“We’re fuckin’ Kings,” Bullseye, who’d come alongside me, growls. “We get right back up when we’re knocked down.” He might have been about to say more when his phone rings. Taking it out of his pocket, he holds up a finger for silence and walks away from us.
“Brother, you look dead on your feet,” Saint tells me. “At least you’ve got a room. You should make use of it.”
“As have you, yet you’re still standing here,” I throw back.
Shrugging, he replies, “Don’t really think I can get any shut-eye before I hear how Tempest and Genie are doing.”
Going behind the bar, I pour myself a shot and offer one to him. “Seems like it’s going to be a long night.” I glance at the bodies in various stages of sleep, some being used as pillows by the club girls. “Where’s Stalker and Words?”
“Bullseye gave up his room for them. He’s going to sleep in his office. Freak’s got Ace on concussion lookout.” He pauses and shakes his head, “Fucker refused to have anyone else doing it.”
This brings to mind one of the many problems we’ll need to get to in the morning. Namely, how to cope with the permanent loss of our bunkhouse. “When New Mexico goes home, I’ll give up my room. I’ve got a house. I don’t need it.”
He lets out a heavy sigh. “Can’t even think about how to fix this shit right now, but we’re going to be strapped for space, Brother. Guess Pippa and I could find somewhere to live outside the compound.”
My brow furrows. “That’s still a risk for Pippa. Someone might recognise her.”
He nods. “Yeah, I’d prefer more water to pass under that bridge before a woman, who’s supposed to be dead, is discovered alive and talking. And there’s the baby to think about. No denying the MDMC have left us with a fuckin’ mess.”
I’ve no words, so just give his shoulder a supportive squeeze.
Bullseye returns, a spring in his step that wasn’t there earlier. “Just got a call from Win. Tempest is conscious, Genie’s still out of it, but the odds are he’s going to recover.”
I lean into the bar, needing something to help me stay upright as the relief going through me makes my legs weak. The VP just raises his eyes to the heavens, and then back down, as if thanking a deity I know he doesn’t believe in. But whether or not a higher power exists, someone had to have been watching out for us tonight. Bikes can be replaced or fixed, and buildings rebuilt. But brothers? They’re irreplaceable. And our one, albeit devastating loss, is nothing compared to that suffered by our enemies.
“Get up to your women,” Prez addresses us both. “Bigfoot’s coming back in the morning. Well…” he glances down at his phone. “Almost that now. So, let’s assume it will be midday at least before we see them. We’ll have a sit-down at church and thrash this shit out. Until then, we all need some shut-eye to be able to function.”
I’m not going to argue. Now I know my brothers are going to recover, the last of whatever restless energy I have leaves me. Confirming it, by opening my mouth in a wide yawn, after which, I wish my VP and prez a good night.
Saint’s not far behind me. I hear his steps on the stairs as I reach the top. Quietly as I can, I open the door to my room, step inside, and take a moment to admire, by way of the bedside light she’d left on, the sight of Bron in my bed, and Trip in that cot that was brought in for him.I could have lost them both tonight.If Bigfoot had waited before mounting up and riding out… The outcome doesn’t bear thinking about.
I strip down to my boxers then carefully slide into bed, switching off the light. Automatically, Bron turns over and snuggles into my arm, laying her head against my chest. For a moment, I think she’s woken, but her steady breathing shows she hasn’t, and she’s reached for me in her sleep.
I wouldn’t have it any other way, I think to myself, as I lose the battle to keep my eyes open, and soon I follow her into dreamland.
When I awake, I’m alone. Wiping the remnants of sleep from my eyes, I have the quickest shower known to man, then get dressed just as quickly, anxious to know where my woman and son are, and how they’re coping after last night’s activities.
As I reach the stairs, the smell of bacon makes my stomach growl, reminding me just how long it’s been since I had eaten. The clubroom is loud and busy, men standing or seated with plates of food in their hands, and there’s my Bronwyn… I pause for a second just watching her, she’s examining her patients she treated last night, checking on them, replacing bandages where needed, and/or handing out painkillers. She’s professional, spending just enough time with each brother before moving on to the next. Mentally comparing her to how Doc used to work, I reckon we’ve upgraded our medical treatment.
I plan to leave her to get on with her ministrations to the injured, but then I realise there’s no sign of Trip, and hasten my steps to get to her.
She reads my mind as when I get close, she casually throws the comment over her shoulder as she’s assessing Paint’s arm, “Trip’s in the kitchen. Oh, and don’t go too far, I need to change your bandage later.”
Content to be last on her list, I raise my chin, then make my way to the kitchen.
“We’ll need more food ready for when the New Mexico guys get here.” Pippa’s instructing the sweet butts. “I might have to send Knight out to get more supplies.”
“We can make it work,” Trixie answers her. Then, in a more sombre tone, she advises, “And go easy on the man. He’s taking Heathen’s loss hard.”
Fuck, I hadn’t even considered how difficult it would be for Knight, and not only because more work would fall on him, but because he’s lost his friend. Men form tight bonds when they prospect together.
“I liked Heathen,” Heaven states. “Shame he never patched in. I was looking forward to trying him out.”
“Me too,” Star says.
That’s when I decide it’s not an appropriate conversation to be having in front of Trip. Spying him sitting at the table with paper and crayons in front of him, I walk in, shoot a warning glance at the loose-mouthed women, and crouch down.
“How you doing, Trip?”
