Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Lola
P ain.
That’s all I feel when I float back to consciousness.
It’s almost enough to make me want to sink again, but I’m all that stands between Driller and the kids.
With my eyes so swollen, my vision is limited.
I force them open anyway.
It takes me a moment to realize I’m staring at the ceiling as I slowly slide across the floor.
My head throbs like a bitch and my scalp feels like it’s on fire.
I lift my hand, which feels oddly detached, and try to feel for a lump.
Instead, my hand wraps around a wrist.
Driller.
The pieces snap into place.
It’s Driller’s hand in my hair, tugging me along the floor.
His movements are hampered by his injuries.
I feel a small amount of pride for hurting him.
He’s making slow progress because he’s crawling, yanking me toward him after he crawls forward a few steps.
I grin in glee. I must look a macabre sight, but I can’t help gloating.
He won’t be getting away so quickly this time.
“Fuck!” he screams in frustration before punching something.
The floor, maybe? As long as it’s not my head.
I barely have the strength to stay awake, fighting him off will take more energy than I have.
But while he’s focused on me, he’s not going after the kids.
I listen hard for anything over the sound of Driller’s heavy breathing and ranting, but I can’t hear anything else anymore.
Evan must have cried himself back to sleep.
Though I hate the thought of him being hungry, at least he’s safe.
I try to turn my head at the sound of shuffling, but when Driller’s face fills my limited vision, I flinch at the raw anger there.
“This is all your fucking fault!” he snarls, saliva dripping from his mouth onto my chin, like a rabid dog.
He grabs my hair, with both hands this time, lifting me slightly and eliciting a scream before he slams my head back to the floor.
He releases me so he can crawl over me.
I turn my head and vomit, feeling it run down my cheek and drip into my hair.
When I turn back, Driller’s face is so close to mine, I can taste his rancid breath.
“You just signed your own death?—”
“Just do it already. Don’t you watch fucking movies?” I snap, letting my terror fuel my anger.
“The bad guy always dies when he’s giving a lame-ass monologue. Just kill me already. This is how you like me, right—weak and unable to fight back? But then that’s the only time you stand a chance to win, isn’t it? Against an injured woman.” I laugh, and even though it makes me want to throw up all over again, I don’t regret it.
“You’re pathetic. When Hannibal gets you, and he will, I hope he takes his time. I want him to peel your skin from your bones. Then maybe I could get him to dip you in a vat of hand sanitizer.”
He hits me again, but this time, it’s an open-handed slap.
My cheek stings, but it causes no real damage.
He’s tiring.
“You hit like a bitch, you useless piece of shit. The only thing you’re good at is living in your brother’s shadow.”
An enraged snarl erupts from his chest as he lifts himself higher before pulling his arm back to hit me again.
With a battle cry of my own, I reach up and grab his head, shoving my thumbs into his eye sockets as hard as I can.
He screams like a banshee and grabs my wrists.
I hold on as tight as I can, my manic laughter bordering on hysterical, when a roar fills the room.
I still, my hands dropping like dead weights as pure, stark relief washes over me.
I know that sound.
Hannibal’s here.
I’ve no sooner thought it before the weight of Driller's gone as Hannibal tackles him to the ground. Chaos descends around me as a cacophony of noise threatens to make my head explode.
Gentle hands touch my face, but I flinch from the contact.
“It’s okay, Lola. You’re safe now.” Gunther’s voice shakes before he yells, “Hannibal, fuck! Lola needs you.”
“Oh fuck, Lola, what did that bastard do to you?” a new voice whispers. Snoopy .
There's more shuffling before I feel lips lightly pressing against my forehead.
“I’m here, doll. I’ve got you.”
“The kids,” I whisper.
“They’re safe, I swear. Byte, can you?—”
“No. Don’t let them see me like this.”
He hesitates for a minute before barking out orders for his med kit and to have the truck brought around.
“I grabbed it on the way over,” Gunther tells him.
“Lola? You still with me, doll?”
“I got nowhere else to be,” I jokingly whisper.
It falls flat when nobody laughs.
“We need to get you to the hospital, but I want to look you over first, so I can see what we’re working with. The more I can tell the doctors, the quicker they can fix you up.”
“Okay, Hannibal, I trust you.”
“Good girl.”
“Byte, text Millie from my cell and tell her to hang tight for a minute. Tell her Lola's okay so she doesn’t worry, and that you’ll come get her when it’s clear out here.”
“ Is Lola okay?” Byte asks quietly. Hannibal doesn’t answer, which is an answer in itself.
“Take Driller to the pit and guard him,” he grunts at someone. I hear more people moving around, but no sound comes from Driller.
“He’s not dead, is he?”
“Not just yet.”
“Make it hurt for me.”
“Oh, I will. That’s my vow to you.”
I let my eyes slip closed as I feel hands on my body and the soft snick of scissors as my T-shirt is cut open.
“Jesus fuck.” I hear curses, but the voices sound far away.
“Okay, screw this, I can’t risk that she doesn’t have internal bleeding. We need to move now.” Hannibal’s voice gets colder as he switches from the man I love to the man who’s trying to save my life.
“Gunther, grab me that robe from the back of the door and help me put it on her.”
I cry out when I’m jostled and eased into a sitting position. I whimper when the soft cotton drags over my skin, feeling myself sway a little.
“I’m going to pick you up and carry you down to the truck. It’s gonna hurt, but I’ll be as gentle as I can be.”
He doesn’t give me time to say anything. He scoops me up and tugs me to his chest.
“Can you bring the kids to the hospital? I need to see them, but I?—”
Byte cuts him off. “Go. I’ve got them.”
“Thank you.” Hannibal hurries us out the door and down the stairs. I cry out at the jostling but Hannibal doesn’t slow down until we get to the truck.
Someone opens the door and holds it so Hannibal can climb in, arranging me in his lap. They climb in beside us and slam the door as the front doors open and close.
“Get us to the hospital as fast as you can, Ferris.”
“On it, Prez.”
I try to open my eyes, but they’re too heavy so I give up. The smell of vomit makes me feel sick and embarrassed. I try to pull away from Hannibal, but he holds me tightly.
“I have sick in my hair. I don’t want to get it on you,” I whisper.
“I don’t give a single fuck, Lola. All I care about is you.”
“I’m sorry.” I feel more tears slip free, and god I hate crying.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Lola. Do you understand?” I hear Elmo’s voice from beside me.
“I killed a brother. He grabbed my ankle, and I just reacted. I shot him. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.”
There's silence for a moment before I feel Elmo moving closer. “Who did you shoot, Lola?
”
“I don’t know. I didn’t see his face. And then Driller was there and, and—” I hiccup as Hannibal soothes his hand through my hair, not giving a shit about the blood and vomit.
“That’s enough now. Don’t you worry, doll, everything’s going to be fine,” Hannibal murmurs gently as I feel exhaustion weighing me down.
I fight it, needing to tell him things first, just in case.
“If I don’t make it?—”
“Don’t you talk like that, Lola. Don’t you fucking dare,” he hisses.
I grab his hand and squeeze.
“If I don’t make it, love them enough for both of us.”
He groans like he’s in pain, but I keep going.
“I regret so many things, Hannibal. But not you. I’ll never regret being yours. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” I whisper, feeling my lips going numb.
“I love you,” I force out before the darkness pulls me under.
Murmured voices and furious whispers wake me.
I try to roll over but groan when it feels like someone stuck an ice pick through my brain.
And that’s not the only thing that hurts.
I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.
There isn’t a part of me that doesn’t hurt.
Fuck, even my hair and nails hurt.
“Lola?”
I try to answer, I really do, but I can’t form the words on my lips.
In the end, I let myself float away again.
The next time I wake up, my head feels a little clearer.
It still hurts like hell, but my thoughts aren’t quite so jumbled.
I open my eyes as much as I can, which honestly isn’t much.
I’m in a hospital. Not that I needed my vision for that.
Hospitals have a smell that people know the world over: disinfectant and sickness.
I turn my head and hiss at the throbbing.
Holy heck, I won’t be doing that again any time soon.
“Lola? Can you hear me?” Hannibal’s worried voice comes from my left.
My mouth is so dry it’s hard to speak.
“Hann..ibal.” I manage to get out, even though my throat is killing me.
Before I can stay anything else, I dissolve into a coughing fit that leaves me gasping for air, with tears streaming down my face.
Once the worst of it has subsided, I manage to take a deep, stuttering breath.
“The kids?”
“They’re fine. Byte’s gonna bring them here soon. Let me help you sit up a little so you can have some water.”
He adjusts the bed and helps move the pillows behind me, so I’m in a more comfortable position.
“What did the doctor say? How long until the swelling around my eyes goes down? I hate not being able to see properly.” It makes me paranoid that someone could sneak up on me.
Given my current circumstances, I can’t pretend that my fears aren’t justified.
“Drink this first, and I’ll tell you what I know. Small sips for me, okay?”
I open my mouth when I feel the straw against my lips and do as he asks.
The cold water feels heavenly on my throat, even though it hurts to swallow.
Once I’m done, I wait for him to put the water down and take a seat on the bed beside me.
Lifting my hand, which has a cannula in the back, he slides his large one underneath and slips his fingers through mine.
“I’ll call the doctor back in a second to check you over now you’re awake, but all things considered, you were really fucking lucky, doll.”
“I don’t feel lucky. I feel like I got run over by a bus.”
He leans down and smooths the hair off my face.
“You’re going to be sore for a while yet, but I’ll make that bastard pay for every mark he left on you.”
“I know you will.” I squeeze his hand.
“Tell me the rest.”
“You have a nasty concussion, but the rest of the damage is mostly superficial. You’re covered from head to toe in bruises, some places worse than others, like your throat and face. Once the swelling goes down, you won’t feel quite so tender. Miraculously, you have no broken bones or fractures. You have some minor internal bleeding, which the doctors are keeping an eye on. As it stands right now, they don’t think you’ll need surgery. But as a precaution, you need to stay in here for the next few days so they can monitor you.”
I sigh.
“I just want to go home. I don’t want to stay here without you.”
“If you think I’d let you sleep here alone after everything that happened, you’re out of your goddamn mind.”
Something settles inside me.
I want to feel strong and bold, especially after I fought Driller and not only survived, but held my own against him.
But I just feel vulnerable and, if I’m honest, a little breakable.
Logically, I might know I’m safe, but until the man is dead, I don’t think I’ll ever stop looking over my shoulder.
“How did he even get in, and who was it I shot?” I stop abruptly as the door is pushed open, and a tired-looking Gunther walks through with a cup holder full of drinks.
Behind him are Elmo and Ferris.
I tensely wait for some kind of condemnation, but all I see are looks of relief and guilt.
“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Gunther offers me a gentle smile, handing the drinks off to Hannibal so he can give me a gentle hug.
“It’s good we’re in the hospital, Gunther. It means when I rip off your arms for touching my woman, you won’t have far to go to get help.”
Gunther chuckles, but he pulls back and looks me over, his eyes eventually settling on mine.
“I won’t lie, Lola. You look like shit.”
I laugh at his unexpected words as Elmo shoves him aside.
“This is why you’re single, Gunther. You don’t tell a woman she looks like shit, even if she does.”
I shake my head at their ridiculousness, then groan when I remember why shaking my head is a bad idea.
“Shit, sorry, Lola,” Elmo apologizes before pressing a kiss to my forehead, ignoring the snarl coming from Hannibal.
“Glad to see you’re okay,” Ferris adds from across the room.
I look toward the sound of his voice and just make out him giving me a nod.
“You got an update for me?” Hannibal asks as everyone grabs a seat, except Ferris, who stays by the door.
“Both dogs were drugged.”
“Oh my god.”
“They’re okay. The vet is keeping them overnight just to be on the safe side, but he doesn’t see there being any lasting issues.”
“Shit, I never even gave them a thought.” Hannibal curses.
“I should have realized something was wrong when they didn’t chase after us trying to get to the house.”
“Cut yourself some slack, we had a lot going on.” Ferris tells him before looking to me.
“The guy Lola killed was Manny.”
I gasp.
Can’t say I was a fan of the guy in the beginning.
He might not have been outwardly hostile toward me, but he was always sucking up to Driller, so I kept out of his way.
It’s only since Hannibal became president that he’s been nice to me.
Damn it, I knew it was fake.
He gave me the same ick feeling that Khan did.
“Khan gave you an ick feeling?” Elmo says with interest.
“Crap, I didn’t mean to say all of that out loud. And it doesn’t matter. Manny?—”
“Broke into your home,” Ferris says softly.
“He wasn’t there to protect you, Lola, he was there with Driller.”
“But what if Driller was forcing him?”
“There isn’t a fucking thing Driller could have threatened me with that would ever have me laying a hand on you,” Gunther grunts.
“But not everyone thinks that way, do they?”
“Actually, they do.” It’s Elmo who speaks up now.
“We did you wrong. The whole club did. That’s on us, and we fucking know it. We’re trying to fix that, show you that we can be better men. And though you might never forgive us, that won’t ever stop us from trying. Manny clearly was not of the same thinking. He was very much part of the Khan and Driller group.”
“Manny killed two prospects,” Ferris states, making me hiss.
“What?”
“It’s how he got Driller inside undetected. I don’t know who drugged the dogs, but it was Manny who killed Pan so Driller could come in the back. He then took out the rookie who was at the front gate with him. My guess is he’d have injured himself and placed the blame on Driller to hide his tracks.”
I feel a pang of sorrow for both the prospects.
I didn’t know the new guy, but Pan was sweet to me and always had a smile on his face.
Hannibal slides his arm around my shoulders.
“You got justice for them, doll. And saved yourself and our kids, buying time until I got there.
“Poor Pan.
” I lay my head against Hannibal, feeling so freaking tired.
“The cops will want to talk to you. Tell them a man broke in wearing a ski mask and attacked you. The kids were having a sleepover at the clubhouse to give you a break. That way, they won’t need to interview Millie. Tell them he attacked you, and you lost consciousness, and when you woke up, you were here. I’ll tell them I came home and found you passed out and whoever was responsible was long gone. That’s when they’ll likely tell me Driller's missing.”
“Driller told me you knew he was awake. Why didn’t you say anything?” I try to keep the hurt from my voice, but I’m not sure I do when he tenses.
“He lied, Lola. It’s what he does. Do you honestly think I’d have left you alone if I knew?”
“No, I’m sorry,” I mumble, feeling my eyes getting heavy again. My head feels like it’s swimming.
“Shit. Lay down, Lola. You need more rest.”
“I’m fine.”
“Sure you are, doll. But close your eyes for me anyway,” he orders as he lowers me back down.
“Okay,” I whisper before I drift off once more.