Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 97275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
My breath started to come in harsh pants, but I ignored it, thankful to have Alpha trotting along beside me. Their eyes flickered in his direction, but they quickly averted back to me and my progress down the long hallway. Once I was in the main hospital room, even more bedlam welcomed me.
The trauma room was in a full uproar, working frantically on the motorcycle man. He filled the gurney from top to bottom. A nurse was standing to the side, holding a bundled up baby, and watching the commotion. CPR was being performed on the man, and doctors were shouting orders at the frantic nurses.
The chorus of ‘Another One Bites the Dust’ was being sung by the doctor performing the chest compressions. Duh, duh, duh, du, du, du, du, du, du. They hummed to the rhythm, and then started to sing.
Another one bites the dust.
Another one bites the dust.
And another one gone, and another one gone.
Another one bites the dust.
Hey, I’m gonna get you too.
Another one bites the dust.
Doctors had weird senses of humor. Paramedics were even worse. We were taught to perform chest compressions while maintaining a certain rhythm. So, some doctor decided to implement their own use of black humor, and came up with this song to pace your rhythm with. Another song that they use, that would be better in this situation, was Stayin’ Alive. Yet, the doctors and paramedics tended to sway towards this one.
Drawing my cart up next to the nurse, we exchanged information. She gave me the baby’s APGAR scores, and stats. I did my own check over the baby, diapered him, swaddled him, and then waited for security to escort me. I was going to play it safe, and have someone accompany me. I didn’t want this to get out of hand, and I knew damn well it would if I wasn’t cautious.
Just as I got to the open doors with the guard, I peeked out and my heart dropped when I saw the wall of black leather. There was no way I was going to be able to do this. I needed some familiar backup. Slipping my phone from my pocket, I made a quick call and waited.
Not even five minutes went by when I heard the roar of motorcycles again. Yes, there was about a gazillion in the parking lot already. You ask how I know, but I can’t tell you. I just do. After six months of listening to those specific motorcycles coming and going, I knew them by heart.
I watched as the wall of black leather parted, and revealed Sam, Elliott, James, Gabe, and Jack, as well as Luke and some men of SWAT that were dressed in riot gear. They backed the men away from the door I needed to exit through, and I very cautiously swiped my key card and allowed the door to swing open.
The guys met me with concerned smiles, and then made a human wall so the baby, Alpha, and I could make our way to the bank of elevators that were located around the corner. All the bikers watched avidly, but didn’t make any threatening moves.
Whether it was because of the guys, or just because they never had the intention to start anything, I don’t know. I, however, wasn’t going to take any chances. Not with this little baby I was pushing, and not with the one that I was currently nourishing with my body.
We’d made it to the elevator when an older man stepped forward. He was wearing the same leather as the others, yet his said president on a little sticker on his right breast pocket. I wondered if it was a real motorcycle club, and if he really was the president.
The man’s hair was silver and beautiful. He had the type of hair that you see on the box of men’s ‘Touch of Gray’ hair dye, but I was one hundred and fifteen percent positive that the man had never seen a box of hair dye in his life. He was very fit for an older man, and he reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t quite place it. This man, whoever he was, was dangerous. The look in his eyes told a story. It was one of harshness, and necessity.
Sam’s body went tight as a bowstring, and then he cursed violently under his breath when he finally turned around from watching behind us. “What do you want?” He barked.
I jumped slightly at the harshness of his voice.
I’d never heard him speak like that before, and the harshness of his tone made me look at him differently. Sure, he was a very nice man; he was big and strong, and I knew he was dangerous. Although, it was one thing to know that he’s dangerous, and another to know.
“That’s your nephew.” He dropped the bomb and walked away, disappearing into the crowd of bikers.
The elevators dinged, and we all shuffled forward holding our breath. I was afraid if I said anything, I would make this situation worse. So I kept my mouth zipped, and checked the baby over. Placing my neonatal stethoscope to his tiny chest and listening to his strong heartbeat. Then his lungs. They sounded absolutely perfect. I checked his APGAR scores again as well, just to be sure.
“I’m going to fucking kill him. How dare he?” Sam fumed.
The elevator trip stayed silent until we reached the floor that the nursery was on. We all scrambled off, ready to get away from the stifling confines of the elevator. I took a deep breath, and took the baby to the nursery to get him cleaned, weighed, and checked over by the on call pediatrician.
My thoughts stayed with Sam though, and the shock he’d just received. From what I understood, his father was an abusive man. His mother and him tried to run away, and start somewhere new many times. Unfortunately, each time they were settled, his father would send someone to bring them back. Finally, the very last time, they were able to get away and not be found again.