We entered the hospital and took the elevator up to Sandman’s floor. Ranger’s face lit up when the nurse who had been assigned to Sandman appeared in the hallway.
“Good morning, Imogen,” he said, smiling widely. “How’s the patient?”
“A bit stubborn and pig-headed. He won’t eat like he’s supposed to. But that nice girlfriend of his is helping him eat now.”
“Girlfriend?” Ranger questioned, then his fists clenched by his sides. “Goddamn it, I’ll kill her.”
Imogen’s back straightened, and she took a step back, quickly retreating before Ranger could get in another word.
He threw open the door. There was a woman sitting beside Sandman, feeding him something from a cup. She looked familiar. I think I saw her around the clubhouse a few times, but usually it was late at night when most of the club was sleeping.
Was this the famous ex I’d heard so much about?
“What the fuck are you doing here, Lindy?” Ranger growled.
Yup, it’s gotta be her.
The girl immediately shot up to her feet, her long blonde hair swaying behind her back.
“I was just helping him eat.”
“Get out!”
“H—Hey, R—Ranger, sh—she’s just he—helping.”
“Helping you relapse. I said get out, Lindy! You’re not wanted here.” He pushed a table nearby and sent it flying across the room. It wasn’t exactly a violent gesture, but it sure got her attention.
She squeaked and quickly fled through the open doorway. Not even bothering to look back or say anything to Sandman.
“Li—Lindy! W—Wait!”
“Let her go, man. The bitch isn’t worth it,” Clash agreed, jumping to Ranger’s defense.
Sandman glared at them both. “F—Fuck off.”
Ranger’s anger subsided. “Dude, we’re just looking out for you. The only reason that bitch is sniffing around is because she probably is hoping you’re gonna die or something, and she can cash in a hefty insurance check.” He shook his head. “She’s a gold digger, buddy. One that is only after your money.”
“We—We’re not m—married.”
Ranger laughed. “And thank fuck for that. Could you imagine marrying that stuck up piece of ass? You could shove a piece of coal up those ass cheeks and produce a diamond with how pent up her prude asshole is.”
Sandman’s fists clenched, but he didn’t correct him. Then his head swiveled to look at me, and a flash of warmth crossed his features.
“Hi,” he said without stuttering.
“Hey, big guy, how you feeling?” A smile moved over my face as Sandman sat up in the bed, looking better than he had in a while. But then he tried to speak again, and my heart sank.
There was a long pause, like he was thinking very hard about what to say, drawing out each word as if he was plucking them from his brain one by one. “Like... d—dog... sh—shit.” His focus returned to the men in the room. “H—Have we found the C—Crows yet?”
Snyder shook his head. “We’re working on it. But right now, things around the club have been getting a bit... sticky.”
Sandman slowly nodded his head. “S—Sabbath?”
“Yeah, he’s gone fucking nutso,” Clash piped in. “It’s only going to get worse if he finds out about... well... you know.” He pointed to me with his finger, then made a circle with his other hand, moving his hand through the hole in the universal “fucking” motion.
Sandman looked like he was in excruciating pain as he nodded his head in response.
“Wh—What can we do?”