"Don't flatter yourself, President-In-Training," she said, shooting him a wicked smirk even as Fallon bristled under her condescension. "I'm not here because I want to be here."
"Then why are you, babe?" Fallon asked, making Danny's eyes get small, annoyed at the pet name, knowing he was using it to try to make her feel small.
"One of my men was hit in that shootout," she explained.
"I'm fucking heartbroken about it," Fallon drawled.
"Anyway," she went on, looking at me instead. "He was in a medically-induced coma until this morning when he finally woke up. He was asking for you."
"Asking for me?" I asked, brows furrowing.
"Please," she said, rolling her eyes, "I don't get it either. Maybe he hit his head or something. But he practically begged me to come and get you."
"Listen, Danny, we're not at your fucking beck and call," Fallon told her, shrugging, making my decision for me.
"Listen, I'm not pretending to understand it. I just know Toll told me to get that guy he fought at the club. So here I am. Getting him. Look," she went on, sighing, when we didn't seem swayed. "Maybe he's not right anymore," she said, waving to her temple. "Maybe he's whacked out on pain meds. I don't know. But in case it's something to do with you assholes, I figured I would let you know he wanted to talk to you," she told us, turning to walk away.
"And why the fuck would you want to help us in any way?"
"Help you," she scoffed, shaking her head. "No. But the way I see it, if we have a common enemy in this town, one that can cause some major shit to go down, we are stronger going at them from all sides. If anyone is going to take down your cute little club, Little Prez, it's going to be me," she said, climbing back onto her bike. "He's at Liberty. Room two-fifty-three."
And with that, she was gone, leaving us standing there lost in our thoughts for a few moments.
"What's the move?" I asked finally. "Go or don't go?"
"It's a hospital," he mused aloud. "It's not like they are going to ambush us there."
"Yeah. And if Danny is right and he has some information we need to know..."
"That's what I'm thinking. But I'm coming with," he said, looking over at Brooks. "You'll fill everyone in?" he asked.
"Already working on it," Brooks said, typing away on his phone.
Brooks was probably a better brother than the two of us put together, always on his toes, always knowing the right move. I guess being one of the few current younger members who wasn't a legacy made him feel like he needed to really earn his place, prove himself.
"Alright good. Thanks. We are heading out," Fallon said, nodding toward our bikes.
And just like that, we were off.
Maybe on a mission to talk to someone with a bent brain, or high on painkillers, but regardless of those possibilities, I had this gut feeling that this was going to be important.
We made our way into the room what seemed like just a couple minutes after Danny who had stopped to grab donuts.
Toll was sitting up in the hospital bed, his large body nearly eating the whole thing up. He looked pale and tired considering he'd been sleeping since the night of the shooting, but alert. Not crazy-eyed.
"Where is she?" he barked as soon as his gaze fell on me, voice rough from disuse, but loud, bouncing off the walls.
"Where is who?" I asked, shaking my head when Fallon looked at me.
"Andi," he said, the name a bullet wound to my minuscule heart.
"Andi?" I repeated, still not understanding.
"Yes, Andi. Where the fuck is she? Do they still have her?"
"Does who still have her?" Fallon asked.
"No one has her," I said at almost the same time, thinking maybe he was fucked in the head after all.
"Toll," Danny said, pressing a hand to his arm, trying to calm him down as the machine he was attached to start to beep a little more incessantly.
"She was there with me," he said, voice rising, nearly yelling. "At the pizza place. We were sitting out front eating pizza."
The jealousy at his words were a stabbing sensation to the cut, the knife turning, creating maximum damage.
"The fuck are you talking about?" I growled, stalking closer to the bed.
"I was at the bar when she got out of work. Her stomach was growling. I suggested the pizza place. She was fucking there," he insisted. "And then the shooting started. She couldn't get inside."
"No, man. No," I objected, shaking my head, wondering if he was confusing Andi for the other unknown woman the cops had no lead on.
"Yes, fucking yes. She was there. And then I got hit. And they came and grabbed her. I was barely fucking conscious but I heard her screaming, fucking screaming for me to help as they pulled her away and shoved her into a trunk. I... I blacked out. I couldn't fucking save her."