Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Eventually, the bike slows to a stop. “Help! Somebody get Nova! Now!”
I have a sensation of gliding off the back seat, and soon enough, strong arms wrap around me. I feel as if I’m floating, and suddenly I’m inside the clubhouse.
Sounds of worry fill the background noise, but up front and center is Joaquin and his worry, his anger as he explains about the ambush.
“She shot back like a pro, but there were too many of them. Is she gonna be all right?”
“I don’t know,” Nova says. “The bullet is in her back, and there’s no exit wound.”
Those are the last words I hear as the world fades to black, wondering if I’ll ever get a chance to see Joaquin’s beautiful face again.
Chapter Eighteen
Joaquin
“Is she gonna be all right?” My eyes beg Nova to tell me what I want to hear, to say the words I need to hear, so I don’t lose my shit.
“Fucking answer me!” I howl.
“Dude. Relax,” he says in his infuriating calm doctor voice. “I don’t know what’s wrong right now. Give me some space,” he says, all in control and managing his shit. I’m aware that all eyes in the room are on us. The party atmosphere disappears the minute we enter the room, and everyone closes in, worried gazes on Willow’s lifeless form.
Gia and Maven are at my side, tears streaming down their faces as they fall over Willow.
“What happened?” Maven's voice is desperate, her tear-filled eyes searching for answers. “She’s going to live, right?”
“Right,” Gia adds in a threatening tone.
Instead of answering, Nova schools his expression and steps in close. “Everybody back the fuck up,” he says and examines the wound, her pulse, and eyes before he gently says her name.
“Willow, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand.”
It’s barely visible, but she squeezes his hand, and my whole body relaxes in relief. “Thank fuck.”
“She needs to get to the hospital, Joaquin.”
“No. Fuck that. Fix her,” I bark.
His eyes fill with sympathy, and I know this is what’s going to happen.
“She needs surgery, Joaquin. There’s no exit wound, which means that bullet could be in there slicing up her insides, killing her even quicker than the blood loss. If I work on her myself without help, there’s no guarantee she will survive. You hear me, brother?”
I nod and take a step back, giving my reluctant consent. “Yeah, fine. Take her. I’ll drive.”
“No,” Ace says and steps in front of me with his hands on my shoulders. “You sit in back with your woman. Nova and I’ll drive. You’re not in the headspace to drive right now.”
I hesitate but agree as we get Willow into the van. Her skin is ghostly pale and her eyes flutter half-closed. I’m a mix of worry, sadness and guilt as I stroke her hair and hold her hand as we drive to the hospital.
I wish that there is something more I can do for her, but for now, all I can do is pray. She looks so lifeless, my fucking chest aches. It hurts to think Willow might die, and it’s all my fault.
“I had one fucking job,” I growl. Protect her, period. I failed, and now she’s on the brink of death.
“They’ll take good care of her,” Nova promises. “I won’t let her die, Joaquin.”
“Thanks. Whatever it takes to make sure she’s okay.” My hand tightens around Willow’s, and I know at that moment she isn’t just some quick fuck. She’s more than that, so much more than a good time. She’s something special to me, and I need her to live, to survive, so I can make her mine.
We race into the Emergency Room, and Nova shouts for help. Two orderlies come running with a gurney, and they wheel Willow away to save her life. I want to run after her, to chase behind Nova and stand there while they dig the bullet out of her and bring her back to me, but I know I can’t.
Instead, I clench my jaws at the thought of the assholes who did this to her. When I find them, I’m going to kill them all.
“Get it together, brother.” Ace’s cool and steel voice pulls me from my murderous thoughts. He maneuvers the van to the ass-end of the parking lot, where the other brothers mill around, waiting for us.
“Tell us everything you remember,” Ace says.
I nod and scan the parking lot for those motherfuckers. “We were coming back from Club Dynasty. Willow’s been worried about her friend Sandee, but the trip was a bust. On the way back, these bikers roll up on us, no MC gear.”
I shake my head as the image of them stopping, and turning tail solidifies in my mind. “They weren’t MC. This wasn’t Nogales or any leftover Kings, I’m sure of it. It’s someone else.”