Page 78 of Axe
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Axe
“He’s out,” Ellie’s soft voice whispered as I stood in the doorway to my room.
Neiryn was asleep in the middle of my bed, and even though Ellie had said she would watch over him, I was having a hard time taking my eyes off of the little guy.
“Axe.” Her tiny hand landed on my arm. “Go, take care of things. Reagan will be here soon and she will sit with him. Okay?”
“Yeah,” I grunted.
Loch and Reagan were on their way to the clubhouse. This was one meeting that he couldn’t miss and he wasn’t about to leave Reagan behind.
Marshall, our small ass town’s sheriff, had called and pulled some strings. Ethel’s room had two guards posted outside of it, you know, just in case.
I didn’t move until Reagan tapped me on the shoulder. If she was there then that meant Loch was there, which meant it was time to get started.
“I’ve got him,” she whispered in a tired voice.
“How’s Ethel?” I asked almost afraid to hear the answer. I needed some good news right then and anything other than that might only break me.
“She’s good, Axe. She’s going to be sore for a while and she will probably curse the weather when it rains because of her hip. But she will be fine.”
“Thank fuck,” I breathed out. “Thanks for this.”
“Just go get her back.” With that, she patted me on the chest as her other hand wrapped around me in a weird, awkward side hug.
I drew in a deep breath, my eyes on the tiny, sleeping form on the bed. Then I blinked and made my way down the hall.
Calvin had been shot in the arm, but it had gone through-and-through. It was going to hurt like hell for a few days, but he’d live.
As for Brand, well, he was busted up pretty fucking bad. But that dude knew how to handle a bike, that was for fucking sure. I couldn’t say that if I’d been in his position, I would have come out as lucky as he did.
Brand walked out of the med room with a hard limp. His face, arms, one leg, and the right side of his back were torn up with road rash. His shoulder took the worst of it and thank fuck Patch covered that shit with a ton of gauze. Patch had been in there over an hour just picking shit out of his scrapes.
Brand gave me a chin lift as he tried to shake off his pain.
Chris followed right behind him out of the med room. His face looked white as a ghost.
“You alright?” I asked and Patch chuckled from inside the doorway.
“No,” Chris said then swallowed hard.
“Thanks for the help, man,” Patch said in Chris’ direction.
“Yep, anytime.” He ran his hands through his hair and looked at Brand. “And by anytime, I mean never again.”
Brand slapped Chris on the back then his face turned into a pinched grimace of pain.
“Sorry about your bike, brother,” I said as I gave him a sad smile. I could see the sorrow cloud his eyes, not only was that thing his baby, but it was a huge reminder of his past.
“I’ll see how bad it is,” he said then sniffed. “But right fucking now we got shit to take care of. I’m sorry, man.”
“Not your fault.” It wasn’t. It was mine. I had failed and this was life’s way of telling me I’d never be able to save anyone. I was worthless. Just like my dad had always said.
“Let’s just get her back and then you can beat yourself up all you want,” Brand said, his hand descended on my shoulder and he gave a firm squeeze. It was like the fucker was in my head. Then again, it was probably written all over my face. “I got your back, brother.”
I snorted.
