“What are his odds?” Painter asked. I considered the question.
“Depends,” I admitted. “I have no way of knowing how much damage he has or why he had a heart attack in the first place. If they get him to the hospital in good time—and they should be able to—they’ll run a catheter up his groin and check him out. If they find a blockage, they should be able to clear it and put in a stent. It’s a common procedure—he could be back home by tomorrow. That’s a best-case scenario, though. And he’s going to hurt like hell no matter what. I probably broke half his ribs.”
“Is it always like that?” he asked.
“Like what?”
“That . . . violent?”
I laughed. “CPR? Yeah. It’s not something you do for fun.”
“I’m tired,” Izzy announced. Me and her both.
“Most of the club will be heading down to the hospital,” Painter said. “But I think we need to go home. I’m wiped.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll make a few calls once we get there, see if they’ll give me any information. You think you could leave your bike out here, maybe drive us back?”
“Yeah,” he said, rolling over onto his elbow to look at me. “They’re all going to want to thank you—you’re a hero, Mel.”
I offered him a weak smile, then shook my head.
“Nope, I’m just a nurse. But remember tonight the next time we have a fight, okay? Because I know about a hundred different ways to kill you in your sleep, bring you back, and then do it all over again.”
His eyes widened, and Izzy laughed, clapping her hands.
Best. Kid. Ever.
THREE DAYS LATER
PAINTER
“What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded. I’d just pulled up to the Armory for an emergency church meeting, only to find Duck pulling up next to me. I’d been to visit him the day after his heart attack, so I knew he was doing all right, but it still startled me to see him here.
“We got church,” Duck said, frowning as he lumbered toward the building. “I always come in for the meetings. Although I had to drive a fuckin’ cage to get here.”
“Mel said she didn’t want you riding your bike for a couple weeks,” I reminded him. “Nothing strenuous, remember?”
“I know,” Duck growled. “And it’s fuckin’ killing me. But that new girl of mine has been takin’ good care of me. Seems damned unfair that when she gives me a sponge bath I can’t have my happy ending, though.”
“You don’t need sponge baths—you could just take a shower,” I pointed out reasonably. Duck smirked.
“She doesn’t know that. Now, let’s get inside—Pic said it was important. Better hear what he has to say for himself.”
? ? ?
“Got a call from Hallies Falls,” Picnic said, looking around the table. “Not good news. Gage got attacked earlier today. The details are fuzzy, but his old lady found him on her living room floor half dead—all cut up. He’s in emergency surgery right now.”
“Was it club-related?” Ruger asked.
“Cord thinks so,” Bolt said, sharing a look with Picnic. “They took his colors. Someone wants to start a war.”
The words hung heavy over the table. I didn’t know about everyone else, but I was running through a mental list of potential suspects and coming up short. Who was strong enough to challenge us right now?
“You think it’s the cartel?” Horse asked.
“Probably,” Pic said. “Things may be heating up again north of the border. I think we should head over and check things out for ourselves. Rance is on his way, too. He’s been hearing rumors on his end, so odds are good it’s connected with that shit going down in Vancouver. Thoughts?”
“I’m with you,” said Ruger. “We could ride over, pay Gage our respects, and do some poking around along the way. They’re still a small chapter—might help them sleep a little better tonight, knowing they’ve got backup.”