Lost gives a frustrated shrug.
“If it’s humanely possible, they’ll do it. If I’ve got anything to do with it,” Preacher snarls, pushing Lost out of the way, and checking Niran’s pulse. “I gave him a shot of morphine. He’s out of it for the minute. Needed him still for transport.”
“Well, let’s get him loaded up.” I turn to beckon Brute to bring the truck closer.
“Nah.” Preacher turns back to me. “I’m calling in a favour. Got a helicopter coming in. It’s not a LifeFlight, but it’s as close as I could get. One of my old Air Force buddies is bringing a medic. They’ll get him to a hospital. If his foot can be saved, he’ll need treatment fast.”
“I’m going with him.” Saffie’s come up beside me. Her face is set, and her jaw is stubbornly jutted.
Now there’s something different about her. Her compassion isn’t for herself, it’s for the man lying prone at our feet. Falling to her knees, she gently strokes his forehead.
Lost pulls me away. Reluctantly, I leave my brother. “Worst thing they could have fuckin’ done. Preacher’s not convinced he can feel a pedal pulse. If it’s there, it’s weak.”
He doesn’t have to tell me. Niran was bitter when a careless driver ended his career in the Marines, but he’d come back with the help of the Satan’s Devils. Losing his one working foot would be devastating and a massive set back.
A hand slaps down on my back. “They’ll fuckin’ save it, Brother. If not,” Bolt waggles his impressive fake hand, “we’ll get him to the fucker who makes these. He’ll be riding again, one way or another.”
A whop whop sound fills the air. As I look up, Preacher’s already in place, signalling where his buddy should land. The next few minutes are taken up with the medic checking Niran’s vitals, setting up an IV and then, after applying some splints which Preacher had been hesitant to use, his foot and leg are immobilised. After transferring Niran to a proper stretcher, he’s loaded in.
Saffie, to my surprise, announces shakily that she’s his old lady and won’t be parted from him. Dart, pulling rank, also goes along for the ride. I wanted to go myself, but there’s no room for anyone else inside.
Then, less than a quarter of an hour after it arrived, the helicopter lifts into the air. My eyes follow it until it disappears from sight, and only belatedly I ask, “Where are they taking him?”
It’s Preacher who answers. “A hospital in Utah. They’re already prepared to receive him.”
“We’ve got to get moving.” Drummer appears, marching alongside Snatcher. “There’s a barn full of women who need to be attended to.”
Jeez. I’d forgotten about them. “How many are there? Are they okay? What’s the plan? Have you freed them?”
“Far too fuckin’ many,” Wraith, by Drummer’s side, answers. “And nah, we’re not doing a thing. We’ve been watching to make sure no sparks were going to set light to the building, but the fire’s dying down enough now so it’s safe to leave them.”
“Didn’t you think they might want to know they’re safe?” My eyes widen.
Snatcher stares at me and shakes his head, then indicates the burned-out shell behind me. “Forty plus Devils are here, Brother. Fuck knows how many Wolves we’ve killed. Can’t afford those women to say anything about who’s rescued them. Soon as we’re out of here, we’ll call it in. Anonymously.”
Drummer exchanges a glance with his sergeant-at-arms before turning to address Snatcher. “I concur, Snatch. The Crazy Wolves haven’t exactly made friends, and hopefully the cops won’t look too closely. As long as you’re sure Stormy’s set it up to look like they got careless with explosives, we shouldn’t be linked to this.”
“And the bullet holes in all the bodies?” I roll my eyes, wondering how that would fool anyone.
Drummer’s steely eyes land on me, making me stand straighter, while internally I’m shrinking. “Ammunition lying around is unpredictable in fire, Brother. And, they’d have to do autopsies to discover the bullet holes. With the Crazy Wolves, do you think they’d bother?”
Personally I think they’ll be grateful that their job’s been done.
Snatcher, halting his private aside conversation with Swift, joins in. “We might just let it slip it was a mafia hit, just to deflect attention.”
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and frown, wondering why Connor’s calling me. If it was about the club, his instructions were to call the prez or VP. Moving away slightly, I take the device out and press the green key.
“Grumbler.”
“Mary needs you. She’s been taken to the hospital.”
My world feels like it’s stopped turning. “What the fuck? What’s happened?”
“I don’t know. Something about blood pressure and the baby. Can you get here fast, Grumbler?”
I can’t breathe, can’t speak. All my fucking fears I’ve been suppressing for the last eight months come hurtling back to me. We should have ended the pregnancy. We both knew the risks. God forbid, I lose Mary or the baby. And here I am, stuck four hundred miles away. I’d been worried about not returning to them. I never thought they might not be there waiting for me.
“Brother?”