“Yeah.”
I peered up at him, feeling drugged and loopy, my brain and words struggling. “Piece this together for me, because I have no idea how you’re not in jail and I swear, while I was bleeding out propped up against the van, I thought I heard your voice.”
“You did hear me.” He raked a hand through his hair and grimaced at the sudden pain from moving his side and feeling his own wound.
The irony, that we both had bullet wounds, courtesy of one insane MC president.
“Vance—our club lawyer made a call to a high-profile judge, who made a call to the mayor, who called the sheriff.”
“Interesting chain of command,” I murmured, wondering what that conversation had sounded like and how the hell a judge was ordering the mayor to do anything.
“Anyway, Flynn and Ramsey met us at the station with our bikes. On our way to the warehouse, we got caught up in a firefight with Dev’s men. It was an ambush. If it hadn’t been for Knight and the Idaho boys, we wouldn’t have been able to get out of there.”
“I don’t understand.”
“There was a shooting. Knight and his boys took over the fight. Most of them are former military, remember? They covered us while we rode to the warehouse and they killed a few of Dev’s men. The Jackals were supposed to be riding with us, but they had an issue on their own turf. Someone in their club ratted us out to Dev, probably hoping to get in tight with the Iron Horsemen. Dev knew the rest of the Jackals would ride with us against him, so he created a diversion to keep the Jackals close to home. We lost them as backup.
“By the time we got over to the warehouse, we found you bleeding out by a van, the warehouse was on fire, and Dev was gone.”
My breath caught. “He escaped? After all of this?”
“For now.”
“Are you—” I exhaled. “Are you going to track him down?”
Colt shook his head. “Mateo Sanchez has Franco on it already. They’ll find Dev and then hand him over to the cartel and let Alejandro decide what’s to be done with him. He’s no longer our problem, and with the coke all gone, he’d be stupid to ever come back to Waco. Once Alejandro finds out that the coke is missing along with Dev, the entire crew is history.”
I shivered. “What about their wives and children? I know what cartels do. They murder entire families just to make a point. They’ve even killed people’s dogs before.”
“I’ve already asked Sanchez to negotiate for their safety.”
“What will that cost us? The price has been too high already!” I cried, hysteria rising in my tone.
Colt placed his hand on my shoulder. “Easy. Take it easy.”
“I can’t.”
“You need to take a deep breath for me.”
When I felt like I was calm, I had to ask, “Will Alejandro come after me? Us? We were the ones who burned his coke to the ground. It was worth millions…”
“Only after Dev let it slip through his fingers. No. Alejandro won’t come after us because Sanchez’s men are sticking close to Waco to ensure the peace. Even a few million dollars in cocaine isn’t enough for Alejandro to take on another cartel head to head. Especially not in the States. That’s bad for business. It’s better for him to wipe out the Iron Horsemen so his street cred stays valid and leave out the details that we’re now working with Sanchez. It will look like the Iron Horsemen fucked with a cartel and got obliterated, which is true. All the other shit will be swept under the rug.”
I wasn’t sure that gave me any comfort.
“How’s your pain?” he asked suddenly.
“What pain? Morphine is kind of swell.”
He didn’t smile at my light tone and I was instantly on my guard. “You’re going to yell at me, aren’t you?”
“You think I’d yell at you while you were lying in a hospital bed after having been shot because you willingly placed yourself in danger even though you had no business being in danger in the first place?”
I paused, pretending to look thoughtful. “Yeah, I think you’d yell at me.”
“Well, you’re damn fucking right I’d yell at you,” he bellowed. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
“I was thinking,” I replied, tone calm, “that you guys were in jail and I had no idea when you’d be getting out. I knew this stuff with Dev was a time sensitive issue and it needed to be dealt with.”
“What else,” he demanded. “What are you leaving out?”
“This was personal for me, and if I didn’t have a stake in taking him down, I knew I’d always regret it. And I’d never find peace with Shelly’s death. But you knew all that. So why do you seem so surprised?”
“Surprised doesn’t even begin to express how I feel. I was scared shitless knowing I couldn’t protect you.” He hung his head in near defeat. “You can’t always go charging into dangerous situations.”
“I didn’t charge. I sat down and planned with Gray, Torque, Flynn and the others.”
I closed my eyes, not because I was finished with the conversation, but because the morphine was flowing and I felt myself slipping away from consciousness.
“We’re not done with this discussion,” Colt whispered in my ear.
“You haven’t told me you loved me,” I mumbled.
“I thought that was a given.”
“I told you I loved you after you got shot. It’s courteous to repay in kind.”
His lips brushed my forehead. “I love you. Losing you would devastate me. My life has no meaning without you. There. Are you happy?”
I smiled, my eyes still closed, “Your delivery needs work, but yeah, Colt. That made me happy.”
The next time I woke up, it was late at night and Colt was standing by the window, staring out at the hospital grounds.
He must have heard me stir and turned back to look at me. There was hardly any moon or starlight, and I could only faintly make out the outline of his big, brawny body.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, stalking toward my bedside and reaching for the pitcher of water.
“I don’t know.” I pressed my tongue to the roof of my dry mouth. “Will you flip on the lamp?”
He did as I requested.
“How do I feel,” I repeated. “Like down is up and up is down. Like my emotions are all scrambled and I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel.”
“You’re supposed to feel whatever you want to feel.”
I frowned, taking the glass of water and bringing the straw to my lips. After I had my fill, Colt took it from me and set it aside.
“You haven’t kissed me. You’ve barely touched me,” I said.
“You’re in a hospital bed. Did you kiss or touch me when I was laid up in bed?”
“I think I did touch you. And I think you wanted me to touch you. Why won’t you touch me now? I’m not talking carnal—just gentle intimacy. I know something is going on with you. What is it?”
“I’m fucking livid with you,” he said, his voice dispassionate. “I’ve had hours to think while you’ve been asleep and I just—haven’t figured out how to wrap my head around your actions.”