Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
I don’t know how long I’d been out when I woke up in the backseat of Smokey’s truck. Hayes was sitting next to me and was holding a rag to my head. When he noticed that I was awake, he leaned down and whispered, “You’re okay. We’ve got you.”
“Where are we going?”
“The clubhouse,” Smokey answered. “Gonna have Doc take a look at you and make sure you’re okay.”
“Why?” I asked with confusion. “I’m okay.”
“Doc will be the judge of that.”
I was lost in a deep fog and unable to think, much less form a cognitive thought. I was struggling to remember how I’d ended up with them when it hit me all at once, and I gasped, “Oh, God! James! He was here.”
“Don’t gotta worry about him,” Hayes assured me. “He’s never going to hurt you again.”
“How can you say that?” I sat up, and my stomach immediately turned, making me feel terribly nauseous. “Stop the truck! I’m going to be sick.”
Smokey quickly pulled over on the shoulder, then waited as Hayes helped me out. I crouched over and prepared for another wave of nausea to hit, but the second the cold, fresh air hit my lungs, the sick feeling faded.
I took several deep, cleansing breaths, then slowly stood upright. I was about to tell Hayes that I was okay when my attention was drawn to the back end of the truck. There was a loud thump, followed by a muffled groan. Curious, I leaned forward to get a better look, but Hayes held his hand up and said, “I think it’s best that you get back in the truck.”
“Why? What is that?”
“Get back inside, Jules.”
Maybe it was the tone of his voice or the look on his face, but a chill ran down my spine, and I knew it was James in the back of that truck. I didn’t say a word. I simply got back in the truck and remained silent as Smokey continued driving toward the clubhouse. When we got there, Smokey got out, and he and Hayes helped me out of the truck, then led me up to the front door.
As soon as we made it inside, Smokey turned to Hayes and said, “Take her down to the infirmary. Doc’s waiting for her.”
Hayes gave his father a quick nod, then helped me down the hall and into a room I’d never seen before. With all the medical tools and devices, it reminded me of a doctor’s office, but not like any I’d ever been to. Hayes was helping me over to one of the gurneys when Doc came rushing over.
“Heard you had quite a night.”
“I did.”
“How you holding up?”
We’d met at the club’s Thanksgiving dinner. I could tell right away that Doc was a great guy, so I wasn’t surprised that he seemed genuinely concerned about me. “I’ve been better.”
“Looks like you got a pretty nasty hit to the head. Have you experienced any dizziness or nausea?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“It’s probably a mild concussion. You’ll need to take it easy for a couple of days.” He continued to look me over, then, after several minutes, he said, “You’re gonna have a couple of nasty bruises, but nothing that won’t heal.”
“Okay.”
“I’m giving you some pain medication. You can take it every four to six hours. Just let me know if you need something stronger.” He handed me a couple of ice packs, then turned to Hayes as he said, “Take her down to Q’s room. She can rest there until... She can rest there.”
“Speaking of Q, do you happen to know where he is?”
“He’s, um... He’s tied up at the moment. He’ll be back when he can.”
I could tell by looking at him that he wasn’t being completely forthright with me, but I was in no state of mind to push. So, I thanked him for his help and followed Hayes down to Quinton’s room. He helped me to bed, then grabbed a couple of bottles of water and put them on the bedside table.
Seconds later, I was lying in bed alone, and it wasn’t long before the tears started to fall. Once they started, they didn’t stop. I cried for hours and was about to fall asleep when Quinton crawled into bed next to me.
I’d asked him where he’d been and why he hadn’t answered my calls, but like Doc, he gave me some excuse about doing something with the club. It was hard not to be a little hurt that he’d ditched me for his brothers. It was that hurt feeling that had me playing possum when I felt him stirring in the bed next to me.
He stretched and groaned, then groaned some more as he sat up on the side of the bed. There were plenty of mornings when he made odd sounds, but this morning was different. He sounded like he was in pain, so I rolled to my side and asked, “Is something wrong?”