8
Chance
I finally crashed about an hour into Hunter’s third surgery, and the only reason I even made it that long was Veronica’s infuriating phone call. She has a very nice voice, something between a pretty bird’s song and what I imagine a siren’s song to be. At first she even fooled me into thinking she really was concerned about me, although that made no sense given how she’s treated me so far. I kinda liked the thought that she was worried about me. For the second it lasted, anyway, before she went and accused me of doing something to Harper. The insinuation pissed me off so much more, because Harper is so fucking cut up over what happened to Hunter she can hardly speak. And here’s this spoiled little rich girl playing at savior of all the lost girls, or whatever the hell she thinks she’s doing, thinking she needs to save her from me.
My father took me to Sanctuary and I remember none of the ride. I woke up in a soft bed, the rising sun shining directly into my face as it peeked over the redwoods in the distance outside the window. This used to be my father’s bedroom back before he met my mom and they moved to a house on the outskirts of Pleasantville. Back when this place was the Devil’s Nightmare MC clubhouse and all the brothers lived here. The parties were out of this world amazing according to all the old-timers, including my dad, but these days only hazy memories of those times still remain. And the parties at the new clubhouse at the foot of the hill this mansion is on are pretty damn awesome too.
Parties. They’ll end for a good long time if Hunter doesn’t make it. Maybe forever.
And with that sobering thought, I try to leap out of bed, forgetting about all the fact that my arms and back are covered in stitches. The ones on my back are the worst and force me to rise slowly, moving like an old man. Then I give taking a shower a fair shot, which isn’t easy with all the bandages I’m covered with and change into a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt. My cut is in the saddle bags on my bike, and my bike is either still in the parking lot of that seedy strip club, or, more likely, disassembled for parts by the Riders.
The house is quiet and the creaking of the wooden floorboards as I leave the room sounds ominous and annoying at the same time.
Where is everyone?
But someone would’ve woken me if there was news, I’m sure.
I hear voices coming from Cross’ office as I descend the stairs to the lobby, subdued yet loud somehow. There’s no trace of the blood that covered the black and white tiles just two nights ago, but the room still smells of it and I kinda still see it. I wonder who cleaned it up, I hope it didn’t fall to Roxie… and that’s as far as I can let that train of thought take me. Any further, and I’ll just jump on the first bike I see and kill the first Rider I meet.
Before I can even begin deciding whether to join the meeting in Cross’ office or wait to be called, the door flies open and Hawk, our tech man, comes striding out, followed by Tank.
“You’re up,” my dad says. “Come.”
He sounds tired and his speech, though clear, is slow and drawn out.
I nod at Hawk then follow my father back into Cross’ office where he, Ice, Scar and Rook are gathered. Cross and Tank are leaning on the wall by the fireplace, while the black leather sofa and matching armchairs are taken up by the other four. They all look like they could use a good night’s sleep or two, so why the hell did they just let me sleep?
“Is it on?” I ask. “Are we riding?”
“Sit,” Cross says and sends my heart racing.
I just stand there in the doorway, unable to move a muscle.
“How’s Hunter?”
The air in this room feels like a funeral and the seconds while I wait for an answer tick by slower than years.
“Stable,” Cross finally tells me, his eyes two black stones. “Sit.”
I’d rather stand, but I’m not about to argue with Cross, so I take the middle road and perch on the edge of his sturdy desk.
“We’re taking the Riders out. All of them,” Cross says solemnly and the silence that follows is leaden, adding to the sense that we’re gathering for a funeral, which was already overwhelming before.
“Good, I’m ready,” I say.
“You will sit this one out,” Cross says.
“The hell I will.”
Cross shoots me a hard look of warning, but I already regret speaking to him in that disrespectful tone.
“I just want to kill all those bastards,” I say in a quieter voice. “For Hunter.”
“What the hell were you two thinking going in there?” Ice barks.
He’s normally a very quiet and composed man, and to see him riled up like this is alarming all on its own. But he’s Hunter’s uncle and always treated him like a son, so it’s understandable.
“Trixie,” Cross answers instead of me and I just nod. Figures Cross would know all about her, even though Hunter tried to keep her a secret from his parents these last couple of years.