Page 46 of Devil's Own: Roughneck

I shake my head. “He said they were getting the best care.”

“The best care?” she asks. “Those were his exact words?”

“Yes.”

“The Death Bringers are out of Florida, right?”

Rolling my eyes, I answer, “Unfortunately.”

“Those assholes went to Florida,” she says.

“How do you know?”

“Because Sarge’s Raiders team works out of Miami. They have this underground hospital set up to care for people who do less-than-legal operations who get injured but don’t want to report how or why the injury occurred.”

“If they were still here, we’d have heard something. Is that what you’re saying?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Multiple gunshots? They’d be at a hospital. Dr. Brennan-Ellis is a great doctor, but if she had that many men to look after, she’d have called me in for reinforcements.”

“I’m going,” I say, surprising myself. “It’s my fight too. You weren’t there. You didn’t see what they did to my home in Sarasota. But you sure as hell saw my home up here.”

“I sure as hell did.”

“And I love having Rough looking out for me, but I’m not a damsel in distress. I take care of my own shit. I always have.”

“Reap knows I don’t play the damsel, either. We need to figure out how to sneak out, though.”

“‘We’?”

“Bitch, please—you better believe I’m coming with.”

I laugh. “But you’re pregnant.”

“And? I can still shoot and I can give medical attention.”

“You can shoot?” I ask, amazed.

She nods. “Reap taught me way back when we first met.”

“Is there anything you can’t do?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Bringing Danni in, by the way. She doesn’t have kids. She’s brave and is a dead shot.”

Danni’s good people. She’s bonded with Aja and Dusty. We just don’t see her as often because she and Green live in Bentley, a half-hour away, and she’s in school—criminal justice. From what I hear, she wants to work for the FBI one day. I’m not sure how a relationship between an FBI agent and an outlaw biker will work, but I bet it’ll be interesting.

“Meet me in my room with Danni in ten,” I say. Then she turns to head in first. I give her a minute then head inside, walking through the common to the hallway and back to my room, where I wait.

Exactly ten minutes after she walked back in, there’s a knock on my door. “Open,” I call out and the door opens. In strolls Dusty and the gorgeous Danni with her long, blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail and cute baby-doll tee and jeans that make her look more like a cheerleader or sorority sister rather than a biker’s old lady.

I greet them. “Ladies.”

Danni makes sure to shut the door completely before asking, “So why the secrecy?”

It appears that Dusty didn’t fill her in yet. “The men are in Florida.”

“Are you kidding me?” she asks, affronted.

“I wish I were. That’s not the only thing—several of the brothers were injured. Shot, from what I understand.” Then I go on to explain the phone call I got from Carter.

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