Chapter 32 Archer
Archer
Iride 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?