Hope (The Virtues #1) (12 page)

Until the bikers got back, there was nothing I could do. I decided against calling Bear because we had all night, and I needed to stay with Trask. He was stable, but a fever was starting to brew beneath his skin.

I looked around. Vegas was behind the bar, leaning back against the till on his phone.

“Vegas, I need some advice.” He looked up at me and started heading over.

“Shoot.”

I recapped him on the phone call, and I could see the anger rising in him. His fists balled, and I saw veins in his neck bulging. He seemed so even tempered, but apparently he just hid it well.

“We’re going to hit them with everything we have. I know we will. Bear won’t take this.
I
won’t take this. Don’t worry, Hope. We’re going to get Nick back, and that dealer is going to be six feet under before noon. I can promise you that.” He punctuated his anger with a solid kick to a chair. It slid across the empty bar and slammed against the wall.

I flinched, but immediately turned to Trask when I heard him grumbling. I forgot all about Vegas and turned my attention to my man.

His eyes were barely open, and he was trying to sit up on the makeshift table.

“Hey, hey. Stay down. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” He looked up at me as I spoke, my voice only barely reaching him through his haze. He turned his head toward his shoulder as if he was just realizing what had happened.

“I dug the bullet out. As far as I can see, there’ll be no permanent damage. How are you feeling?”
 

Trask took my hand in his good one. “I’ve certainly felt better. Where is everyone?”

“Out for supplies. They should be back soon, though.” I felt his forehead again. “You’re running a fever, but they’re getting you antibiotics. I’m going to change the bandage, since you’re up. ‘Kay?”

Trask nodded. He took in the rest of the room while I removed the rags. Vegas stood beside him in case I needed any help.

The young prospect talked to Trask, giving me a perfect distraction. “You rode that Harley all the way here, man. Passed out right at the front door. Very badass.”

“The only way I live. Ask Hope why we took the bike.”

He gave me a smile, but I made it clear I wasn’t amused. “There was a perfectly good car, but Trask shot out one of the tires. What an incredible idiot you are, Trask Rivers. You could have killed us.”

He brushed some hair from my face. “But I didn’t. Forgive me?”

I stopped what I was doing to look him dead in the eyes. “Forgive you for what? Being a stubborn asshole who places adrenaline rushes over his own life?”

He looked at me for a minute. “I guess so, yeah. It was stupid, I know. Let’s just say it’s been a long time since I’ve had someone to be gentle with. Hope, I’m sorry. I never meant for anything bad to happen.”

My heart was aching. He was making me sorry that I got angry with him. I had forgotten Trask’s remarkable ability to do that.

“I hate to forgive you. I really do.”

He smiled and squeezed my hand. “Makes sense. You could put that bullet back in me, if it would make you feel better.”

“It might, actually.” I couldn’t resist. I changed his bandage and taped the new one down. “Vegas, can you get him some water?”

The prospect nodded and jogged toward the bar. “That kid,” I said, motioning over my shoulder, “can handle some blood, and he’s dedicated as hell. He’s been here with you as long as I have.” I decided to omit the news that Beezer had taken my brother. I wanted him to get some more sleep before his anger got the better of him.

Vegas brought the water, and I made Trask drink the whole thing down. He was low on fluids, and the ice water would help cool him until the antibiotics arrived. It wasn’t long before Trask was out cold again.

I tried to sleep, but it wouldn’t come. The drug dealer had my brother, and the club was off running “errands.” Finally, around two in the morning, I nodded off.

I woke up to the roar of motorcycle engines outside the bar. I checked Trask out of instinct. The fever was still there, but his shoulder looked to be clotting over well.

I stood up when they came in through the door. Bear pulled something out of a bag and tossed it up to me.

It was a prescription pill bottle with about seven Norfloxacin in it. The name was familiar, but I couldn’t remember what it was normally treated.

“Bear, what was this prescribed for?”

He leaned in closer to me, “An infection.
 
That’s all.
 
Just some infection.”

The big man didn’t seem to happy about my question, so I just ignored it and opened the bottle.

I shook Trask’s chest to rouse him, and he woke with understandable reluctance. “Time for your meds. I’m going to put real bandages on your shoulder, too.”

Trask nodded like before and swallowed two pills and a glass of water. I hoped the dose would be enough to stave off the infection. Another biker brought up a bag with gauze and medical tape.

I bandaged Trask’s shoulder with the real thing, a far cry from the rags used to wipe down the bar. I threw the pile of them soaked with blood into the trash along with all the garbage I’d made taking out the bullet.

“Sleep now. I need you back in fighting form soon.” I laid a soft kiss on his forehead.

He nodded and laid back down. I watched him for a few minutes until I was sure he was out. Then I turned my attention to the president of the MC.

“Bear, we need to talk. I got a call.”

He and I sat down at the table once again. I caught him up on the phone call, the kidnapping, and the ransom.

He smiled, and I was confused. He spoke low so no one else could hear. “Then everything is going to plan.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

He shushed me, laying his hands on the table.

“Hey, hey. This is what we expected. This dealer plays dirty. He’s new in the game, but he’s got some tech. We’re guessing that he bugged your brother’s cage, so it doesn’t matter where he split, they’d find him easy.”

I was fighting to keep my temper down. “I thought this guy was small time.”

Bear nodded. “He’s small time in drugs. Look, the reason we even know about this cat is because one of our Sons used to work with him when he was legitimate. Beezer used to be a bounty hunter, so he’s good with tracking and finding people who don’t want to be found. According to our guy, he took down some dealer who’d skipped out on bail, and Beezer found him with like, ten kilos of coke in his car.

“Whatever happened, Beezer had a change of heart and a change of career. They found the dealer dead on the side of the road, and the drug ring got a new leader. Our guy didn’t stick around while the organization did some... restructuring.”

I remembered the trashed trailer and Mrs. Halburn saying men had been by. I had no doubt that Nick’s car had been bugged long before he disappeared. My blood was at full boil.

My words were steady and measured, like a hostage negotiator during a long standoff. “Please tell me we are going to fuck them up. Please tell me we are going to get revenge for Trask and get my brother back.”

Bear must have seen the anger in my eyes. He actually leaned away from me. “Damn Hope, what about that Hypocritic Oath?”

I ignored the mispronunciation and stared at him with diamond hard eyes. “I’m not a doctor yet.”

He looked me over, searching for some sign of weakness. The older man must not have found any. “Hate to admit it, darlin’, but you’re not part of
we.
We’re going after him, but not you. You’re staying here with him,” He pointed over my shoulder to Trask.

“I need to go. I need to do my part and get my brother back.”

Bear smiled. “I admire your spark, but my guess is you’re no good in a fight. The last thing we need is to drag a war nurse around with us.”

He saw that I was about to speak again, and he put a hand up to stop me. “This ain’t no UN summit, Hope. You stay. I’m gonna leave three here with you and Trask. And before you say anything, remember that I’m doing this for him.” He looked past me to Trask again. “But I’m going to bring your brother back. So, lucky you; you found a way to turn us into a charity, after all.”

He was right. I had no place to argue. “Thank you.”

The president of the biker club nodded. “You need anything else before we ride?”

“I don’t think so. I’m gonna keep changing his dressing. He needs sleep. In the morning, I‘ll be able to tell you if he needs real care.” Trask had been doing well throughout the night so far, and I really believed he’d pull through, despite my arcane surgical methods.

I jumped when Bear roared, “Sons, let’s get the plan straight.”

Every biker in the club pulled a chair up to the president. He waited patiently as they all sat in a large circle around him. I moved back to Trask, listening, but not part of the actual conversation.

Bear looked around at all the faces. “Vegas, why don’t you catch us up on Beezer.”

My heart jumped as I stared at the prospect. He had been the one with the bounty hunter when he switched careers? I was shocked that he hadn’t mentioned it the entire time we’d talked.

He stood up, looking a little nervous to be an expert and prospect at the same time. “All right, well, I’ll give you a quick rundown on what I know. His real name is Ronald Bezarius. He’s in his late forties, and he’s been bounty hunting for about fifteen. Ex-cop, but apparently the money was too good pulling in skippers. About three months ago, I guess he found that dealing is better money than bounty hunting.

“I was a sort of apprentice under him. I studied criminal justice in school and couldn't get a job once I graduated, so I figured I’d try to get some experience before the next LEA application round. The guy’s smart. That’s the main thing I want to get across. The dude knows tracking, and he knows how to hire good people around him.

“All his crew are ex-military or ex-cops. I think he was reluctant to take me on, but I was so gung-ho about being a cop he must have had a soft spot for me. Anyways, four months ago, we get a bounty for a suspected dealer wanted on distribution charges. Beezer tracked him down to the Cali-Nevada border, and when we stopped the dude, there were kilos and kilos of coke in the trunk.

“I don't know if he’d been planning something like this for a while, but he basically told us to get on board or wind up like the guy with two bullets in his skull. Obviously, no one said a fuckin’ word. He must have had this planned out, because it was like he fell right into the routine. He had the contacts above and below. He knew who to pay and who was supposed to pay him. I didn’t stick around long after that. Drugs aren’t my scene.”

Vegas turned to Bear and shrugged. “That’s that, I guess.”

Bear nodded. I could see that the president respected the prospect. Vegas was proving himself to be a real asset to the Rising Sons Motorcycle Club.

Bear stood and looked around at his brothers. Trask squeezed my hand with the lightest of touches, and I turned to check on him. He was still breathing slow and deep, sleeping sound.

“They shot Trask. That’s the bottom line. He was wearing his cut, and they should have known better. This Beezer doesn't know better. He put a bullet into a Rising Son. There’s no warning or second chance.” When I turned back, he held Trask’s leather cut in his hand.

“This is your warning. This is all you need to know.” His voice rose to the rafters. “This fucker fucked with the wrong group of motherfuckers!”

The bikers yelled in unison and fury. Bear had them all riled up and ready for a fight. I couldn’t take my eyes off of the group. They had turned to animals.

“We scouted the place during the last ride. Security is minimal, but like Vegas said, these guys are trained. I can’t promise you safety, but if I could, we’d all be playing tennis at a country club. We’re coming back with one hostage, a Nick Cantwell.” Bear pointed up to the stage. “That one’s brother. I want him safe. Everyone else? I want them in the ground.”

After a pause, Bear asked, “Questions?” He waited, but no one said a word. “Good. We’re riding to the stockpile, then to the dealer’s place. Vegas, Thunder, and Rhodes, you’re staying with Trask and the doc. Everyone else? Let’s ride.”

***

Ten minutes later, Los Bandoleros was quiet again. Trask was still asleep, I was dozing in and out again, and the other three bikers were playing cards at a table near the front entrance.

Things were quiet around the bar, but the tension was thick. Trask’s fever was still high, and I couldn’t do anything but wait to see if the antibiotics would do the trick. Every time I woke up through the night, it was an instant, and panic set in. I’d spring up to check on Trask before my heart would relax.

He woke up a few times, but not for long. The night dragged on. Vegas would come up and check up on Trask. He was more concerned than the other two bikers that remained behind. Rhodes and Thunder didn’t come up to talk to me. They barely even looked over.

I checked on my man once more around four in the morning before tucking back in. I managed to get a few hours of sleep, but even that was interrupted when I woke up with a gun to my head.