Page 48 of Vapor's Blaze

Jamus answers angrily. “Yeah, it’s true, but that’s not the whole story. They got into a wrangle when they tried to take King’s cut. King knifed Decker’s old man, and then went straight for Decker.”

I speak up, “That’s when Decker drew down on him.”

Jamus nods, his hands balled into fists. “There were just too many of them. Decker betrayed our trust and the next thing we knew our clubhouse was flooded with Diggers.”

“While they were tending to their club president’s knife wound, the three of us got King out of there. I already got a text from a burner number telling me that if their club president dies, none of us is getting out of this alive.” Jamus holds his phone up.

“Fucking hell,” I say as I take Jamus’ phone and scroll through the messages. “This is fucked up. Whether King pulls through or not, Decker is a dead man.”

“Since when does the Savage Legion care about what’s going on with the Hellfire Hounds?”

I glare at Jamus, “He had his hands on Trix and like you said, she’s not safe while he’s still butthurt by the marriage alliance falling apart. He’s got to go. It’s the only way to ensure her safety.”

Trix speaks again, “He was telling me to leave town, he was saying we all should. I don’t know. Maybe it’s not Decker we have to watch out for, but his brother?”

Throughout all this, Hark is staying silent. I feel for the poor kid. All he’s ever known is the Hounds, and now his family and club are being torn apart. It was his quick thinking that got Trix away from the clutches of her grandfather, so underneath the scared exterior he’s tough.

It’s Tracker who responds, “Maybe this isn’t the right time or place to discuss retribution.”

Before anyone could respond a man in scrubs enters the room.

“Are you Mr. Laurence’s family?”

Trix answers. “How’s my grandfather?”

The little name tag on his chest says Dr. Strak, he glances around before speaking. “We’re looking for his next of kin.”

“That’s us,” Trix tells the man, “He only has three grandkids, me and my two brothers. Can you tell us how he’s doing, Dr. Strak? Is he going to be okay?”

“Your grandfather’s in a critical condition at the moment. He took a bullet to the chest and another to abdomen. The gunshot wound to the chest caused a pneumothorax. His blood pressure is dangerously low. We stopped the bleeding of the abdominal wound but it’s pretty clear it’s going to take more than one surgery to repair the damage.”

I can see Trix looks like she’s about to collapse, so I put my arm around her waist and lead her back to the chair.

“Is he awake? Can we talk to him?” Tracker asks.

The doctor shakes his head. “He’s lost a lot of blood. He’s in the process of getting a transfusion. We’re going to keep him sedated for a few days. We need to make decisions regarding his care and our nurse practitioner will talk to you about the details.”

“Of course,” Trix responds, her voice sounds stronger, as if she’s processed the initial shock. “Whatever you need, we’ll gladly do.”

I’m kind of hovering on the periphery as Trix and her brothers sit down with the nurse and talk about advance directives, power of attorney, and whether or not they want a do not resuscitate order.

“Of course we would like you to make every effort to save his life. Whatever it takes, spare no expense.” Tracker says, sounding angry that they would even ask that question.

The nurse writes some notes on her clipboard and then begins asking if he has prior medical problems like a history of high blood pressure or diabetes. Trix reassures her that up until now, he’s been as healthy as a horse. Next are questions about prior surgeries and allergies. I tune out at this point as I’m not really interested in the former president of the Hellfire Hound’s medical history. I check my cell phone to see if there’s been any blowback after what happened at the Hounds clubhouse, and whether the Diggers are coming after us, but thankfully there’s nothing about that. However, there have been some surprising developments, my eyes widen as I read through what my club president has sent me.

After the nurse has finished with her questions, Trix asks again, “Can we see him?”

“He’s being transferred to ICU, he’s allowed two visitors at a time. Be advised that trying to wake the patient, touching his life support equipment, arguing amongst yourselves, or disturbing staff will result in members of the family being barred from visitation.”

Trix frowns at the woman, clearly wondering what made her think they would do things like that. I know, it’s the leather cut I’m wearing. Jamus, Tracker, and Hark had theirs burned, but it’s clear as day to anyone that we are all bikers.

And to them that spells trouble. The nurse must have picked up on our mood because she quickly adds, “These rules aren’t particular to your family. I tell everyone the same thing—you wouldn’t believe how some visitors act. She pulls a sheet from her clipboard and hands it to Trix. Then has her and her brothers sign off on several things related to their discussion.

“I should also advise you that since the patient suffered a gunshot wound, it’s mandatory we notify local law enforcement. They will probably want to ask you some questions and will certainly want to speak with your grandfather once he’s awake.”

Trix shoots Tracker a meaningful look. He speaks up, “Of course we’ll cooperate with law enforcement. We’re just as eager as they are to see justice done on my grandfather’s behalf.”

The nurse’s expression was inscrutable as she took her leave from us.

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