Page 19 of Ryder's War

The club physician was meeting them, but there was a surgeon on standby already. Several brothers were milling about when they arrived.

Strong hands grabbed him, and Ven gave him a little jerk. “You can’t go into the operating room, son. They got this.”

Hickory added gently, “Let the doctors do their job.”

Looking from one familiar face to the other, Ryder knew the older men were right. The overpowering urge to stick by his friend’s side and protect him, though, was difficult to contain. “What about the bitch?” he growled.

Hickory leaned over, whispering in his ear, “She’s under lock and key. We got her patched up. Don’t talk about that here.”

Nodding, Ryder refused to leave the doorway leading to the surgical suite. Adrenaline still coursed through his veins, stimulating his baser instincts. Since there was no one to fight, he was filled with an explosive kind of energy, making him feel as if he could run circles around the building right then. Since that would require him abandoning his post, he elected to continue pacing instead. Back and forth, he walked in front of the heavy double doors, wondering if Darkness was going to make it out of surgery.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been pacing, but after some time, Ryder felt a gentle hand on his arm. Even before he turned, he knew it was Tiffany—her touch had become his anchor in a world where violence could erupt at any moment. Tiffany’s soft voice and delicate scent swamped his senses, causing him to come to a stuttering stop.

“I’m sorry, baby. I came as soon as I heard. Are you okay?” Those wide eyes of hers looking up at him with such care and concern, his heart twisted in his chest.

Wrapping her up in his arms, Ryder pulled her close and tucked her head under his chin. Having her close soothed his battered, worried soul. Feeling her arms come up around his waist, he stilled and allowed his racing heart to slow.

Murmuring in her ear, he tried to reassure her. “I’m fine, doll. I promise.”

Holding him tighter, she whispered, “Someone shot at you?”

“No, it wasn’t like that,” he said, well aware he was juggling apples and oranges. “Someone shot at a woman talking to Darkness, and he jumped in front of her.”

“Did you catch the person?”

Feeling his spinal cord turn to steel, he replied quietly, “No, but we sure as hell are going to track them down.”

After a moment, Tiffany sighed and stepped back, her hand falling on his and their fingers weaving together. “Come and sit down. You can see the door from the sitting area.”

Hell, Ryder wanted to keep up with the pacing, but when his woman requested something from him, he couldn’t say no. “Sure thing, sweetness.”

Settling down into a row of joined seats along the wall, Ryder forced himself to remain calm. Eventually, law enforcement came and took awritten statement. Naturally, he told them someone shot at them, and he didn’t know who.

Ryder spread his hands. “Maybe it was just kids camped out around there, fooling around.”

Without looking up, the officer typed into his tablet. “Sounds like it. Sign here, sir.”

Too. Easy. The casual dismissal burned in his gut—not because he wanted their help, but because it proved what he'd always known: justice worked differently for men like them. They'd carved out their own brand of law because the official kind had never done them any favors.

Grabbing the stylus, Ryder scribbled his name, knowing the cops in this one-horse town didn’t give a goddamn if the outlaws shot each other up. As long as they stayed away from regular citizens, it was all good.

Shoving the stylus and tablet back at the man in blue, he grumbled, “It’s nice to see my tax dollars in action.”

Mumbling a barely audible reply, the officer turned to his partner, and they headed out.

Disgust and anger only added fuel to the fire already burning inside him. “Fucking pigs. A brother’s life ain’t worth shit to them.”

Tiffany slipped her hand into his, responding quietly, “I don’t think it’s because Darkness is a biker. Law enforcement officers tend to devalue anyone they see a lot. Bikers, addicts, the homeless, domestic violence victims…we’re all just seen as some kind of nuisance in their world.”

Ryder’s eyes jumped up to her clear blue, if somewhat bloodshot, eyes. Sighing, he tugged her closer. “This has been one hell of a night for you,hasn’t it? One minute, you’re nice and drunk, the next you’re snoring, and now you’re here.”

They sat up, as Ven pressed small paper cups of coffee into their hands. “Thanks, old man.”

Squatting down in front of him, Ven whispered, “We talked to Dwaine. Goddamn, that boy stutters so bad I finally had to give it up. We already put the clubhouse on lock-down and have every brother on the lookout for the Seven Devils.”

Nodding, Ryder took a sip of the bitter brew. It tasted like shit, but the shot of caffeine was welcome. “I wish we knew something. What’s taking so damned long?”

Tiffany squeezed his hand, and his father murmured, “Waiting is always the hardest part, son.”

---