"Slash and his crew," my father told me. "They were out for a ride, saw it on their way back, and came to tell us. We've been looking since."
"I should have used Danny's phone to call. Mine got wrecked when I landed on it."
"On it," Brooks said, giving me a nod, then moving off to, presumably, find me another phone.
"The bike needs to be scrapped," my Uncle Repo told me. "I can go find you a new one in the morning. And a helmet. That fucker saved your life," he said, making my mom whimper again, grabbing my hand harder.
"I'm fine," I told her, giving her hand a squeeze back.
"Why don't you clean up, wrap up, and ice up?" my father suggested. "You've done enough tonight. Let us handle the research."
"I am fucking filthy," I agreed, shooting my mom a guilty look.
"Here, I'll help you into your room," my mom said, helping me to my feet, and taking some of my weight. "You're sure you're okay?" she asked when we got into my room. "I know you have to put on a brave face for the men, just like your father always did, but you can tell me."
"I'm okay," I assured her. "Everything hurts, and I need to get this grave dirt off of me, but I'm okay. I promise."
"I'm staying here tonight," she told me, going around my room, grabbing clothes and towels, and putting them all in my bathroom. "So if you need me, just call, okay?"
"Okay, Ma."
"Love you, bud."
"Love you too," I said, offering her a smile that sapped all of the false nonchalance I had left.
Alone, I hissed and grumbled and cursed my way through a shower.
It wasn't until I was grabbing my towel that I realized I wasn't alone.
"For fuck's sake, Dezi," I snapped. "How about knocking?"
"What's the big deal, boss man? We all have the same parts. I just wanted to sneak you some happy pills," he said, wiggling a pill bottle in the air. "Got these pain meds that last time I got my tooth knocked out. Should help the shoulder and knee. They're bruising up good," he added, putting the pill bottle on the sink counter. "You wanna talk about it?"
"I'm fucking naked here, Dezi," I said, snorting. "There's nothing to talk about," I added.
"Had a life-flash-before-your-eyes night. Worth talking about, I figure."
"Your life flashes before your eyes on a monthly basis."
"Yeah, well, it loses its novelty after the first time," he said with a smirk. "Alright, if you don't want to talk about it, I guess I should send out an alert to the girls that you need some comforting."
"You just want Holly to bring baked goods," I said, shaking my head at him.
"Well, you got me," he admitted, walking toward the door, then turning back. "Interesting scratch marks on your legs," he said, giving me a raised brow and a knowing smirk before turning and leaving.
Alone, my gaze went down to see that, sure enough, Danny had clawed at my thighs as she came, leaving me with long red scratches.
Shit.
Now the question was, did Dezi actually guess what was going on, or was he just remarking on what he saw?
That was the thing with Dezi, you never knew. He was easy to underestimate because he often presented as clueless and party-loving. But there were moments when you caught a flash of something else in him, something wise and worldly and insightful, something knowing. But it was there and gone so fast that you were likely to brush it off as something you imagined.
Whatever it was, though, I was going to need to keep a close eye on him for a while to make sure he wasn't onto Danny and my plan to share information. The last thing I needed was my men to be doubting me or mistrusting me. Especially when there was a threat hanging over not only our club, but the Vultures' too.
Someone wanted to take us out.
And take over.
We needed both our clubs to be strong and confident in their leadership until we figured out who it was, and took them out.
I cursed through drying myself off, wrapping up my knee, and getting dressed. Well, half-dressed. I couldn't manage to get my arm up to get in a shirt, so I decided to skip it.
I was just starting to feel the buzz from the pain meds Dezi gave me when there was a knock at my door by someone who didn't wait to let themself in.
"Wow. You look like crap," my sister said, leaning back against the closed door in her black jeans, combat boots, and leather jacket.
In a building full of certified killers, Ferryn was the most dangerous of all of us.
"Thanks," I said, pulling myself up in bed. "What's up?"
"Well, you hear your brother almost dies, and you kind of have to come to make sure he's still kicking."