I watched as Voss tucked the bag of shit into the trunk of Louana’s car before he came back.
“Circling back to clean out the van and find your shirt,” he told me. “Then I am going to check in with the crew and get some antiseptic supplies. Tell me about the hotel.”
“Booked it under a fake name and ID. Close match, but not my actual picture.”
“Good. Leave anything there?”
“I took it all,” Louana said as she slid into the driver’s seat.
“Got the card?” he asked.
“Yeah, here,” she said even as I reached for my wallet to give him mine too.
“I’ll check out on the TV and drop ‘em in the lobby,” he said. “After I give it a wipe down.”
“Thanks, man,” I said, giving him a nod.
To that, he just gave me a shrug. “When you get to a different hotel, give me the details, and I can drop by with the wound shit,” he said.
And with that, he was gone.
“Jesus Christ,” I said, slamming my head back on the rest, not sure what I was more overwhelmed with—the pain or the insanity of my rescue, and the loyalty of my friends.
“Yeah, that about sums it up. If you can’t put your belt on, brace yourself so you don’t bounce around. We’re getting the fuck out of here,” she said.
I barely got a chance to do as she instructed before we were driving off. Not speeding, but almost pushing the limits.
“Here,” she said, tossing her phone at me. “Call your parents. They need to hear from you.”
With that, I did.
There was about ten seconds of telling me they loved me and were glad I was okay before the berating started.
“You deserve it,” Louana whispered to me, clearly hearing my mom ranting at me through the phone.
I did.
I’d been reckless.
I’d made them all worry.
I put Louana and Voss and the others at a lot of risk because I hadn’t said shit, because I thought I could handle it myself.
That was the point of the club, wasn’t it?
That I didn’t have to handle anything on my own anymore.
“Alright. They gave me a lot of shit,” Louana said as she came back to the car after heading into the hotel she’d settled on. “But I got them to let us check in early by making them think they fucked up and lost our reservation from last night,” she said as she rummaged around in the back of her car, producing a wrinkled sweatshirt that was going to be tight. “You can’t go in there bruised and bloody,” she reasoned when I grumbled.
“Hey, Lulu,” I called after she helped me into the arms of the shirt, then yanked it down over my body where it fit more like a undershirt than a sweatshirt.
“Yeah?” she asked, her gaze lifting.
“Thank you.”
“Oh, don’t thank me. I have a lot of ranting and raging to do once I get you inside,” she warned me.
“I can’t wait,” I said with a smirk as she climbed out of the car.
And, oddly, I meant that.
Because when Louana ranted and raved, it was with love. Love was what I wanted from her.
Now.
Forever.
And I was looking for a chance to explain that to her.
The hotel was leaps and bounds better than the one I’d been crashing at to keep an eye on Curtis and his crew.
The room was done in shades of gray and crisp white, everything smelling and looking clean and new. I almost felt bad being in it with all my injuries.
“Come on, big guy,” she said, guiding me toward the bathroom which was done in all white. “We need hard surfaces for this part,” she told me as she closed the toilet lid and dropped me down onto it.
“Not looking forward to it,” I admitted as she turned to walk back toward the door when there was a knock from the hall.
“Well, then, don’t go off on your own when you know you have a whole club of brothers behind you,” she said as she led Voss into the bathroom with his bags full of supplies.
“And sisters,” I added, looking at her.
“Yeah, well, somehow I doubt I will be allowed to stay for much longer. You don’t tend to graduate past prospecting when you tell the president to kiss your ass,” she told me as she rifled through the bags, spreading out items across the counter.
“Nice shirt,” he said, smirking at me.
“I think you guys are going to need to cut it off of me,” I admitted, cringing at the idea of having them have to yank it up over my battered midsection.
“Well, luckily, Voss here covered all the bases,” Louana said, coming at me with a scissor.
“You really told Fallon to kiss your ass?” I asked as she stood in front of me, slicing the material up my front.
“He really needed to be told,” she said, cutting the collar, then moving down each arm until the shirt was just tatters of material on the ground.