The Rising Sons Motorcycle Club Page 15

  “Anyone else that we might suspect?”

  She waited, but no one spoke. “Fine. If we rule out McFadden, then we have to assume it’s the cops. All right, if you don’t have an assignment, you’re hangin’ here, but no more drinking for the night. Everyone else, like I said, I want you back here by the time Trask arrives. Let’s do this shit.”

  Gunner headed toward his compatriots, calling out to a few of them. Raven stood back and watched them all jump into action. She had given the orders, and to her surprise, they were following them.

  She was also surprised that such a tough group of outlaw bikers would be paralyzed with Bear out of action. She saw it as a major weakness that had never been addressed, apparently. Bear had been president of the club for its entire existence, and Raven wondered if that was maybe a bit too long. It was time for a changing of the guard.

  Gunner’s group headed off to load up on weapons. Trigger left for the hospital to stand guard along with Tanner. Raven thought that Faith would feel safer with an extra set of eyes standing watch over Bear. She watched the bikers all get to work. Some called in reinforcements. Others discussed possible enemies.

  Raven leaned back against a table. She wasn’t happy about the circumstances leading up to it, but as the de facto leader of the Rising Sons, she had never felt so good.

  The machines beeped in a steady, depressing rhythm. Bear was bandaged so much that he was almost unrecognizable. One of his eyes was covered, and gauze was wound around his head. If not for the salt and pepper stubble around his mouth, Faith wouldn’t have recognized him at all.

  She stood over him, squeezing his hand and trying not to concentrate on all the flashing lights, pumps, and bouncing lines on the monitors. It made him look like a monster about to be brought back to the world of the living. She didn’t want to think of her man like that.

  In her love-colored glasses, Bear was a rough, smart, bad boy. Ever since getting out of prison, he had kept his promise to his wife: he’d never gotten in trouble with the law, and he’d never gone back to jail. Even Faith knew the thing with Earl McFadden was horseshit. If Raven hadn’t gotten the case thrown out, Bear would have gone free. There was no weight to it. Earl just wanted to look like a big man after getting his ass kicked by a girl.

  Faith looked older. The second she’d walked through the hospital room and saw Bear unconscious, the years came down on her. Ninety-nine percent of the time, she could have passed for a woman in her mid-thirties, not edging on fifty. She never came to the bar unkempt, and she was still turning heads. They turned right back around in a hurry when they heard who she was married to, though.

  When he’d first arrived from Davis, Trask had stood in the doorway and watched his mother. They were never close, and when he’d learned the truth about his father, not much changed. By then, Bear was the president of the Rising Sons, not “Dad.” It was too late for them to have the father-son relationship. They got along, and they were built from the same mold, but that crucial connection would never be.

  Trask still hurt to see Bear looking so broken. His age showed far more than Faith’s, but he wore it well. Bear played the aging badass card all the time. In negotiations, he said, “I been around a time or two. You can’t expect me to pay that.”

  In fights, he used his looks to his advantage. He’d move slow and favor one leg, and when the enemy tried to exploit the weakness, he would strike hard and fast like a man half his age. Trask admired his father in many ways, and as he stood looking at the older man, his blood raged. He wanted to know exactly what had happened.

  Faith looked up and saw her son in the doorway. He gave a weak smile. “Hey, Mom.”

  She laid her man’s limp hand down with care and stepped around the bed. She nearly dropped to the floor before she even reached her son. Trask moved forward and scooped her up. He wrapped his arms around her and muffled her cries.

  Trask didn’t know how long they held each other, but when the embrace broke, what was left of Faith’s makeup was running down her cheeks. He pulled his bandana from his back pocket. Handing it to her, he grabbed the chair sitting near the hospital room window. He pulled it right next to Bear’s bed, and then he led his mother to the chair. Faith wasn’t one to ask for help, but she let her son move her into position, and she slid down next to her husband.

  Her son got down on his haunches and looked at her. “Tell me what happened.” His voice was low.

  Faith shook her head hard. “I don’t know. Somebody that Raven knows told me. I don’t know if he just went down, or if somebody came after him. The doctor hasn’t been in yet, so… I don’t know.” Her voice wobbled and got higher as she spoke. Near the end of the sentence, Faith couldn’t go on. She bent her head into the bandana again. Trask watched her sob.

  Outside, Tanner and Trigger sat in chairs they had dragged from the waiting room. At first they were told not to move the chairs, but the nurses soon realized the two bikers weren’t going to listen to reason, and they let the men be. They were the antithesis of cops standing guard outside of a wounded officer’s room. After all, it was the cops they were guarding against. It had been about four hours of nothing but sitting. The nurse would come by check on Bear, but there was no news or change to his condition.

  Trigger would doze from time to time, but every time his head fell back against the wall behind him, he’d spring back awake and look around. One of the better-looking nurses thought it was funny. He’d regain his composure and wink at her each time.

  Tanner was glued to his phone. He texted his sister and Jenny, letting them know what was going on. Almost none of it was news, besides Trask’s arrival. When a doctor would walk by, Trigger and Tanner would look up with expectant eyes, but they’d fall as the doc kept walking.

  An hour after Trask arrived, the doctor finally made a visit. Faith saw him come in and stood up, her hands still clutching the bandana. Trask put an arm around her shoulder after shaking the young man‘s hand. Trask didn’t consider himself old, but he felt that way standing opposite the doc, who couldn’t have been more than twenty-five. When he spoke, Trask expected his voice to crack.

  “I’m Dr. Childers.”

  “Hey, Doc,” Trask said. He knew his mother wouldn’t be able to say a word. Trask squeezed her shoulder. “Nobody’s told us anything, so lay it on us.”

  “Well, your father has been in a motorcycle accident. Luckily, he was wearing his helmet, although it was only a half-helmet, which didn’t protect the lower part of his head. We aren’t sure how long it was between the accident and when it was called in, but we do know the injuries were severe.

  “He has a broken arm, some broken fingers, and a bruised spine, but the major injury that we are monitoring closely was the trauma to his brain.”

  The doctor let it sink in. The broken bones were no big deal. They would heal, but Trask didn’t understand what the doc said about the brain injury.

  “You said he was wearing a helmet, so what’s so severe?”

  Dr. Childers gave a doctor’s smile, the one that said, oh, you who know so little. “The helmet helped, but Mr. Rivers hit the ground with such blunt trauma that even a fully padded, covered helmet wouldn’t have prevented this. It’s called a diffuse axonal injury. Essentially, there are lesions on his brain. They cover a fairly large portion of the upper left side.

  “The force of impact was so great that the helmet cracked in several places. It saved his life.” Dr. Childers looked down at his chart, flipping through the pages.

  Trask looked from his father to the doc. “Well, what’s the plan? Brain surgery? Is there swelling?” He wished to God that Hope had come with him. She was in her last year of med school, and she might be able to translate for them. Trask was barely hanging on to the doc’s words.

  “Mr. Rivers, your father is in a deep coma. At this point, all we can do is manage the lesser injuries and monitor his brain. We may need to schedule a small surgery to reduce the swelling, but at this point, we are playing
a waiting game. Comas as a result of diffuse axonal injuries are common, but the chances of regaining consciousness are low, and I’m afraid that patients suffering from this injury are often impaired mentally afterwards.”

  The doctor looked back and forth from Trask and Faith. When he saw that they weren’t getting it, he had to speak plainly. “He may never come out of this coma, and if he does, he may require twenty-four hour care for the rest of his life. There’s just no way to tell. I’m going to leave you two, but I’ll be back in an hour or so to check on his vitals again. If you have any questions, feel free to ask the nurses. They’d be more than happy to help you. Take care.”

  With that, the doc left the room. Faith turned and looked at her son. There was horror on her face. She slid back down into the chair and grabbed her husband’s hand. Trask stood there, unmoving. He was processing a ton of information. He pulled out his phone and dialed Hope. She’d be able to break it down for him.

  When she picked up, the worry was already in her voice. “Hey, love. What’s the verdict?”

  Trask pushed the words out, realizing there was a solid lump of emotion in his throat. “Uh, the doc called it a diffuse axonal injury. He’s in a coma.”

  Hope didn’t respond for a long time. Each second magnified Trask’s worry. “I’m so sorry. How’s your mom?”

  “Hanging in there. When are you coming down?”

  “I’ve got class until four tomorrow afternoon, then I’ll skip Friday and head down. Unless you need me to come down sooner?”

  Trask smiled a little bit and walked out of the hospital room. He nodded at Trigger as he passed him, “No, tomorrow’s good.” Once he was out of earshot, Trask asked, “The doc made it sound like things aren’t great. Can you shed some light on things for me?”

  “I’m gonna be honest with you, thing’s aren’t great. Bear might never come out of that coma. It’s a complete roll of the dice. The next forty-eight hours are the most telling. If his condition changes during that time, you’ll get a better sense of what’s going on, but in the meantime, just take care of your mom. Let the hospital take care of Bear.”

  “Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon, then.”

  “Who’s in control of the club right now?”

  Trask didn’t know if she was just changing the subject or she was truly interested. Either way, she brought up a good point. “I haven’t been to the bar, I’m not sure who is leading the army.”

  “Okay. See you tomorrow, love.” Hope hung up the phone.

  Trask slid his phone away and thought about that. Raven had called him to let him know, but who was the one calling the shots? Gunner was his best guess. He was the new Sergeant-at-Arms, which gave him the power of second in command. He thought that Gunner must have had Raven call to let him know.

  He turned around and headed back to Trigger. Trask beckoned him with a tilt of his head, and Trigger followed. In a snack room, they faced each other and embraced.

  “Sorry to hear about your pop, man.” Trigger slapped Trask on the back hard before they broke the hug.

  Trask nodded. “Appreciate that. The doc filled me in on the medical side of things. Now it’s your turn to fill me in on the Rising Sons side of things. Was this a deliberate attack? I’ve known that man five years, and I’ve seen him ride home from battles with bullet holes in him. I ain’t never seen him go down. You?”

  Trigger shook his head. “He wouldn’t go down unless someone put him down. That’s a fuckin’ fact. We don’t know who did it, but the club might have a better idea. Raven sent me here as a second guard as soon as she rounded everyone up.”

  “Raven rounded everyone up?” Trask looked intrigued. “I figured someone made her secretary. She’s the one that called me.”

  “Nah. She kicked everyone but the Sons out of the bar and told us the skinny. Sent me here, sent Gunner to load up on weapons. Made everyone else call members that wasn’t around.”

  Trask almost laughed, “So let me get this straight. Raven is running the club right now? The Rising Sons?”

  “I guess so.” Trigger shrugged his shoulders, and regretted it the instant his shoulder came up.

  Trask kept his voice low, but it was angry. “You guess so? Did anyone stand up to her? Did anyone tell her to sit the fuck down and shut up? You obviously didn’t. You asked ‘how high?’ when she told your sorry ass to jump.”

  “Hey. She was the one that got the news. Before we knew what was happening, she had us all seated. No one really knew what was going on, so we just went with it.”

  Trask punched the soda machine to his right. His hand went through the opaque plastic. He pulled it out and laughed. “God damn. The only woman in the club and, she’s already telling everyone what to do.”

  “You want us to head back to the bar and regroup?”

  Trask shook his head. “You’re here. Might as well stay. I’m heading there, though. I’m the one who should be running this club. Stay put until you hear from someone.” After Trigger nodded, Trask added, “Someone with a fucking rank, too.”

  Back in the hospital room, Faith’s gaze never wavered from her man. Her finger stroked Bear’s hand with the lightest touch. She leaned in close, careful that no one outside the room could hear.

  “You’re gonna pull through this. Do you understand me?” Even her whisper gave away the pain in her voice. “I need you, and I know for a fact that you need me. Without me, you’d fall apart. I know you’d never let anyone at the club know it, but who’d do your laundry? Who’d help you with all the hard decisions? That’s why you’ve got to wake up. You’re putting all the hard decisions on me and your son, now.”

  She leaned down, leaning her head against Bear’s arm. She smiled, feeling how thick and hard it still was. He had kept himself in fantastic shape over the years, and she had rewarded that by doing the same for him. She found herself thinking about religion for the first time in decades. Her thoughts were the same. If there was a god, why would He do things like this? Why would He tear a family apart for no good reason?

  She didn’t hear Trask come back into the room, and she let out a surprised cry when she felt a hand on her shoulder. “Oh, God, you scared me.” Her heart was strong, but it was being put to the test. Faith wasn’t sure how much more she could take in one day.

  “Sorry, Mom. Look, I think I need to head to the club and see what’s going on. If anyone knows anything about how this happened, I need to know. If this was an attack, we’re going to make it right. We’re going to destroy whoever thought that they could go after Bear. Are you gonna stay?”

  She nodded.

  “All right. Tanner and Trigger are going to stay too until I send two more Sons to relieve them. If you go home, make sure one of them is with you.” He looked out the window into the desert night. “Someone out there has it in for us, and I’m not going to let them get a second chance.”

  Half of the club was out. Raven had thrown a quick team together to get some supplies. They had booze to get them into next year, but the unused kitchen was empty, and she anticipated a long stay. Four more bikers were off trading out their Harleys for a pickup, then heading to the big box store for food. She checked her phone every few minutes, even when she knew there was nothing new.

  The members still at Los Bandoleros were either talking with each other or on the phone with contacts they knew.

  Sam hung up his call and shouted across the bar to her. “My cousin with the Saints said it wasn’t them.”

  “You believe him?” Raven had asked the question every time.

  “Oh, yeah. He owes me big time and wouldn’t lie. If it was them, he probably would have warned me first. For real. I saved his ass on more than one occasion.”

  “All right. Thanks, Sam.” Raven let out another sigh. It was getting late, and they were no closer to finding out who did it.