Her smile turns shy and warm all at once. “Good.”
I walk away before I do something I’ll regret, but I can feel her watching me as I dump our plates and head towards the door.
This is dangerous territory.
But for the first time, I don’t hate the idea of standing right in the middle of it.
***
Siege has given Rick time off from his prospecting duties because we need to keep our business afloat and protect Natalie. That’s more than a full-time job right now. We’re really busting our asses to keep the routes operational. Rick went on the first run today. He was supposed to call me when he finished up but he’s not answering his phone. I’m guessing he’s still pissed after our fight last night.
I’m halfway through my route. Even when I’m trying to stay focused on the road, Natalie’s face keeps popping into my mind. Shoving it aside, I take a turn left onto a side street.
I jump when my phone goes off. Cursing under my breath, I grab it from its cradle and hit accept, not bothering to look at the caller ID, and answer roughly, “About time, asshole.”
“Bear,” Siege says.
Shit! I quickly try and do damage control. “Sorry, Prez, I thought you were Rick.”
Although he’s only said my name, there’s something in the tone of his voice that unsettles me. He’s got bad news and I quickly steel myself to hear it as I jerk the steering wheel to the side and pull off the road.
“What’s up? Is Natalie okay?”
“Yeah,” he says quickly. “It’s Rick. He’s been in an accident.”
There’s a pause on the line, short but heavy. The silence tells me more than words ever could.
“Where is he?” I ask. “I’ll come right away.”
“County Road Twelve. About a mile past the old feed store. Rage called. An ambulance got called out. Rick went down hard. Just so you know, the cops are there too.”
“I’m not far from there now. Tell Rage I can be there in about seven minutes,” I say. “If they’re gone when I get there, I’ll go straight to the hospital.”
“It’s looking serious,” Siege adds.
“Is Natalie still at the clubhouse?” I ask before getting off the phone.
Siege exhales, and I can hear the relief in his voice when he speaks. “Yeah. She’s helping Crow’s boys with their math homework. Rigs and I are lookin’ out for her.”
“Does she know?”
“Not the full details. I’m waitin’ on an update from Rage,” he says.
“Thanks for that, Prez.” I barely get the words out because I’m choked with emotion. Rick is my brother, my family. Maybe not by blood, but definitely by choice.
“Bear, just fuckin’ get there safely,” he tells me.
I disconnect the call and shove my phone into my pocket. Safety isn’t the thing I’m thinking about right now. Speed is. If he’s on the ground, I need to help him back up again, in whatever form that takes.
I tear out, spinning my wheels and prepare myself for what I’ll see when I get there. And it’s a fuckin’ good thing I did because when I approach the scene, there are police cruisers with red and blue strobe lights flashing, blood on the pavement and cops milling around. I pull up just in time to see two EMS workers loading him into the ambulance. I can tell by the looks on their faces that they doesn’t have a second to spare to stand around and talk. The double doors swing closed and I hear the latch click.
I want to follow them to the hospital, but Rage calls my name. The smell of gasoline and burnt rubber assaults my nostrils as I quickly make my way over to where Rage is squatting down beside the mangled mess that was once Rick’s motorcycle. I squat down beside him and look over the twisted bike. There is the faint scent of something chemical that I can’t quite place.
The frame is bent beyond repair. His headlight is shattered, the clear glass scattered across the road. It makes my stomach turn to see the paint job Rick was so proud of scraped off in long, jagged streaks from where it made contact with the pavement.
Rage’s expression is grim. He states quietly, “Rick’s gonna be in the operating room for a while. You need to see this.”
I open my mouth to speak, but before I can, one of the officers approaches us.
