Smokey

Chapter Forty-Five

Alexandra

We leave my father hogtied on the floor in a pool of blood, and then we call in the tip; a few hurried words into a receiver while standing outside the storage unit and immediately, a weight lifts from my shoulders; the air is fresher, the light brighter. Smiling, we lock hands, and we walk to Dixon’s bike. He rides behind me, and I take the handlebars, because he’s too wounded to do anything but hold on. I say a silent thanks to Lucas for all he did to teach me how to ride. Without him, I wouldn’t be able to get Dixon to the hospital. I’m going to miss my brother — I always will — but in that moment, the pain I feel thinking about him is different; it’s less visceral, less agonizing. Maybe this is what moving on feels like. It’s the ability to think of someone you loved and lost, and instead of feeling the pain of losing them, there’s the space to be grateful for the time you had with them.

Goodbye, Lucas.

It takes ten minutes to reach the nearest hospital. I pull into the entrance reserved for ambulances, and I scream to high heaven. “I need a doctor, now.”

My voice is so loud that even Dixon, who teeters on the edge of unconsciousness, flinches.

“I’ll be even louder if that’s what it takes to save your life, Dixon,” I snap. “So don’t you give me that look.”

Just as I’m about to uncork a scream that would make a banshee put in earplugs, a man in scrubs steps out of the sliding glass doors and gives us one look.

“Holy shit,” he says.

“Holy shit is right. Get your buddies and get a fucking gurney. Now.”

He runs back inside and returns with several others, and they heft Dixon, who is now nearly unconscious, onto the gurney.

“What happened?” The doctor says.

“He got stabbed saving my life,” I reply.

He gives me a quick look. “You need attention, too.”

“No, thanks. I’m not the attention-seeking type. I do fine on my own.”

“I mean medical attention. Can you walk, or do you need a wheelchair?”

“Oh, sorry. It’s been a fucking day. I just found out my dad’s a drug dealer, and he murdered my brother, so…” I shake my head. “I can walk.”

“God damn, that sounds like hell. Get inside and I’ll have someone come take you to an examination room. We have a psych on staff if you need something to help you cope, too.”

I smile at him. “I appreciate the offer, but I actually feel good. Best I have in years.”

I finally see a light at the end of the dark tunnel I’ve been stuck in for years, and each second that I’m alive is another second that lovely light gets closer. I can’t wait for that day.

“I’ll send them by anyway. Just in case.”

I shrug. I doubt I’ll need it, but maybe I’ll get a Xanax or two, just for shits and giggles. “Fine. Thank you.”

They wheel Dixon away, and I walk into the hospital under my own power. Head high, shoulders straight; it hurts like hell, but, in a twisted way, I’m proud. It’s over.

Now, I can finally heal.

I’ve barely seen the triage nurse before the Steel Reapers arrive. Several nurses on the floor give them sideways looks, but it doesn’t seem to faze any of the Reapers. When I spot Ghost, as the nurse is taking me to an examination room to be treated and stitched up, I wave him over. There’s a tired look on his face, but a sly smile, too.

“Sir, you can’t be back here,” the nurse says, interposing herself between Ghost and the door.

If you want to stand in Ghost’s way, good luck, lady. In order to stop a cheerful, bloody massacre, I step between the two of them.

“It’s OK, nurse. He’s family,” I say.

“You’re related?” She says.

“He’s my brother.”

In a way, he is. I can’t suppress a smile at that thought. My family’s gotten so much bigger.

The nurse looks to Ghost for confirmation, and he gives a single curt nod. Thankfully, the nurse, whether she actually accepts the story, knows it wouldn’t be a good idea to get in Ghost’s way, so she hurries out the door. “The doctor will be with you shortly,” she says over her shoulder before closing the door behind her.

Ghosts pulls up a chair next to the examination table. “How you doing?”

“I’m bloody, everything’s bruised, my dad tried to murder me, and I stabbed my childhood best friend. But I’m alive. Dixon is, too.” I pause for a moment, exhale. “I think I’m going to be OK.”

“I’m glad he came to you,” Ghost says. “Did he, did you two…”

“I love him. He loves me.”

Ghost grins. “Love wins.”

Just saying those words puts a big smile on his face, like he’s happy to have a reason to say them.

What a strange man.

There’s a commotion in the hallway, and I hear another nurse raising their voice. “They can’t be back here.”

Five voices answer in unison. “She’s our sister.”

Then there’s a knock at the door.

Ghost answers, and everyone from the MC — Hawk, Striker, Bullet, Thunder, and Rook — and immediately, Ghost’s face loses its sentimental look, his smile replaced instead by the look of a soulless killer.

“How you holding up?” Bullet says.

“This hospital is trash. As soon as he’s stable, I’m having Smokey moved to Costa Oscura General so Eliza can watch over him… and keep him out of trouble,” Rook says.

“I’m doing fine. I hurt, but I’ll heal,” I say to Bullet. To Rook, I say, “that sounds like a great idea. But if you touch my man before he’s ready to be moved, you’ll have me to deal with.”

Rook snorts. Then he smiles. “Maybe you’re not so bad.”

“Maybe you aren’t either,” I say. “Maybe, as much as you try to hide it, you care about these people.”

“Is that true?” Thunder says. “Do I mean something to you, Rook?”

“Yeah. You mean I’m going to have a fucking headache later,” he retorts.

Another knock, and a man in a doctor’s coat stands in the doorway.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” he says. “But if I am, it doesn’t matter. Because that woman is covered in blood, needs my attention, and you all need to get out of here while I take care of her.”

No one protests. They all leave, but not quietly. Each one wishes me a quick recovery, and I hear more than a couple, “Take care, sister,” which I know is mostly for the doctor and nurses’ benefit, but which still brings tears to my eyes thinking about the fact that, though I have lost my biological family, I’ve found another.

And that family has not only seen me at my worst, but chooses me time and again despite it.

“You certainly have an interesting family,” the doctor remarks as he stands beside me and begins checking me over.

“I do. And I love them all to death.”

* * * * *

“Heavens above, I’m so excited that I’m jiggling like a June bug,” Moose exclaims beside me as he pushes a wheelchair through the lobby of Our Lady of the Parish hospital in Sacramento, where Dixon has been a patient for the last three days.

But not anymore.

Today’s the day we move him.

I didn’t plan on bringing Moose, but when I showed up to the hospital in my beat-up sedan, expecting to spend some quality alone time with my man before bringing him to Costa Oscura General Hospital for another night or two of recuperation — and probably an earful or twelve from Rook — Moose was already here, waiting.

“How long have you been here?” I say, on first seeing him. He’s standing beside a rental van with what looks to be all the handicap bells and whistles: a mobility ramp, expansive seating, and even the seats are movable. “And where did you get that?”

“I’ve been here a couple of hours. Got so excited I couldn’t sleep. This van, well, I borrowed it from a close friend of mine who had it for a time while recovering from a skiing accident. We’re very close, though to tell you how close, I’d have to violate a couple of confidentiality agreements. Suffice to say, you don’t want to tangle with the legal team of a former governor.”

“Do you mean…?”

“Terminate that line of questioning, Alexandra,” he says. “Now, let’s get Dixon out of here. I can’t wait to see how that hospital gown looks on him. Can’t wait to see it in a stiff breeze, either.”

Moose”s boisterous laughter echoes through the sterile hospital corridors, a stark contrast to the usual hushed tones that linger like ghosts around the linoleum floors. The hospital staff eyes us with equal parts curiosity and caution.

My heart races in anticipation as we approach Dixon”s room. I steel myself for the sight of him — bandaged, bruised, but unbroken. Moose senses my sudden silence and gives me a reassuring pat on the back.

”He”s strong, just like you,” he says with a wink. “You both will come out of this better than ever.”

As we enter Dixon”s room, I see him propped up in bed with a tired but triumphant smile. It’s a smile that reaches his deep-set eyes and lights up the room brighter than any fluorescent bulb ever could. The only things I can do are smile and run to him. He grunts as I hug him.

When I loosen my hug, he tightens his grip.

“Don’t you fucking dare let go,” he whispers.

“I missed you,” I say.

It’s been three days. Which doesn’t seem like much, but time runs differently when your days are full of meetings with the police, the FBI, the DEA, with doctor’s appointments, and where even the moments alone feel so monumental, so full, so heavy, that it’s all you can do to breathe. My new life is starting, but my old one still has its claws in me and it’ll be a long time before it fully lets me go. Probably around the time my father is sentenced to prison — which, every agent and officer I’ve talked to about the case, assures me is definitely happening.

“I missed you, too,” Dixon says, loosening the hug so he can kiss me.

“I missed you, also, Smokey,” Moose says. “So much.”

Dixon chuckles, the sound raspy but full of warmth.

”Love you, too, Moose.”

Moose grins and winks at Dixon, then nods at the wheelchair beside him.

”Ready for your chariot ride?”

”I”ve been ready to get out of this place since the moment I got here,” Dixon replies with a determined nod, though his body language betrays a hint of weariness. The past few days haven”t just been tough on his body; they”ve taken a toll on his spirit, too. In every phone call we’ve had through the past three days, he’s never failed to remark how he wishes he could be there beside me, my shoulder to lean on while the rest of the world seems intent on pushing me.

But not anymore.

Today, I get my man back.

Today, my family becomes whole.

Together, we help Dixon ease into the wheelchair, mindful of his injuries. Moose only takes a quick peek as Dixon maneuvers himself into the chair, his gown revealing his muscular ass for only a moment. Moose and I lock eyes right after, and we each give an approving nod. No matter what, my man has a great ass.

Once in the chair, Dixon winces slightly but reassures us with a tight-lipped smile that he”s fine. As Moose wheels him out of the room, I hang back to grab Dixon”s duffel bag filled with personal items that he was allowed to have during his stay.

The fresh air hits us like a wave as we exit the hospital.

The sun is bright, cheerful, and as we approach Moose”s borrowed van, I can”t help but feel a surge of optimism rise within me.

Moose deftly operates the mobility ramp while I help Dixon settle into the passenger seat.

”Comfortable?” I ask as I fasten his seatbelt.

”As much as one can be with a metric fuckton of injuries and being locked in a van with the world’s horniest chauffeur.”

“I heard that,” Moose says. “Though I don’t dispute it.”

“It isn’t far to Costa Oscura, and I’ll be behind you all the way.”

Dixon leans down to kiss me. “You know what I’m looking forward to when all this is over?”

His voice is so warm I want to wrap myself in it and take a nap. “What’s that?”

“I want to wake up in the morning beside you, to share a breakfast with you, to take a long ride along the coast with you, where we ride for miles and miles seeing nothing but sand and the endless ocean, and smelling nothing but the sea, and when we come home and we fall into bed together, and after we fuck, and then fuck again, I want to stretch out in bed and realize the only thing I’ve thought about all day is how much I love you and love being with you.” He leans down and kisses me like he’s never kissed me before. When he looks at me afterwards, there’s such heat in his gaze that I feel my heart catch fire. “Then, the next day, I want to do it again. Over and over, until we have no more days left.”

I’m breathless, smiling; I want to open the door and climb into his lap, straddle him, and kiss him until my lips stop working. I want tomorrow to be here already; I want Dixon in my arms, in my bed, in my life for the rest of my life.

“I’d like that.”

Moose clears his throat. “I hate to interrupt love, but we have to get moving. We were lucky that they’re allowing us to transfer you to Costa Oscura general for the last of your care, and Eliza had to pull some strings to make it happen, but if we take too long, they’re going to worry and some people might get in trouble.”

Still, Dixon and I take some time to linger with our lips together.

Let the world wait.

Because it’s hard to part, even for a second, from the man who makes pain, hopelessness, and trauma seem like nothing more than a blip in my rearview mirror. I want to wring every bit of enjoyment out of this moment where I’m kissing the man of my dreams.

But we must kiss longer than I realize, because the next thing I know, Moose has started the van and kicked it slowly into reverse, and I have to break my lips away from Dixon to avoid being run over.

“It’s only a couple hours away,” Moose calls out. “You two waited your whole lives for each other. You can wait just a little longer.”

Smiling, I walk to my car.

When I start the engine, with the sunshine on my face and warmth in my heart, I look over at the empty passenger seat and I can almost see my brother there. But, unlike all those other times where in the past where I’ve thought about him, I don’t feel sadness or loss.

In fact, my smile grows, and I know Lucas would be proud of me.