She walked ahead. We both had things, I suspected, we hadn’t told the other. But damn if there wasn’t anyone quite like her.
Damn if I wasn’t trending toward following in the footsteps of just about every other officer in this club.
* * *
I got to the hospital before any of the other Black Reapers, having the advantage of being with Justine just before this. But it wouldn’t have made a difference, anyway, because when I got there, Lilly and Roger were inside, visiting Cole.
I only got a glimpse before Justine advised me to stay away while she checked in. But it was enough to see that Cole looked happy, if a little bit slow and dazed. It wasn’t so slow as to make me think he’d suffered some sort of damage, just the kind of slow someone had when they first woke up from a long nap.
I walked back with the prospects, who were smiling and talking about how they couldn’t wait to get back at the Bandits at this time. I stood in silence, knowing that while we would fight the Bandits anyway, our next step depended almost entirely on what Cole wanted us to do. He’d suffered the worst; he deserved to give the next order.
When the officers moved in, the prospects went silent immediately.
“How is he?” Brock said to me.
“Awake and with Lilly,” I said. “I think we should let them talk. We need—”
And then Justine came into the room. Her smile immediately shifted to a scowl when she saw Brock, but at least it rebounded to something of calm when she began speaking.
“Lilly and Roger just left,” she said. “His vitals are stable, but we recommend not overwhelming him. So you can visit him, but try not to overwhelm him.”
“Please, he’s a Black Reaper. He’ll be fine,” Brock said.
Justine glared at him but said nothing. She looked at me. I gave no motion—I did not want to look like I was somehow trying to undermine Brock right now.
Justine nodded to the hallway, and we all walked past her. By now, we knew where Cole’s room was with ease; we knew this hospital wing almost as well as we knew our own club house.
Brock was the first to enter. I could practically hear the giddiness in his tone, the eagerness to see his boss awaken. One by one, the rest of us came in and shook Cole’s hand or patted him on the shoulder. Through it all, Cole looked more determined than I’d ever seen him to date. Slow? Yes.
But having forgotten anything? No.
“Welcome back from the dead,” Connor said, the last person to greet Cole as Brock shut the door.
“I wasn’t going to die in a bomb blast like that,” Cole said. “I’ve been in enough shootouts and warfare situations that I wasn’t going to let a stupid attack like that take us out.”
He looked at the rest of us. There looked to be pride there, as if he justknewthat we’d handled our shit while he was out.
Unfortunately, we couldn’t live up to that.
“What’s the situation?”
Brock sighed.
“We attacked the Bandits in retaliation. They took over that one neighborhood where we killed Damian. It was a fucking disaster. Lost some prospects, they had RPGs and grenades…I can’t even pretend to find a positive. We took a beating.”
“Fuck,” Cole said.
“I sent Steele and Zack to Springsville to try and get help from the California Reapers, but—”
“You drove all the fucking way out? You didn’t call Butch?”
“He wasn’t answering, and it was rather urgent.”
Cole shook his head in disbelief.
“You guys are committed; I’ll give you that. Can’t imagine being on a fucking chopper for twelve hours straight, though.”
“Wasn’t the most comfortable ride I’ve ever had, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle,” Steele said.
