Spun (Kings of Chaos 1)

“To the hospital. Jenna can talk to them. She knows just as much as me about my car.”

“Why?”

“I want to make sure Wizard is okay.”

“We’re watching him in shifts.”

“I know, I know. Just…appease an old lady, please?”

“If that’s what you want to do, Nevada.”

“I do.” I grab my purse from behind the counter and rush out with him trailing behind me. Something is nagging me. We pull out of the parking lot as the police pull up. My brain continues to try to make connections. I’m missing something. An image of Fuse talking with one of the new prospects flashes in my mind. Steel. The welder who’d joined up a few months back. I smack Wheels’ shoulder. “Pull over!” I yell.

He weaves between two cars and slides into an empty parking spot on the side of the street.

“Call Stone! Call him now.”

He pulls a cell phone out of his cut and makes the call. “Pres, yeah everything is fine. I was bringing Nevada to the hospital and she freaked out.”

“Give me the phone, Wheels.” I snatch the device from him. “Stone. We need someone to check on Wizard right now. I think Fuse is in on this thing with Trixie and maybe Steel.”

“We know, Nevy. People are on their way to the hospital now.”

It all clicks. “Oh my God! It’s his turn to watch Wizard today, isn’t it? Is Wizard okay?”

“I don’t have time to talk about this with you. Don’t go to the hospital, Nevy. Last thing we need to worry about is one more person. You understand?”

Everything in me screams in protest. “You expect me to just sit here and twiddle my thumbs?”

“I expect you to listen and obey your President.” His voice is distant and cutting in and out. He’s on the move. “I don’t even want you to go home right now. This attack is centered on the two of you. Come to the club. I’m calling lockdown on you. Put Wheels back on.”

I hand Wheels the phone. The argument is over. The verdict’s been laid down. My head hurts and my stomach is churning like the rapids. I hate the waiting. It’s slow torture.

“We’re going to the clubhouse, Nevada.”

“Yeah.” I wrap my arms around his waist and hope for the best. I can’t help anyone if I’m captured and used as collateral. I know what happens to women who get caught up in war. It’s never pretty, and if they do make it out alive, they’re never the same. I try to turn my head off.

Buildings fly by in a gray blur as Wheels navigates the traffic. He’s speeding and doing tricks, which means we’re being followed or he’s being extra cautious. I turn and look over my shoulder. The cars all blend together in a homogenous background that could easily hide friend or foe. Tiny beads of sweat form on my forehead. Reality sinks in. I could’ve lost my life today if I’d been inside my car. There’s no way to tell how many other presents have been left behind. People with inside information went to our enemies. The fallout could be catastrophic.

We pull up to the clubhouse and we’re greeted by a handful of prospects at the gate. Security has been tripled. They open the gate and we drive through. I’m barely off the bike before I’m escorted inside. Pres is not taking any chances here. Inside, I see a number of men gathered. They’re gathering for church. My stomach twists itself into knots. “I’m going to head into Wizard’s room.”

“Probably the best place for you to stay, unless you’re getting food,” Mean says. The grizzly old member has been around forever. His hair is more salt than pepper while his round face is riddled with aging lines and scars. He would scare the shit out of me if I didn’t know him as a grandfatherly figure.

Unable to speak around the bile rising in my throat, I nod my head and rush past him to the privacy of the empty hallway. Unlocking the combo lock I slip inside. The place still smells like my man. It’s a small comfort in the midst of a storm. I close and lock the door then rush to the bathroom. I fall to my knees just in time to empty my stomach into the toilet. My skin is clammy and the room sways. Closing my eyes I pray for everything to settle. I wipe my forehead, sit back and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Still woozy, I slowly gain my feet, flush the toilet, and walk over to the sink to brush my teeth and splash water on my face.

The woman looking back at me in the mirror is ashen with dilated eyes. I look terrified. But I think maybe I earned the right. I stumble to the bed and lay down, fully prepared to take a sadness nap. Closing my heavy eyelids, I pray when I wake up this will all have been just a nightmare.

Chapter Eight

Pounding pulls me away from the thick sludge of sleep. I roll onto my back and rub my eyes, struggling to free myself from the bonds of my nap.

“Nevada, you need to get up. We have to get to the hospital.”

The words fill me with dread. I push up into a sitting position and move from the bed. Swaying, I grab the bedpost. “I’m up. Give me a second.” I take deep breaths to steady myself, smooth my hair away from my face, and open the door. The sight of my father standing at the door makes my stomach ache. “Dad, what’s going on?”

“We’re not sure. His numbers are charting. We think he may be trying to wake. You know he’s been responding to light and sound. Today, he actually opened his eyes and vocalized.”

Excitement hums through my veins. “And the situation?”