Page 119 of Riding the Edge

Chapter Thirty-five

“Sorry we’re late,” Pipe says. “We made a pit stop at Taco Bell.”

I don’t tell the poor bastard he’s got a speck of blood on his nose. Instead, I pound his shoulder with my fist and bring him against my chest.

“Thank you, brother,” I rasp, releasing him.

“You didn’t think we’d sit this one out, did you?” Jack questions, diverting my attention to him. He looks worse than he did when he showed up at Maria’s and yet here he is. I’m ashamed I ever doubted him.

Stepping forward, he places a firm hand on my shoulder and crosses the other, reaching into his vest. I cast my eyes downward when he pulls out a patch and slaps it against my chest.

“Sew that motherfucker into your leather,” he says as I take the patch from him and stare at the pink ribbon that reads, save second base.

“Jack,” I start.

“We’re brothers,” he says over me. “Through thick and thin, we’re fucking brothers.”

Two men damned by the patch.

Brothers not by kin but by the wind.

“Wolf,” Lauren calls from behind me. Pulling away from Jack, I turn and follow the path of her eyes, spotting the team of doctors making their way toward us. Stepping forward, my fist closes around the patch as I stand between Anthony and Lauren. My boys, Adrianna and Riggs come up behind us and the club stands close.

“Mr. Bianci, Mr. Scotto, Miss Bianci,” Dr. Kennedy greets.

I can barely hear them over the pulse beating in my ear.

“Doc, cut to the chase,” I plead.

“It went well,” she says, turning to the oncologist.

“We got it all,” he confirms. “Removed both tumors and any suspicious tissue. Of course, we’re still going to go ahead with the original plan of treatment, but instead of four rounds of radiation, we might be able to get away with three. It all depends on the pathology report.”

Relief.

It pours from every orifice.

“Oh my God,” Lauren cries, grabbing my arm.

“Thank you,” Anthony says, extending his hand.

“Yes,” I say hoarsely. “Thank you.” My hand lifts to the rosary on my neck and I look towards the ceiling.

Thank you.

“We were also able to begin the reconstruction process by inserting the flap tissue,” Dr. Kennedy continues, drawing my attention back to her. I watch as glances over my shoulder and her eyes widen.

“Shit,” Riggs mutters beside me. Ignoring the warning signs, I focus on the oncologist.

“When can we see her?” I question.

No one answers me.

Both Lauren and Anthony narrow their eyes and simultaneously the three of us turn around.

ATF agents.

Feds.

---