“Haven, too?” Slider rasped, knowing how much that would tear Cora up. But before he let Mav respond, he gasped. “Ben! Where’s Ben?” How the hell had it taken his head so long to think to ask?
Grasping his shoulder, Maverick looked him in the eye. “Phoenix has him upstairs. He’s fine. And the club’s on its way.” Dark meaning hung on the words. They were going to fix this. And thank fuck the clubhouse was so close.
But Slider shook his head, grief raging inside him. “Go. Go now. Go get those fuckers before they get away, Maverick. This does not get to happen!” he shouted, Cora’s blood starting to soak through the towels. “You know they’ll just keep coming if you don’t.”
“I know, man, but I’m not leaving you all unprotected.”
As if Mav’s words beckoned their brothers, a monstrous roar sounded out in the night. The sound of two dozen motorcycles descending like the hounds of hell.
“We’re covered. Now, go,” Slider growled, part of him wishing he could be the one to wring the life from Dominic’s and Davis’s necks with his bare hands. But if he couldn’t do it, his brothers would. “And make them pay, Maverick! Make them fucking pay.”
People came and went. Voices shouted and talked. But Slider had a hard time keeping track of anything besides Cora and Sam after that. Cora, who lay far too still. And Sam, who’d pulled himself into a sitting position as he held the towel tied around his left arm.
“Cora,” he cried. “She saved me.”
“I know, buddy,” Slider said, his hands pressed to Cora’s worst wounds as if he could maybe hold her in this world with his skin and his bones alone. “I know. How you doing? You’re being so damn brave, Sam.”
“I don’t feel brave,” the boy said, shaking his head and trying to rein in his tears.
“That just proves how brave you really are,” Slider said, filled with a tragic, wrenching pride in his son’s courage in the face of all this chaos. “And we’re gonna save Cora. Don’t you worry.” But Slider didn’t know if he believed the words. There was so much blood. And she was so still. And her skin was so pale. How did this happen? How the fuck did this happen? Martin had them. They saw the police turn into the road that led to that barn. How the fuck did this happen?
A small moan. Then another. Cora’s head turned and her eyelids fluttered.
“Cora!” Sam cried. “She’s moving!”
“Can you hear me?” Slider asked, dangerous hope flaring through him. “Oh, God, Cora. Tell me you hear me.”
Her lips barely moved. “Sli . . .”
“Yeah, I’m here,” he said, leaning close, his heart torn between breaking and flying. “I’m right here.”
Her eyelids lifted heavily, her gaze not tracking. Still, seeing that beautiful green again nearly slayed him. “S-Sam. O-kay?”
Aw, God, his heart. His heart was never going to survive this. She’d been hit four times, and her first thought was for Slider’s son. “Yeah, sweetheart, he’s right here. He’s gonna be fine.”
Sam came closer. “I’m here, too, Cora. It’s okay,” he said through silent tears. “Everything’s okay. I love you, Cora.” Alexa gently squeezed Sam’s good shoulder and he sagged into her embrace. “She has to be okay.”
“She will,” Alexa managed. “She’s one of the strongest people I know.”
And it was true, except . . . the blood, and the stillness, and the paleness. But at least she was awake. “Keep talking to me, Cora. Keep talking.”
But she didn’t say any more.
“Ambulance is here,” someone yelled, making Slider realize for the first time that colored lights from outside flashed on the ruined interior walls of Dare’s living room and kitchen. “Make way.”
The paramedics came in with their big kits. Multiple teams. And cops, too. The house was crawling with people. When had all of them even gotten there?
A man and a woman knelt down next to Slider. The woman examined Sam’s arm, and Slider said, “That’s my son, Sam. He’s almost eleven. Take good care of him.”
“I will,” the woman said with a small smile.
“Sir,” the man said. “Let me take over now. I’ll take good care of her, too, I promise.”
“She’s everything,” Slider said.
“I know, sir. Let me assess her so I can help.”
Slider sat back and removed his hands from her, and it felt so fucking wrong not to be touching her, not to feel her heat, not to feel her pulse against his skin. What if he never got to feel any of that again? He scrambled to her other side, out of the way but still close, so he could tell her over and over. “I love you, Cora. I love you. Fight this. Fight for us. I love you.”
They took Cora straight into surgery. Haven, too. Yet Slider felt like he must be the one whose heart was open on the table. The only thing that kept him sane at all was being with Sam in his little room in the ER.