“Fuck, Beretta, wait!” I call out for her and try to run behind her, but I don’t have my clothes on.
“Goddammit!” I roar as I quickly pull my clothes on. Just as I’m tugging a shirt over my head, I hear the clubhouse door slam shut. I need to get to her. I grab my phone off the tabletop and burst out of my room. Everyone who’s in the main area is looking at me. I don’t know how much they heard, but I can’t focus on that right now. I need to get to Beretta. I have to fix this. I can’t lose her again.
Just as my foot touches the first stair. I hear an all too familiar sound.
Gunshots.
Someone’s outside shooting where my Beretta is.
Not again.
My stomach drops to my feet as I basically fly to the front door, the rest of the club already rushing to get to the threat.
I don’t hear anything. I don’t see anything.
My heart has stopped beating, and it won’t start again until I know my woman is safe in my arms.
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
Beretta
He’s trying to stop me, to keep me here in the club, but how can I stay when the reality of all this comes to light? God, I’m so angry at Muffler. I can’t even comprehend the bullshit he had me endure. He could’ve done something to try and jog my memory. He could’ve been honest with me, even if it was against the so-called doctor’s orders.
Hoodrat rushes up to me as I exit through the garage doorway. “Beretta, what the hell is goin’ on?” His eyes are wide, and worry fills his expression. He grabs my arm, and all I can do is stare at the grip he has on me, then yank my arm away with all my might.
“I remember. In fact, I remembereverything.” My tone is as callous as it’s ever been, and I’m fighting back tears as hard as I can. My body, my very being, it wants them to fall because I feel so betrayed right now. I feel downright lied to. They’ve kept this from me and made it seem like we were years in the past. It’s all fucking bullshit! “I can’t believe you’d go along with this. You, of all people, would let them go along with this.”
“Beretta, come on. Let’s go back inside and talk about this.” I know what my brother’s doing right now. He’s trying to be the middleman. Trying to make sure I don’t do something stupid, but I’m not the one who’s acting stupid. I can’t say for the people in this club who kept up this charade, though. “Look, I know this isn’t what you wanted. I know you wouldn’t want us lyin’ to you about this, but we were only doin’ what the doctor said. He said you needed to rest and that we should go along with it, so that’s all we did. Fuck, I can’t believe I’m gonna even say this, but after findin’ out about you and Muffler . . . I think you two are good together. Don’t know how I never saw it back in the day, but you two are meant to be, just like G and I. I know it, Beretta. I know how happy you’ve been the last few weeks, and I want you to be that happy every day for the rest of your life.”
“You’re fucking with me right now, right? I wasliedto, Dante,” I sneer, calling him by his birth name. I inhale for a few moments before I continue speaking. “I don’t want to be with someone who would so easily lie to me, and you can’t blame me for that.”
“The doctor told us to go along with it. He was only doing what we all thought we should—what was right.”
I scoff, shake my head, and walk away from Hoodrat, heading straight for the alley. Luckily for me, one of the garage bays is open.
As soon as I hit the sidewalk, a familiar shooting pain hits me in my side. It knocks me down to my knees, and trying to breathe is impossible. The pain radiates from my side to the middle of my back, and it takes everything in me to catch my breath.
I end up screaming out in pain because the pain doesn’t stop. It’s all-consuming.
All of a sudden, I’m being dragged by my arms backward, and I’m trying to hold back my tears, but they come out effortlessly. I glance up and see Mug on one side of me and my brother on the other side.
The next thing I know, the door to the garage is thrown open, and Muffler’s running toward me as fast as he can. He drops down on the ground beside me and takes my hand in his own. “I know it’s gotta be hard, but keep breathin’ for me, all right?”
I can’t believe the audacity he has right now. I rip my hand away from his and glare at him with all my might. “Leave me alone, Muffler. You’ve done enough.” Pain’s obvious through my tone, but it isn’t just because of my physical pain. It’s because of my emotional pain as well.
“You’re bleedin’ pretty heavy, sweetheart. I’m sorry for doin’ this, but I gotta,” Mug tells me and grabs a clean rag from the garage, then presses down on where I was shot. I scream out in pure agony, and my brother now grabs my hand. I squeeze as hard as I can, and over the next few minutes, I don’t know what the hell is going on.
Out of nowhere, two people in blue uniforms come up to me while red and white lights flash across my vision. One has a medical bag, while the other’s bringing a gurney over to me. Mug and my brother help me onto the gurney while the EMTs assess the damage. I’m in so much pain that I can’t answer their questions, and every time they speak, it sounds muffled to me.
They pull me up into the back of their ambulance and secure the gurney, then one runs to the front. The one in the back is getting an IV started and is speaking, but I can hardly hear her. Eventually, I’m brought to the hospital, and they take me right into the emergency room. I think my adrenaline is starting to drop, and hearing becomes easier. The nurse taking my blood pressure tells me it’s a bit elevated, but I’m sure it would be since I was just shot.
She ends up going to the doctor after I’m adamant about my pain level, and they give me something. I don’t know how long I spend in this trauma room, but the nurses and doctors turn me over, assess the wound, and order a CT. In a matter of minutes, my gurney’s being moved down to radiology, and I’m injected with a contrast that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I’m instructed to remain very still for the CT, so I do my best and pray they can find some sort of answer once they’re done.
Once the CT scan is done, I’m brought to a room where they tell me the bullet’s still in my body and that I need to get to surgery as soon as possible to remove it.
All I wanted was to walk out of the clubhouse and blow off some steam, but instead, I got shot.
I wonder when my luck will change. If it ever will in the first place.