Chapter Fourteen
We slept in my bed Sunday night.
The next morning, before we both left for work, I made sure to give Kade his old key back, which earned me one hell of a kiss.
That kiss had me in an exceptionally good mood when I arrived at the hospital. After the weekend I’d had, I wasn’t sure anything could ruin my day.
Unfortunately, I would soon find out, one thing in particular could bring me back to earth.
We were nearly halfway through the day when I noticed a bruise on Abbie’s arm. I wouldn’t have thought much of it, but when I asked her what happened, her mumbled reply of, “Oh, uh, nothing. I ran into something,” made me suspicious.
Abbie was usually an open book. I chalked it up to her age and bubbly personality. It’s part of what made her so endearing. It was also the reason why her brush-off was hard to ignore.
I’d been so caught up in my own drama the previous week, I neglected to check-in with Abbie after the strange way she’d acted around Logan. When he first started, she seemed to be a fan of the new doctor; but when I thought about it, I couldn’t remember the last time she mentioned him.
As far as I could tell, Dr. Grant was settling in fine. Heather was still intent on not getting attached, but his experience was backed up by his performance. He was a good doctor, even if he did have questionable tenure. That said, I wasn’t fully ready to trust him anymore than Heather was—especially if the most welcoming nurse we had on staff was wary in his presence.
For the next hour, I kept a close eye on Abbie, waiting for the right moment to pull her aside and make sure everything was okay. Before I got my chance, I saw another instance of her trying to avoid Logan. If there wasn’t a patient between them, she seemed more relaxed as far away from him as she could be.
I was finishing with a patient at the same time she was, and I decided this was my best chance. She was focused on the tablet in her hand, and I took her by surprise when I gently reached for her elbow and pulled her aside.
“Hey. Is everything okay with you? You seem a little…down,” I murmured softly, so as not to be overheard.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fine,” she was quick to reply.
“Abbie, if something’s wrong, whatever it is, you can talk to me. You know that, right?”
She peeked over her shoulder, and for a second, I thought she might tell me something. Instead, she shook her head and insisted, “Just leave it, Jenna. I mean it.”
When she turned away from me, headed back to the nurses’ station, I didn’t stop her. Her reaction made me even more worried, but I wasn't sure how to respond. I wouldn’t force her to talk.
What I could do was keep my eye on the situation more closely.
I wasn’t sure if Dr. Grant was the problem. Abbie and I didn’t work together every shift, and it was possible she was dealing with something else; but Logan had been the only recent change at the hospital, so I wasn’t going to rule him out just yet. The thought crossed my mind to ask Heather if she’d noticed any change in morale with the staff, but I didn’t want to raise any red flags. Not to mention, an accusation of that nature was a big deal. I needed to be careful.
Distracted by the events of the day, I’d almost forgotten the incredible mood I was in that morning, until an unexpected delivery arrived not five minutes later.
The courier with the huge bouquet of no less than two dozen roses headed straight for the nurses’ station. All of us behind the desk glanced his way in curiosity before he said, “I’ve got a delivery for a Jenna Hayes.”
My breath caught as my heart started to race, butterflies darting around my stomach in anticipation.
Before I could process what was happening, Lindsey spun her chair until she was facing me, her eyes opened wide in excitement. “And what admirer have you neglected to tell us about?”
I hadn’t told her the full extent of what happened with Josh, but I did let her know it hadn’t worked out. Seeing as she was still going strong with Wayne, I didn’t feel the need to caution her about the potential dangers of meeting men online—regardless of how smart one thought she was.
Neither had I told her about Kade.
We’d need more than a stolen moment between patients for me to explain him.
“Uh, I’m Jenna,” I stammered.
The courier smiled and headed my way. He set the round vase of roses in front of me, then asked for my signature. I scribbled my name distractedly, mumbling a vague thank you before reaching for the attached note.
The card read: Rose- colored glasse s . Except, most of the letters were crossed out so it really said: Roses .
Kade signed it with a K .
As I stared at his masculine handwriting, the butterflies in my stomach went wild in revelry.
If I was still checking boxes, this would definitely have qualified for at least two or three.
But I was done with all that.
I had who I wanted.
And he was far more than I could have imagined.
Maverick
He wasn’t sure of the last time he’d bought a woman flowers.
He certainly hadn’t gone out of his way to do it for anyone he was sleeping with for the past dozen years.
Every once in a while, he saw fit to get his Gran a bouquet, but she always insisted she didn’t need such luxuries and would rather a box of chocolates, if he really wanted to dote on her.
But his foxy lady seemed like the kind of woman who would appreciate that sort of thing. She was a lady after all.
He’d parked his Heritage Classic in front of the clubhouse and was on his way back to the garage when he stopped short. Three black Escalades sped through the entrance of the compound, and he knew that meant trouble. One of those Cadillacs rolling in would have made him raise an eyebrow, but three?
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath.
He didn’t even wait for them to come to a full stop before he had his phone out, Bull’s contact information on his screen.
They parked between the garage and the clubhouse, which was also telling. One of the drivers stepped out of the front seat then hurried around to open the back passenger door just as Bull answered.
“You got me,” he said in greeting.
“Wherever you are, get the fuck out here. We got company. Drug cartel, by the looks of it.”
“Fuck,” Bull grumbled. “Fuckin’ Viper.”
He didn’t say another word before he disconnected.
Fuckin’ Viper was right.
The Stallions didn’t have drug problems. Not anymore.
At least, not until recently.
It had been a while, but Maverick recognized the man who got out of the first Escalade right away. He was average height, but even in a suit, anyone could tell what he lacked in stature he overcompensated for in bulk. Men with money like Raphael Borrero didn’t buy suits that weren’t tailored—but Raphael didn’t leave himself with much of a choice. He was likely hopped up on steroids, but he was in the drug business, so it fit.
He was also Gabriel’s hired muscle.
Gabriel Alvarez was the kingpin of the highest grossing drug organization between Colorado and Canada. He hadn’t been born into it. He’d built it, which made him a monster and a mastermind. At forty-five years old, he was the richest motherfucker Maverick had the pleasure of never meeting personally.
As he stepped out of the Cadillac behind Raphael, in his Italian leather shoes, Maverick imagined his good fortune was about to change.
Movement caught his attention out of the corner of his eye, and he looked toward the garage to see three men headed his way. Wrangler, with his coveralls half on and half off, the sleeves tied around his waist, led the pack. Twister and Bull, both in their kuttes, flanked either side of him.
When Maverick looked back at Gabriel and his crew, he saw they, too, were focused on the approaching Stallions. As they started to meet them in the middle, Maverick moved to do the same. Raphael peered over his shoulder, eyeing him challengingly when they came to a stop, but Maverick didn’t even flinch. He gave them a wide berth before going to stand with his brothers.
Bull stepped around Wrangler and asked, “Alvarez—to what do we owe the pleasure?”
Gabriel smiled snidely. “It’s funny, the way you pretend to show me respect when I’m standing in front of your face, but you do the opposite when my back is turned.”
Bull shook his head. “I’ve got no beef with you. I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”
His smile gone in an instant, he sneered, “You’re either a fucking liar or a shit leader. When we cut ties, I thought—at the very least—we did so with the respect both of us were owed. But now I’m beginning to think I gave you too much credit.”
The Wild Stallions had been a major part of Gabriel’s operation for years. When Bull made it clear the cartel would have to find another crew to supply protection during transport, the message hadn’t been received well—but they were getting out . Out meant no bad blood. No broken loyalty. No loss of trust.
Now, to question the word of the Stallions' leader was no small accusation.
“State your business, Alvarez,” Bull demanded, his patience obviously waning.
“You’re encroaching on my turf.”
“We’re not in the drug business, and you know it. Even when we were, we didn’t sell shit.”
“Yeah, that’s how I remember it. But I’ve got guys on the street in Laramie, Cheyenne, even as far south as Wellington telling me they can’t push all my product because competition has beat me to it. Your boys might not be selling on the street, but they’re fucking selling to someone who will, and it’s interrupting my business.
“Now, you might not deserve it, but I was nearby, so I figured I’d offer the courtesy of telling you to your face, you better get your shit straight. You wanted out—stay the fuck out. You mess with my money, you’re asking for war. Consider this your final warning.”
Gabriel turned back toward his vehicle without another word, his men following after him. Maverick cut his eyes toward Bull, watching and waiting to see how the president would respond. It wasn’t until the Escalades were headed off the compound that he faced his men and started doling out orders.
To Twister, he instructed, “Mustang, Slick, Shep—I want ‘em here in the next fifteen minutes. Round table.”
To Wrangler, “Get the garage sorted. You’re done for the day. Mav, too.”
To Maverick, “We’re ridin’. Figure it out.”
Fifteen minutes later, they were all in the war room at the clubhouse. Mustang stood in the corner, his arms folded across his chest. Twister, Shepherd, and Wrangler sat at the table. Slick was there too, his chair turned backwards so he could rest his arms across the top. Maverick stood near the door, his shoulder propped up against the wall, and Bull was on his feet at the front of the room—his expression hard.
“I don’t suspect Bronco. He’s the one who brought this to my attention in the first place. But maybe I’ve got a blindside. Twister?”
“I’m with you. This is all Viper.”
“Doesn’t much matter, does it?” chimed in Shepherd. “Bronco’s his leader. He lets shit get outta hand, there are consequences. Gabriel Alvarez makin’ a personal appearance here —that’s not okay.”
“That’s why we’re all goin’,” muttered Bull.
He then jerked his chin at Maverick.
“I-25 gets us there the fastest,” he reported, stating what he was sure Bull already knew. “US-85 is more discreet.”
“Not worried about discretion. Want to get there and get back.”
“Just over three hundred miles,” Maverick reminded his brothers. “If you're not fueled up, suggest you do so. We're only stoppin’ once.”
“Can’t go anywhere until four-thirty,” said Mustang.
“Fine. We roll in an hour. Handle your shit,” Bull demanded.
He was the first to exit the room, and that was everyone’s signal they were free to go. Maverick knew he needed to make a fuel run, but there was something else he wanted to see to, first.
He pulled out his phone and brought up their text thread.
Gotta ride, foxy. Don’t wait up .
He hated to miss a night with his lady, especially seeing as he’d just gotten her back, but club business wouldn’t wait.
The sun was on its way down as they rolled in like a stampede, the rumble of their approaching hogs unmistakable. They hadn’t warned anyone in the Cheyenne chapter of their visit, so it made sense they were greeted by men on their guard. Flank, their local enforcer, was the first to bust through the clubhouse doors. He held an arm out, stopping another in his charter from advancing when he realized their visitors were friends and not foes.
Maverick, at the front of the Gillette pack, was the first to cut off his engine and dismount.
“Bronco around?” he inquired, speaking loud enough to be heard over the dissipating sounds of their arrival.
“No.”
“We came an awful long way. I suggest you give him a call.”
“VP, too, if he’s not in there already,” added Twister.
It was another twenty minutes before Bull had the audience he wanted. He hadn’t bothered to get comfortable once inside, so Maverick and the others remained on their feet, as well. Bronco was the first to arrive. Viper walked through the doors five minutes later.
“Ah, shit,” he muttered when he saw who was waiting for him.
“Got a visit today,” Bull began, his tone cold and unyielding. “Sounds like you boys down here are interested in startin’ a war you don’t have the firepower to fuckin’ win.”
“What are you—?”
Bronco tried to speak, but Bull didn’t let him finish.
“Told you to shut it down. You didn’t. Now you can shut the fuck up.”
He obeyed, but Maverick could tell it pissed him off to do so.
Cutting his eyes at Viper, Bull asked, “You’re sellin’ to Alvarez’s competition? You got a death wish, or are you just lookin’ for a way out? ‘Cause I can take your patch right fuckin’ now.”
Viper’s brow lifted and he actually took a step back before he replied, “I’m tryin’ to make us some money, that’s all.”
“We don’t sell drugs,” piped in Twister. “Never have, never will. Sure as fuck don’t mess around in Alvarez territory. You’ve been around longer than most of us. How is it you seem to have forgotten that?”
He looked between Bull and Twister, then shrugged. “I don’t get it. Since when did we become a bunch of pussies afraid of a fight?”
“Excuse me?” spat Bull.
“I got intel there are weakness’s in Alvarez’s operation. I was only trying to take advantage of the situation. There’s money to be made; money we’re sleepin’ on.”
“What intel? ” Bronco inquired.
“Hoffman. He called me. Delivered a message.”
Maverick’s eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment, hearing the name of the club’s general counsel.
“Scorpion’s been in contact. Hoffman has access to him on the inside, and Scorpion has been hearin’ some things. He thinks now’s the time for us to make our play, to get back in the game, bigger than before.”
Bull ran his fingers through his hair then grabbed the back of his neck and squeezed.
“You takin’ orders from Scorpion now?” he asked menacingly.
Viper didn’t respond.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, he’s locked up. He has zero authority over what this club does. You got a different president now. Been that way for a while, and you fuckin’ know it. Only orders you obey are mine—and I told you weeks ago to end this shit. Your mess already got a prospect and a brother popped. Next, one of us will be dead.
“I won’t tell you again. We’re not goin’ to war, you hear me?” He looked around the room. “Anyone of you steps out of line, instigating more trouble with the cartel, you will be stripped of your patch. Make your choice. Right here, right now.”
No one moved.
No one spoke.
Bull then looked to Bronco and warned, “You’re replaceable. Don’t for a second think that president patch can’t be removed.”
It was the last thing he said before he made his way to the exit. The rest of the Gillette crew followed after him. When they reached their hogs, Bull didn’t mount his Harley right away. He stood beside it, hands on his hips, gaze aimed at his boots.
“What’s up?” asked Mustang.
“One problem was enough. Now I got three. Scorpion stirrin’ shit. Can’t trust our attorney of twenty years. And this house is on the verge of catchin' fire,” he muttered, nodding toward the clubhouse.
“Happy to call on Fred Hoffman tomorrow, remind him who pays his bills,” offered Wrangler.
“Cut access from Hoffman to Scorpion, and that’s two problems solved,” said Shepherd.
Bull nodded, but Maverick could tell he wasn’t quite satisfied.
“Nothin’ we can fix overnight, prez,” he told him.
“I know.” He mounted his hog and started the engine, letting loose a violent rumble. “Let’s get the fuck outta here.”
None of them needed to be told twice.
They mounted up, and Maverick led his pack home.