Until today. Until this…whatever it was.
And the scary part was that it came out of the blue. There was no opposing force, no cops, no turf war with a neighboring club, no old enemy seeking revenge. None of those myriad of dangers that I had mentally prepared myself might hurt him over the years.
His body simply malfunctioned and gave out.
“Lila.”
I turned to see Pretty Boy striding into the waiting room, steady as a rock when my world had turned upside down. I hated how good he looked, with his broad shoulders and his sharp, hazel eyes locked on me.
“What happened?” Pretty Boy asked. “How is he?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t heard anything. He’s still in the ER.”
“What about you?”
Pretty Boy searched my face and reached out like he was prepared to pull me into a hug. I reared back, putting a hand up to ward him off.
“I’m fine. Don’t touch me.”
He withdrew his hand and crossed his arms instead. Guilt knotted in my stomach for sounding like a bitch. He was just trying to help.
But if he touched me, I knew I would break. And I never cried in front of anyone. Especially not the club, full of tough, tattooed bikers. I’d worked too hard over the years to earn their respect, to view me as a woman with more substance than eye candy or Daddy’s spoiled little girl.
“I texted everyone to let them know what’s going on,” Pretty Boy said. “And we’ll take shifts in the waiting room to make sure that someone is always here for Hillbilly.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I protested.
“Good. Neither are we.”
Pretty Boy settled into a nearby chair, knees spread wide, with a stubborn look that dared me to fight him on this. Under normal circumstances, I gladly took every opportunity to argue with him about anything, no matter how inconsequential it might be.
But I didn’t have the fire in me this time.
“You can do whatever you want,” I muttered, turning away.
A moment later, the waiting room door opened and Hades emerged. His usual gruff expression was softened with concern.
“Hey, Lila,” he said. “How are you holding up? Jenny called and she’s on her way.”
“I should have known that gossip would spread with lightning speed around here.”
“Did you really think we would let you go through this alone?” Hades countered, giving my shoulder a squeeze.
Despite the challenges that accompanied club life, I wouldn’t trade it for the world. These people had become my big, boisterous family. Even though I didn’t wear the cut and colors, the umbrella of the club’s protection and support extended to anyone associated with their members—wives, girlfriends, kids, nieces, nephews. We looked out for each other when we needed it the most.
Within the next five minutes, bikers began pouring into the waiting room.
There was Tarzan, with his wife, Keely, and their son, Kenny, riding on Tarzan’s shoulders.
Trooper followed at their heels, with his girlfriend—my best friend—Shea. They had been dating for almost a year by now, and I had a feeling that she would be wearing an engagement ring pretty soon.
Then came Ironside, Vice President of the club, with Psycho, Brass, and Recoil.
When I was little, Mom and Dad got divorced because of the club. Mom didn’t want her sweet baby girl raised around all those outlaw bikers, but I took to the lifestyle like a duck to water. I had these bastards eating out of the palm of my hand by the time I was two years old, charming them with my laughter and attitude. They would lay down their lives to keep me safe.
Mom didn’t see it that way though. She wanted more for her daughter than hanging out at a biker bar, and I didn’t really blame her for that.
Eventually, the tension reached a boiling point and Mom couldn’t take it anymore. After the divorce, she moved to the east coast and got remarried. She became the proud stepmother to two angelic girls who were nothing like me.
