Page 801 of The Tempted

Chapter Forty-Two

I lean my elbows on my knees and stare at the glass doors as the sirens draw closer. After the call from Maria informing us of the explosion Lauren and I chartered my parents’ jet and hauled ass to the hospital. From take-off to landing we took two and a half hours to arrive. We’ve been waiting for a little over an hour now with still no word of anyone being brought in from the Dog Pound. Every time the doors open and they wheel in another stranger I lose my fucking shit. I’ve been here before. Sitting here helpless, waiting for word of those that matter and I swore I’d never do it again.

The only silver lining is Kitten is beside me and not on a gurney speeding through the emergency room.

“Look,” she says beside me, wrapping her arm around mine as she leans her head on my shoulder and points toward the dozen doctors running straight to the emergency room entrance.

“That’s gotta be them,” I reply.

Together we stand and make our way to the entrance, catching sight of the first ambulance that pulls in front.

“Thirty-year-old female. Thirty weeks pregnant, contractions are seven minutes apart but her water hasn’t broken,” the paramedic shouts as the team of doctors wheel Reina through the doors.

“Jack! Where’s Jack?”

“Ma’am, I already told you we’ve got him. He’s in the next ambulance,” the paramedic assures her.

“Reina!” I shout, trying to make my way over to her but I’m quickly pushed back as the doctors’ race away from the door. I spin around as another gurney is pushed through the doors.

“Second-degree burns to his back and he can’t hear out of both ears,” someone says as they wheel Jack into the hospital.

barely process my president lying helpless on a stretcher.

“We’ve got a massive coronary over here,” another paramedic hollers from the street, lifting Wolf from the back of the ambulance.

“Oh my God,” Lauren cries next to me, covering her face with her hands as the parade of injuries continues all at once.

“Kitten,” I murmur, peeling back her hands as Anthony appears. A nurse pushes him in a wheelchair as he holds an oxygen mask to his face. His other arm is fucked up, covered in blood and wrapped with a tie.

Lauren locks eyes with her brother and takes off running for him.

“You’re okay,” she cries, bending down to throw her arms around him. I watch as he removes the mask and wraps his good arm around her. “Where’s Adrianna?”

“Right here,” she calls from behind him.

If the circumstances were different, and I wasn’t so fucking relieved to see the Biancis, I’d bust their balls over thehisandherwheel chairs they were sporting, but fuck, I was just happy they were breathing.

I tried to keep tally of everyone and their injuries, silently breathing a sigh of relief each time another wounded victim was brought in through the doors.

So far no casualties.

The doctors were working to stop Reina’s labor. Jack was being treated for first and second-degree burns and they feared he may be deaf. Wolf needed emergency surgery after suffering a massive heart attack. Anthony needed thirty-seven stitches for that injury to his arm and a pint of blood. Adrianna broke her wrist and the soles of her feet needed stitches. Mike broke both his legs and suffered a concussion. Nikki needed sixteen stitches to close the gash in her arm. Blackie and Lacey were both treated for minor lacerations.

Pipe was still missing.

So were the nomads.

Another ambulance pulls up and Stryker jumps out the back, stepping aside as they wheel in Linc. He was in bad shape and they needed to get him into surgery immediately. The doctors hollered all sorts of medical mumbo jumbo but the one word that stuck with me was paralysis.

Insisting he was fine, Stryker refused medical treatment, but the man was badly burned on one side of his arm. I tore my eyes from him as Cobra walked in covered in blood and froze. The past hit me like a ton of bricks and for a split second I remembered being in his shoes, only the blood I wore was Lauren’s and Bones’.

I watched as he stepped aside, and Pipe came into my sight, walking alongside a stretcher carrying a black body bag.

“Sir, you can’t come with us,” the paramedic told him.

“The fuck I can’t,” he growled, his eyes staring daggers into the man denying him.

I glanced back at Cobra, looking for answers as to who the victim was and notice the pair of red shoes he carried in his hands.

---