Page 8 of The Prez

I raise an eyebrow. I didn’t know Pete was interested in tattooing. “I’ll talk it over with the lead tattoo artist to see if he’ll accept an apprentice. I don’t have a problem with it as long as you don’t neglect your duties as mechanic and keep your fucking PT appointments.” I know sometimes Pete thinks he’s tough, not going to his physical therapy appointments and coming to the clubhouse limping and his knuckles bruised like he caught himself on the floor from falling. The accident that injured his leg was well over a year ago, but I suppose he’s still feeling the effects of that and the surgery.

He nods and thanks me and we move on to other orders of business. We don’t have to vote on anything further, mostly go over finances and who owes dues. This is a mid-month meeting, so there isn’t much that needs to be discussed.

The meeting is winding down when the buzzer by the door goes off. Since we don’t have prospects to keep watch at the gate, we have motion sensors set up to be alerted anytime someone approaches. Everyone that needs to be at the clubhouse is here, so our visitors now are unwelcome.

“Incoming,” Zeke says unnecessarily, charging to the door. I follow at a more sedate pace. My brothers won’t let anyone get past them.

When I round the corner, I see two policemen exiting a cruiser—Chance, our man on the inside that keeps us abreast on bullshit going on inside the police department; and the new chief of police.

The last chief of police had it out for me and ended up running the gauntlet before I killed him for trying to take my club down. This new one ain’t half bad, as far as cops go. He keeps out of my way and I make sure I leave bodies outside the city limits so he doesn’t have to clean up behind us.

“What can I do for you, Chief?” Zeke asks, crossing his arms over his chest, standing with his feet shoulder width apart.

He looks around Zeke and meets my eyes. Something in their depths give me pause, especially when he removes his hat and places it over his heart.

I push past Zeke and stand in front of the man. “What is it?”

“We got a red cross message ten minutes ago. Are you the brother of Elena Suarez?”

It’s like a gut punch hearing her name. I haven’t heard from Elena in over twenty years, not after hearing her say she wanted nothing to do with me when I was nineteen and came to retrieve her.

It had taken a while to find my way after I immigrated to the United States and even longer to locate Elena. When I did, she shouted at me, saying she knew I had something to do with our mother’s death. She was convinced that I contacted my father and told him where we were. I’m not sure where she got that idea from, but she wouldn’t hear reason. She refused to see me again. Eventually, I gave up. I hardened my heart against her and tried to shove her out of my mind so the tatters that made up my soul wouldn’t fray any more.

Clearing my mind of the past, I meet the Chief’s eyes and nod. “Yeah. Why?”

“She’s at Charlotte-Atrium General in Ashville, North Carolina. She was in a horrible car accident. Her husband passed away from his injuries and she’s in rough shape. You need to hurry.”

Another gut punch, thinking about Elena being hurt. Of all the reasons for them to be here, I didn’t think the police were bringing me this news. Not Elena. Not my hermanita.

I take off running to my bike so I can get on the roadnow. I don’t have time to change from my clothes for a long ride or grab my helmet. I need to go.

Jace shouts for me to hold on just as I’m tossing my leg over my chopper, safety be damned. “No,” he says, grabbing my arm. I push him off roughly, about to flick up the kickstand. He stumbles, but keeps his footing, rushing back over to me and grabbing my handlebars. I glare at him, lip peeled back to tell him to back the fuck down, but he gives the glare right back. “No, Prez. Let me drive you. You’re not in the right headspace! You’ll fucking kill yourself! You don’t have on your leathers or your fucking boots! We just lost Christian!”

That gets through to me. I can’t leave my brothers. Not after our terrible loss. I need to get to my sister, but it won’t do if I’m splattered on the side of the road, no leathers, no boots, no fucking helmet. With the way I’m feeling, I know I’ll make reckless decisions, trying to get to her. I’m not usually like this, so impulsive, but my blood is thrumming through my veins with the need todosomething.

With a sound of frustration, I pull out my keys and toss them to Jace as we hurry to my SUV. His mom van won’t get us to North Carolina in less than five hours with the traffic we’re bound to hit. If Jace drives over eighty the whole way in my SUV, even hitting rush hour, we can make it there in less than four hours. I just fucking hope she holds on for me.

We climb inside and Jace starts the car and races down the hill. He hits the highway in less than twenty minutes and fucking guns it.

My mind is scrambled. I can’t think of anything butget there, get there, get there!

“I’m driving as fast as I can,” Jace says as if from far away. “We’ll be there in less than an hour.”

Less than an hour? I come back to myself and bring my surroundings into focus. New scenery tells me we’re nolonger in Mellbind or even Chattanooga. We must have been on the road for hours. I fucking zoned out and was pulled back into the past, in Cuba where Elena and I used to laugh, talk, play, be siblings. Now, she’s hurt and we haven’t bridged that gap in over twenty years.

Before I know it, the GPS is telling us we’ve arrived at our destination. Jace pulls up right at the emergency room entrance and I jump out, racing to the reception desk.

The nurse behind it gives me an odd look, raising an eyebrow at me. “Can I help you, sir?”

“I need to see Elena Suarez,” I rush to say, drumming on the desk with nervous fingers. When she looks at me with a bored expression, I bang my fist on the surface. She jumps, putting her hand over her heart. “Fucking now! Find her! Elena Suarez.”

She turns shakily to the computer and types quickly. “Second floor, room 286. Take the exit here, turn left and you’ll see the elevator bank in front of you.”

I take off, pushing through the door to the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. When I get to the second floor, I throw the door open hard enough for it to bang against the wall. I ignore the sound, even as a few people walking the hall look at me. I glance left and right for the direction of room 286. When I get to corresponding room, I step inside and find it empty. The bedding is rumpled and there are wires on the floors, machines pushed haphazardly around, but no Elena.

With a snarl, I exit the room and look for a nurse. When I locate one, I grab her by her shoulders to stop her. Unlike the nurse downstairs, this one looks like she’s having none of my shit. She raises an eyebrow and looks at my hands as if she can’t believe I put my hands on her. She’s a tough one, but I can’t admit that right now. “Sir, take your hands off me before I call security.”

“Fuck security,” I growl. “Where is Elena Suarez? The nurse said she was in room 286. It’s fucking empty. Where is she?” I yell loud enough to rock my own eardrums, but the nurse just looks at me evenly.

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