Chapter Ten
Swift
The inside of the ambulance smelled like antiseptic and rubber gloves.
I sat on the narrow bench with my elbows braced on my knees while the paramedic shined a light in my eyes like he was hoping to discover I had a hidden concussion and not just a bad attitude.
The back doors were still open, letting in the noise from outside: sirens fading, voices overlapping, radios cracking, and the general chaos of people who’d just watched somebody get shot at in broad daylight.
Or almost shot at. Close enough.
“Follow my finger,” the paramedic said.
I stared at him.
He sighed and moved his finger anyway.
I followed it because Twister had shoved me into the ambulance like I was twelve and had scraped my knee doing something stupid.
“You lose consciousness?” the paramedic asked.
“No.”
“Hit your head?”
“No.”
“Any dizziness?”
“Only from your questions.”
That got me a flat look. From outside the ambulance, I heard Wheels laugh.
The paramedic checked my shoulder and side, pressing in a few spots that were already starting to bruise from me hitting the pavement like a sack of hammers.
“You’re gonna be sore,” he said.
“No shit.”
He ignored that. “A few bumps and bruises. Nothing feels broken. No obvious signs of a concussion, but if you start getting headaches, nausea, confusion, any of that, go get checked out.”
“I’m not going to the hospital.”
He held up both hands. “I didn’t say you had to. I’m just saying you’re fine for now.”
That was all I needed to hear.
I stood up, ducked out of the ambulance, and stepped back onto the street.
Twister and Wheels were still there, both of them standing off to the side like two very irritated gargoyles in cuts. Twister took one look at me and nodded once.
Wheels grinned. “That was excitement we didn’t need today.”
Twister scoffed. “The past few weeks have been excitement we didn’t need.”
“And we didn’t do a damn thing for all this shit to come at us,” Wheels complained.
I couldn’t help but chuckle as I rolled my shoulder, testing the ache. “All we wanted was a place to call home and somewhere we could charge people to smash shit.”
Twister smirked. “Well, we got the home, but instead we got some lunatics trying to smash us.”
“Hell of a game we didn’t sign up for,” I muttered.
Twister slapped me on the shoulder. Hard.
I winced and shot him a look.
He grinned wider.
“Now you and Britta have matching injuries,” Wheels joked.
I rubbed at my shoulder. “Yeah, hers is a little more serious than mine.”
Wheels’ expression sobered some. “What the hell were you doing out here by yourself?”
I looked past them toward my bike still sitting where I’d almost mounted it. “I was headed to the clubhouse. Tyson, Britta’s brother, came over and said he could keep an eye on her.”
That got a look.
Not from one of them, but from both.
Twister and Wheels exchanged one of those silent brother glances that meant they were having a whole conversation, and I was only hearing the ugly part of it.
“Anyone else know what you were up to?” Twister asked.
I shook my head. “No. It wasn’t planned at all.”
“Not by you and Britta,” Wheels said.
Twister’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Her brother come over unannounced a lot?”
I shrugged. “He lives right down the hallway.”
And then it clicked.
The reason for the look. The line of questioning. The shape of the thought I did not want to have.
I stared at Twister. “You think her brother…” I let it trail off because I didn’t want to finish that thought.
I didn’t want to put it into words because once it was spoken, it would start to feel real.
Twister rubbed at his jaw. “The few times I’ve met the guy, he seemed decent,” he said. “But I can’t ignore the fact that he just appears, suggests you leave, and then two minutes later you’re shot at.”
That hit like a fist to the ribs because he wasn’t wrong.
And if Tyson had just set me up to get killed? That changed everything.
Not just for me, but for Britta.
For how safe she really was and for who she could trust.
“It’s gotta be a coincidence,” I said.
Wheels shrugged. “It very well could be. But you might want to be careful about what you say and do around him.”
I nodded, my eyes going back to the third-floor window even though I couldn’t see her from here anymore. “I’ll keep an eye out and let you know if something else weird happens when he’s around.”
Twister nodded once. “Sounds good, brother. I don’t want her brother to be in on this any more than you do, but right now we really can’t trust anyone.”
That was the truth of it. The simple, ugly truth.
I glanced back up at the apartment building. Could Tyson be in with The Ledger?
He’d lived in Madison his whole life and knew the town. Knew the people. Maybe he was twisted up with them somehow. Maybe not willingly but maybe through work. Through family. Through something he didn’t even realize mattered.
Or maybe it was just a coincidence.
Either way, it was a possibility now.
And possibilities got people killed if you ignored them.
“From now on,” Twister said, “I wouldn’t trust anyone to keep an eye on Britta unless it’s someone from the club.”
I nodded. “Good idea.” I exhaled and adjusted my cut. “I better get back up there before more coincidences happen.”
The cops had taken my statement. I’d walked them through the SUV, the shots, the timing, the angle.
They’d nodded and scribbled and promised to look into it, which meant exactly nothing to me until they actually had something useful.
They were still looking for Britta’s shooter too.
At this point, I trusted the club a hell of a lot more than I trusted a badge and a report.
I clasped Twister’s forearm, then Wheels’. “Later.”
“Keep your head up,” Wheels said.
Twister’s expression went hard again. “And keep hers down.”
I headed back into the building, past the gawking crowd and the curious assholes trying to stretch their necks around police tape for a better look.
The lobby was quieter than outside, but my nerves were still burning hot.
Every person I passed got a second look.
Every movement registered.
I hit the elevator button and stepped inside when the doors opened, the box of it feeling too small and too slow.
My reflection stared back at me in the metal panel. Sunglasses on, jaw tight, and my shoulder already stiffening up.
Could Tyson have really done it?
No.
Maybe.
Fuck.
I hated even thinking it. Not because of him, but because of Britta. If he was involved in any of this, it would gut her.
The elevator doors slid open and Britta burst out of her apartment.
She moved faster than she should have, crossing the hallway and throwing her arm around me before I could get more than one step out. I stumbled back a half step from the force of it and wrapped my arms around her automatically.
“Sugar,” I grunted.
She leaned back just enough to look up at me but didn’t leave my arms. Her face was pale, eyes wide, breath still a little quick. “Are you okay?”
I nodded. “I’m good. Just a bit sore from diving onto the sidewalk.”
“Trouble really just seems to follow you around,” Tyson drawled from the open doorway of Britta’s apartment.
I looked over Britta’s shoulder at him. He was leaning there like he didn’t have a care in the world, but I could see the tension in him too.
Or maybe I just didn’t trust a damn thing about him anymore.
“Or Madison is just overridden with trouble,” I said.
He tipped his head. “Yeah, I guess that all depends on how you look at it, huh?”
I was still holding Britta with my hand spread across her back and my other arm around her waist.
Tyson clocked my hands on her, and I knew he was irritated. I was getting sick of his protective brother act. She was in her twenties, not fourteen.
“Since you’re back,” he said, “maybe I can try another day to spend some time with Britta.”
“Yeah,” I said, my voice flattening, “I don’t know if that’ll be anytime soon. Maybe when everything calms down. Until then, I’ll be with Britta.”
Tyson’s face changed.
Not much, but just enough.
He didn’t like that one bit.
“You telling me I can’t see my sister until you figure out your club bullshit?”
I let Britta go, but stayed close enough that my arm brushed hers.
“Oh, you can see her whenever you want,” I said. “But I’m going to be there. It’s just a bit weird how you suggest I get out, and then I get shot at two minutes later.”
I hadn’t planned on saying it, not yet, but I was keyed up, pissed off, and standing there with my body still humming from almost catching bullets.
And Tyson had spent the last few days acting like I was the enemy while I was the one sleeping on couches, standing watch, and making sure his sister kept breathing.
His jaw flexed. “You trying to say something?” He took a step forward. “Just fucking say it, man.”
“Whoa, whoa,” Britta cut in, pulling out of the space between us and putting herself where both of us would have to go through her to get to the other.
“I think we all just need to calm down.” She pointed at me first. “You’re riding a high right now, Swift.
” Then at Tyson. “And you have just been an ass the past couple of days.”
That was fair.
Didn’t mean I liked hearing it.
“We should talk about this later,” she said.
Reasonable.
Level-headed and very Britta.
Tyson held up both hands and started backing toward his apartment. “How about I just stay away,” he said bitterly, “and then you and the biker can end up dead, yeah?” He turned and stormed down the hallway.
“Tyson,” Britta called after him, but she didn’t chase him. Instead, she ran her fingers through her hair and sighed like the weight of both of us had just landed square on her shoulders. “Did you really have to say that to him?” she asked me.
I shrugged and moved toward her still-open apartment door. “Your brother pisses me off, sugar. I’m just trying to keep you safe, and he’s acting like I’m trying to get you killed.”
She followed me inside, and I shut the door behind us.
“Can you blame him?” she asked. “I was shot.”
“Not by the club,” I pointed out.
She turned to face me fully. “No, but the two crazy guys were in the bar because of the club.”
I didn’t have an argument for that one and didn’t try to force one either.
Britta paced once in front of the couch, then turned back to me.
“You really think my brother had something to do with you being shot at?”
I moved to the living room window and cracked it open, then pulled a cigarette from my pocket and lit it. The first drag grounded me and I exhaled slowly.
“I didn’t,” I admitted. “Not until I told Twister and Wheels about what happened before I went downstairs.” I looked back at her. “The only people who knew I was going to be outside at that exact time were you and your brother, sugar.”
“You’ve never heard of a coincidence?” she asked.
Her voice wasn’t defensive exactly; more tired and trying to find something that made sense.
“Maybe whoever shot at you was headed to the clubhouse and just happened to see you outside. He took a shot because of your cut, not because my brother told him you’d be there. ”
That was possible. More than possible. Hell, in a city this size, with us making noise and wearing patches, it could’ve just been a lucky opportunity for the wrong person.
“Yeah,” I said. “Sure. That could’ve been what happened.” I took another drag. “But your brother also could’ve told them I was going to be there.”
Britta crossed her arms and looked down for a second before meeting my eyes again.
This was the line.
The one neither of us wanted to step over.
She understood what the club had to do. Understood that we had to consider every angle, every possibility, no matter how ugly.
And I understood Tyson was her brother. That I couldn’t just throw suspicion at him and expect her to nod along like it didn’t matter.
“So where does this leave us?” she asked finally. Her voice was softer now. Careful. “You really think my brother is part of all of this?”
I shook my head once. “No.” That much was true. “But I can’t rule it out.”
I let that sit between us.
Honest.
Ugly.
Necessary.
“So until I can…” I shrugged. “I’m just going to be with you. Twenty-four-seven, no matter what.”
Her brows lifted.
“That’s your plan?”
I took another drag. “Yeah.”
She looked at me for a long second.
“Just you and me?”
I shrugged again, smoke curling out into the open window. “Yeah.”