Page 33 of Dash

Odin’s Fury: Hospital.

Well, fuck him sideways with a stolen dick.

Dash shouldn’t have lit a cigarette outside the hospital when he dismounted his bike. He sure as shit shouldn’t have leaned against the wall, staring at the row of Harleys as he took his sweet ass time smoking it, either. But he did. It dangled from his lip as he watched the moth flittering around the cone of light cast down from the street lamp, illuminating the parking lot.

They’d rushed the former president of Ohio’s club there. Bowie could die and Dash what? Couldn’t bring himself to go inside? He was such a pussy.

Pinching the orange end of the butt between his fingers, he examined the still burning stick of paper and tobacco. He had maybe two puffs left. The white trail of smoke reached upward, dissipating into the darkness of the night until it disappeared into blackness.

“You got another one?” the familiar voice asked, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“Your woman will kill me.” Dash put his cigarette back in his mouth as he dug out his pack, extending it, and a lighter, toward his brother.

Romeo swiped it. “I believe the code is bros before hoes.”

The bald biker exhaled before he snorted. “I’ll be sure to tell her you called her a hoe.”

“Do I have to repeat myself?” Romeo asked. Placing a butt on his lip, he flicked the lighter to life and lit it, then handed the pack back.

Snubbing his own cigarette out on the bottom of his boot, Dash stuffed it in the tall disposal for such things before facing his younger club brother. “How bad is it?”

With his eyes closed, the dark-haired man pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t know. He passed out coming back from the shitter. Fuck, I had to catch him.” He sighed, as he looked at Dash. “The hospice nurse wanted him to piss in a bag or something, run a tube down his dick, but Bowie’s not having it.”

Dash winced at the thought of anything going into his own cock and covered his groin reflexively.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “So, they got him here, and now I don’t know what. Jan and Sparrow are crying. I just needed a minute. You know? The guys are inside.”

“We all can’t be here,” Dash said as he ran his hand over his head. He’d used a straight razor on it that morning, so it felt extra smooth.

Romeo exhaled smoke as he spoke, which altered his voice. “Obviously. Clark’s barking, telling fuckers to go back to the clubhouse. You gotta go in there and back him up. Herd some of these blind fucking kittens back to their nest or something, VP.”

Sighing, Dash nodded. He was Vice President now. He wasn’t SAA of Montana in Ohio; he was V fucking P of Ohio. He needed to act like it. He had to back Clark’s play. “Right.” He slapped Romeo on the back and headed into the hospital to face the piper.

Once inside, it was easy to find his brothers. Three security guards lingered near one doorway, and the sign indicated it was an emergency room waiting area. Citizens always got nervous around them. Most of the time, he found it amusing, and played into that fear. Today, he had to be the grown up in the room.

Dash nodded to the men with their hands already resting near the large radios they had clipped to their belts. He assumed they were a direct line to the local law enforcement. Direct line meant they weren’t cops. Luckily they weren’t armed—another sigh. They weren’t cops, just security for the hospital. While it was the perfect location in the event of a misunderstanding, he would like to avoid any sort of mess.

“Gentlemen,” he said in an attempt to be polite. There was no way to hide his affiliation with the men inside, not that Dash ever would. Fury forever, forever Fury.

They narrowed their eyes, but offered chin juts in greeting as they parted just enough for Dash to slip past them.

Inside the room, a sea of leather vests with Odin’s profile greeted him. Surveying the group, he spotted Mooky and Blue right off the bat. Clark was in a corner with Sparrow and her mom, hugging one another. He could hear their sobs from the door. Taking a deep breath, he marched over to his president.

“Prez,” he greeted and Clark turned to him with a tight expression. Deep lines creased his features. President for mere days and it already wore on him.

“We need to clear the room, and get a rotation going or something.” He scrubbed his hands down his face.

Dash nodded and brought his fingers to his lips and blew a high-pitched whistle to break through the steady thrum of conversation. Inappropriate considering this was a place of healing? Yes. However, he did what he had to do to get the attention of the club. It earned him dirty looks—he didn’t care.

“Hey,” he called and his brothers turned toward him. “Cajun, take everyone the fuck home,” he ordered the Sergeant at Arms. “Prez, me, Jan, Romeo, Sparrow, and Dixie will stay here. That’s enough. We will update you.”

“Got it, VP,” Cajun called over the crowd in his heavy accent. Dash didn’t know how long he’d been in the club or how long he’d been out of Louisiana, but it sounded like it’d been a week from his accent. Though now wasn’t the time to discuss it with Clark.

Grumbling, and with only a few curses, eventually the group of bikers made their way out of the waiting room. With the flow of exiting men, Romeo stood out, going against the crowd. Eventually, he made it to his woman’s side. Breaking away from her mother, Sparrow pressed her face against his chest, and he wrapped his arm around her. Rubbing her with one hand, the other came around and ran through her unruly brown hair.

“Any update?” he asked, looking to his brothers.

Clark shook his head. “Jan hasn’t come out, they won’t let us back there.”

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