Page 94 of Tempting Fate

It’s fucking hard.

Next to impossible.

Having Slash, the calm, rational, and cautious member of our trio, admit that I’m probably right without offering half a dozen viable reasons why I might not be, means Brutus is as good as dead. Now, I’ve got to find enough proof to show the rest of the Shamrocks that our president needs to be put down.

For the club’s good.

For Lily’s safety.

17

LILY

My skin crawls as my trauma stomps around in my head, demanding attention, braying for relief. The urge to cut rides me hard. An overwhelming desire to run stalks me. This is the first time I’ve set foot in this hospital since I was officially discharged after Alex’s first attack, and it feels as if I’ve been sucked back in time.

The stringent smell, antiseptic mixed with artificial fragrances and worry, assaulted me the second the automatic doors downstairs had opened. A one-two punch straight to the soul, the dark recesses of my mind immediately spewed forth forbidden memories and mental anguish.

Everywhere I turn, I encounter another reminder.

The familiar walls close in on me.

A failure of the soft green specifically chosen to offer comfort.

Every time an announcement blares over the speakers my heart skips a beat.

My nerve endings twang with warning.

Breathing is close to impossible.

It doesn’t help that the tension in the waiting room can be cut with a knife, not only because we’re waiting with bated breath to find out if Fret’s injuries are life-ending or not, but also because of the animosity flowing between my father and basically everyone present.

It’s the strangest thing. While we’re all braced for the worst, my normally melodramatic father seems almost uncaring. About me. About Fret. About the rest of my brothers. About the Shamrocks’ anger at his double-cross with the Maddisons. About the ambush by the Bishops. And, especially, about the cold war currently going down between him and Charlie.

With Crystal on one side, my stepmother is perched next to the double doors the doctors will come through when they’re able to give us an update. Upon our arrival, the two women greeted everyone but Dad. Their quiet disapproval of him doesn’t make sense, yet I can’t bring myself to care.

As worries go, my father is at the bottom of my list.

Sensing the despair and helplessness clinging to Charlie like a haze of smog, I try to drag a seat next to her. After discovering that the chairs are bolted down, I plant my arse on the floor by her feet. Stoic as ever, Zeke drops down next to me.

His back resting against the wall, his legs out straight, he pulls me onto his lap.

I don’t put up a fight.

I need him.

Mixed messages, be damned.

Of course, Slash sits down beside us.

Toker and Sander position themselves next to him.

Fingers of my left hand linked with Slash’s, the other hand held tight by Charlie, I sit with my head leaning on Zeke’s shoulder.

Keeping a watchful eye on my three brothers, occasionally directing my attention to the doctor’s entrance, I settle in for what I hope will be a short wait.

One that will end with the news that Fret will survive his injuries.

“How long do ya think it’ll take?” Although my youngest brother, Nate, poses his question to everyone in the waiting room, his gaze is focused on Zeke. “They should have somethin’ to tell us by now.”

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