Page 38 of Lost King

Emerson

Collapsing to my knees, the gravel from the clubhouse parking lot sends sharp piercing pains up my shins as I begin to vomit what little bit of food I was able to hold down. But the pain in my legs doesn't compare to the pain in my heart. I wish with all I am that I could unsee what I just saw in that box. Moments ago, one by one I watched as the men came out of the room they hold church. Each man walked through the clubhouse with fire in their eyes. Each one's body language spoke as if it were saying leave me the fuck alone—I'm on a mission. That mission being murder. Not two minutes after Logan and Gabriel walked out of the clubhouse they returned. Only this time I couldn't decipher the looks that marred their faces. When they reemerged, this time with Jake in tow, I knew something was up. I wanted answers. Only I was not prepared for the response I got when I stupidly followed them out to the parking lot to where the guys were standing around a package sitting on the ground. I walked up behind Jake just as he flipped the top open. Inside—Quinn's cut covered in blood, accompanied by the very distinct smell of urine.

"Fuck!" I hear Jake hiss just before he hauls me up into his arms and carries me back inside. Through my drunk state, I feel Jake lay me down on a bed. An all too familiar smell tells me I am in Quinn's room. The scent causes me to cry even harder. It comforts me and causes my heart to ache all at the same time. I can't imagine not having his arms wrap around me ever again as I breathe in his scent.

"Sweetheart, I need ya to calm down. Take slow deep breaths," Jake says, and I realize I am on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Slow, doc. In and out. There ya go."

Blinking away my tears, I do as Jake encourages while keeping my eyes on his. After several cleansing breaths, the fog clears from my brain.

"I know what you saw was some fucked up shit, doc. I know it will do no good for me to tell you not to worry, but you need to get your emotions in check. Think about the baby."

Shit! He's right. Jake is right. This stress is not good for my baby.

"Quinn would kick my ass if I let anything happen to you or his baby. So, do me a solid, doc and let's do what we need to do to make sure the two of you stay safe and healthy, yeah?"

Once I agree, he continues, "I want you to lay down and rest for a few minutes. I'm going to send Bella in here with something to eat. I know you're scared right now, sweetheart, but don't go gettin' inside your head. We can't go off the what-ifs. The what ifs don't mean shit. You have people here who love you, Emerson. I want you to cling to them. We're your family and family is what's going to get you through this, ya got me?"

"Yeah, Jake, I got you."

Satisfied with my answer he steps out into the hallway where Bella is waiting. He mutters something to her, and she nods then walks off.

"Bella will be back in a minute. Close your eyes and rest."

Letting out a deep sigh, I squeeze my eyes shut and think to myself there is no way I can rest right now, but no sooner do those thoughts creep into my brain when a sudden wave of exhaustion takes over, and I fall asleep.

I wake sometime later to the sound of clinking glass, and when I open my eyes, I see Bella setting down a tray of food on the table beside the bed.

"Are you hungry?"

"Not really, but I know I need to eat something," I say sitting up in the bed and leaning back against the headboard. "How long have I been out?"

"About two hours. I came in earlier, but decided it was best to let you get some sleep."

"Bella, you don't have to fuss over me. It's late. The kids—" I go to say when she stops me.

"The kids are fine. They're with Alba, Grace, and Mila." Picking the tray up off the table, Bella brings it over and sets it on the bed in front of me. The delicious smell of chicken noodle soup causes my tummy to rumble. Knowing Bella, the soup is homemade. None of that can stuff for her. Plucking the roll off the plate, I tear a piece off and dip it into the soup, then pop it in my mouth. Thank God my stomach doesn't protest.

"Soup was about the only thing I could keep down when I was pregnant with little Jake and feeling nauseous," she says softly.

"It's perfect. Thank you, Bella," I choke out. "It's funny you know. Someone who was once the patient is taking care of the doctor," I observe.

Bella places her hand on my arm, squeezing gently. "No, it's family taking care of family."

A beat of silence later she adds, "you'll get through this Em. The club will find Quinn. The guys will stop at nothing to bring him home."

"I keep thinking about what those men are doing to him. What he must be going through," I choke out. "They sent his cut, Bella."

"What are you talking about, sent his cut?"

"I followed the guys outside earlier. Someone delivered a package. Inside was Quinn's cut. It was covered in blood and piss."

"Oh my God. I didn't know. Logan hasn't told me much of anything."

"If those men can beat the hell out of a child without an ounce of remorse, then imagine what they are capable of doing to Quinn. Clearly, them sending his cut is a warning or message. What I want to know is what they want."

"I don't have any of the answers, Em, but I have faith in the club, that they will take care of everything. Our job as their women is to keep it together, and stay strong."