Chapter 59 Mateo
MATEO
There was nothing that made you want to die more than that feeling between lucid and unconscious being disturbed by the frustrating sounds of hospital machinery.
The beeping piled on top of the obnoxious nagging of a woman you didn’t love, trying to wake you up from a heavy dream was more than any person on the verge of crossing over could tolerate.
“Kane. Wake up, Kane. Mateo, Mateo.” She shook at my shoulders until I could no longer ignore her. “I really need you to come back to me buddy, you’re scaring me.”
“Ugh, let me fucking sleep Emory.” I pushed her hand off me only to feel a deep soreness pulling at my stomach. “Fuck,” I wheezed, opening my eyes to the sterile white walls and fluorescent bulbs of one of the rooms in Saint Murphy’s intensive care unit.
“Thank fuck,” she said in that subtle Irish accent. “I’ve been trying to wake you up all day, Mateo. I thought you weren’t coming back from that one.”
“From what one? What happened?” I groaned out, trying to sit myself up but she stopped me.
“Don’t move, you’re still recovering from surgery. I pulled a bullet out of your stomach. You’re lucky it didn’t hit any organs, but they found you bleeding out on the grass, and you needed a lot of blood. I can’t believe you’re actually alive right now.”
She couldn’t hold back her emotions, the tears streaming down her face as she clasped her hands together, almost in prayer.
“We lost so many of you.” She shook her head.
Then everything came back to me.
The party. Celia in that fucking sexy as hell dress, sandwiched between me and Ronan. Los fucking Muertos infiltrating the Black Crow headquarters and shooting down more than half our men.
“Fuck,” I groaned, trying to sit up once again, but the Doc placed her hands heavy on my shoulders to stop me.
“I mean it Mateo, I will sedate you again now that I know you’re not brain dead,” she warned me.
“Where is everyone?” I said, my voice hoarse and dry. “How long have I been out?”
“It’s been five days. Like I said, you lost a lot of blood. The Crows that are left made their way to the Diablos Locos compound.” She looked apologetic, like she was trying to empathize but with something of this magnitude it was too hard.
“Where are Ronan and Santos? Where’s Cecilia?”
“We didn’t find her body or Santos’.” She slipped a medical glove on her right hand before following suit with the left. “Ronan...” She wiped her eyes with the back of her forearms, trying to hide her tears from me.
“Where is he?” I asked her, panicking at the thought of our girl missing and the thought of Los Muertos having taken Santos home.
“Ronan is still sedated.” She reassured me at the sight of me visibly unraveling from the possibilities.
“Taylor found him with two bullets in his stomach, bleeding out. You lost more blood, but he was worse off. With his temperament, I knew better than to wake the giant up before he was healed enough to go out destroying the villages,” she said.
She checked my vitals, running the cold stethoscope over my bare skin and jotting notes down onto her chart like she could so easily disregard my urgency.
“Unplug me Doc.”
“You need more fluids Mateo. What do you think you’re going to do if I let you out of here?”
“I’m gonna get my girl back.” I gripped her wrist in my hand, tugging her towards me to let her know this wasn’t negotiable.
“I thought she was Zerkos’ girl?” she asked, a frown forming on her face while her confusion challenged me.
“Then you better wake him the fuck up too,” I said, leaning close.
She pulled the IV’s out of my arm, but before I could get up she placed her hand on my chest.
“I’m not stupid. I woke you up because I knew you were well enough to hopefully not kill yourself by going out there.
I know they need help. But I can’t turn down Zerkos’ drugs yet.
You and I both know he’ll kill himself to save them.
And that’s just the thing Kane, he will kill himself if he wakes up now. He got shot… twice.”
Shit. If I was lucky to be alive, then the sentiment doubled for Ronan. But all I could think about was her being out there again, surrounded by enemies.
“I can’t help them alone,” I told her.
“You’re not alone,” César Villalobos’ voice called out from the corner.
I leaned my head around Dr. O’Connor’s body to see his smug fucking self, sitting in the chair, ankle crossed over his knee with his motorcycle club vest on. He had the need to announce what gang he belonged to at any given time of the day—like anyone fucking cared.
“Fuck me,” I groaned.
“Who the fuck do you think convinced the pretty Doctor here to wake your bitch ass up pendejo?” He smirked but it only lasted a second or two, like he quickly remembered the situation.
“You got enough men to help us get them back?” I asked as Emory finally gave in, helping me into a sitting position.
“Yeah, I got the men.” The cocky bastard stood up putting a cigarette in his mouth and just as he was about to light it, Emory snagged it from his lips.
“You’re insane if you think I’m going to let you light this in here.” She stomped over to the trash and broke it in half before dumping it in.
“Are you?” He paused, tilting his chin. “Insane?” His eyes hooded over, and he wet his lips with the kind of audacity only someone like Villalobos had.
His tongue ran over the diamond glued to his canine.
She stared at his mouth unblinking, like she was stuck in a trance. I cleared my throat, breaking the hypnosis he had her under, and she shook her head, walking back in my direction and tucking her red hair behind her ear.
“Why are you helping her? You left her to die once, why’s it any different this time?” I needed to know.
Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to trust him. Not with her life on the line.
“I didn’t leave her to die, I left her with him. I left her to put this shit behind her and try to live a normal life, something I knew I’d never get a chance to do. I’m not sorry and she doesn’t expect me to be.” I could tell he was annoyed that I'd even say something about what he did to her.
How could I think anything but?
The things I’d seen him do to her, the things he failed to do for her.
Too many people had let Celia down, and I wasn’t going to be one of them.
I ran my hand over my face before grabbing the hospital bed to pivot my legs onto the floor. Emory and César both rushed to me as if I was seconds away from breaking and if I was going to be honest with myself—I kind of fucking felt like it.
“We have to wake Ronan up.” I looked past the doctor, my words meant for César alone.
He nodded like he agreed, and Emory tsked loudly.
“I swear to fucking God Mateo, I’ll put all of you to sleep. If Ronan so much as moves the wrong way, his internal stitches could open, and he’ll die. Do not make me wake him up.”
“You don’t understand Doc. If I go without him, that’ll kill him. Ronan would rather die out there trying to save her, then spend one more second in this hospital, asleep, avoiding our problems. I know my brother,” I reminded her.
“This is wrong.” She shook her head. “At least give yourself time to get your legs back under you. You can’t help him if you can’t help yourself,” she bit back at me.
“Fuck. Fine. Help me up then,” I told her, but it was César who came to my aid first, though I wasn’t sure it was a love for me that did it or a need to keep the Doc from touching me any more than she had to.
Something happened between them while I was dying.
But the only thing I cared about was getting Santos and Celia back.