! God, I never thought… I never wanted to see him hurt like that again.”
Matthew is quiet for a moment or two, his hand still rubbing my back. “Again?”
I look up at him, blinking away my tears, and sniff, “When he got shot at that warehouse years ago. He insisted I didn’t call anyone then, but it saved his life. I just… if it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t be hurt. And if I hadn’t listened to him, he’d be at the hospital right now.”
“You called the ambulance last time?” Matthew asks, a sharpness to his words that catches me off guard.
I nod.
He swallows roughly, then pulls out a cigarette and lights it. He takes a long inhale before blowing out the smoke. “He’s a tough kid. He’ll be fine.”