Page 65 of Property of Thrasher
“Thank you,” DK said, and the doc nodded and left.
Melody turned into me, pressing her face into my chest, and the sob that tore out of her felt like it came from the bottom of the ocean. I held on and let it wash through us both. It wasn’t over. Not even close. But we had a grip.
When she calmed, DK’s phone buzzed. He scanned the screen, then lifted his eyes to mine. “Cops confirmed plate to BJ’s father,” he said. “They’ve got a BOLO out. They’ll put plainclothes on the hotel and around here for a day. We’ll do our own.”
“Church call it.” I ordered.
“Ten minutes,” DK said as he began typing the mass message. “Out in the lot. I want you in it, Thrasher, Mel will be in with Lyric, “he softened, and that alone could’ve brought a weaker woman to tears, “you’re coming with us only as far as the door. Pinky’ll sit with you. When ICU lets one in, you go. We’ll rotate after. We gotta make some plans.”
She nodded, wiping her cheeks with her wrists like a kid, and then she straightened her spine. She looked small and scraped up and more dangerous than anyone who’d ever tried to put her in a box. I kissed her forehead hard enough to anchor me, then handed her to Pinky like I was giving a man a treasure to guard. With his parole, he couldn’t be tied up in what came next. Having him visible in this hospital would make shit even better for him when it hit the fan.
Outside, the evening had edged toward night. The parking lot lights threw long cones across the asphalt. Brothers arrived, a thick circle of leather and grim faces, the kind of force that made ordinary men step around us wide even if they didn’t know why.
“We’re not doing a full formal run,” I started. “Just setting lanes. DK, you and K-9 take Widower and Sweeper. You plant at that timber road’s mouth. Nothing moves without you knowing. I want eyes, not a confrontation. You see that truck, you trail, you don’t tag. You risk nothing. That was Guru’s last location on any of their phones. Got it?”
“Copy,” they replied and nodded.
“Pinky will run the hospital rotation with Prospects One and Two. Nobody’s alone in a hallway. Nobody argues with a nurse. If security asks, you’re waiting on good news, end of story. You keep Melody in your sight at all times.”
There were affirmative mumbles and nods all around..
“Healer, I want a pull on everything public about that family through back channels. Property records, hunting leases, citations, complaints, county board minutes. If there’s a man on that board with a brother named Logan or a nephew who got too big for his boots, I want it in my phone. Got it?”
Healer’s eyes had that quicksilver shine they got when a puzzle landed in his hands. “On it.” He was our club chapel and steady as a rock in crisis situations.
“That’s it. Move.”
Some peeled off, others stayed according to their assignments. The plan wasn’t complicated and it didn’t need to be. Most plans worth a damn weren’t—too many moving parts and men got fancy instead of effective. That landed asses in jail or under ground.
Before I went back in to kiss Melody once and head for the road, I paused. The anger was still there, coiled and ready, but it wasn’t running me. It was mine to put on a leash and unclip when the moment demanded.
I looked up at the hospital windows—bright boxes in the early dark—and thought about Tiny under those lights, his big stubborn heart pounding against a skull that needed to stop swelling, Lyric stitched and bandaged and fighting the kind of fight you don’t ask for. If either of them could hear me, I wanted them to hear this:
We’ve got you. We’ll hold the line. We’ll make it count.
Inside, ICU finally paged us. One at a time meant one at a time. Melody went first. She squeezed my hand so tight I lost feeling in two fingers, then disappeared through a door where visitors wore masks and washed their hands twice and spoke in whispers like prayer.
I sat in the chair outside the glass and waited to trade places, DK already at my shoulder, Thrust a shadow on the wall, Pinky checking the weather cams on his phone like the sky would tell him when to move.
When Melody came out, her eyes were swollen but different now—like she’d stood at a cliff, looked down, and chosen to stand taller rather than back away from the fear. She told me Lyric’s fingers twitched when she talked, that her skin was warm and not waxy, that machines beeped like keeping time she could bear to hear.
“Tell her we’re here,” I said. “Tell her Tiny’s being stubborn same as always. Tell her we’re gonna make sure she gets the chance to kick his ass for taking that light first.”
A ghost of a smile chased through her expression. “I did.”
“Good,” I said, and brushed my knuckles down her cheek. “Now tell me again about Logan’s scar.”
She didn’t flinch from the memory this time. She told me while I listened like a man memorizing a map. Then I kissed her, swift and sure, and turned toward the doors.
Time to show this motherfucker he messed with the wrong ones. I was going to end their entire bloodline if necessary to keep my woman safe.
18
MELODY
I knew before the doctor even opened his mouth.
The hallway was too quiet. The nurse wouldn’t meet my eyes. Thrasher’s hand tightened around mine like he felt it too—like he knew the world was about to split right down the middle and take me with it. He had left for about an hour, but came back after talking to whatever brother he needed a meeting with. I didn’t ask questions because none of it mattered to me.
