21. Hellena

21

HELLENA

I 've got the full on shakes, and not just because of the gun in my face.

Too much stress. Too much adrenaline.

Shock has set in, dulling my wits.

None of it matters as I try to whisper back to Gavin, hoping he's lucid enough to get us through. No such luck.

The tank with the shaved head clears his throat, waving the barrel six inches from my head. "I said TURN AROUND AND LEAVE."

After a deep breath, I can finally move my head enough to look at him. It sets off a wild sort of anger inside me, that this guy is holding me up when a man I care about is dying. Something inside me snaps.

"I need to get in. Now. Eraser's orders."

The guy flinches visibly. "Who the fuck are you?"

"I'm the one bringing him to meet with your boss," I bluff. I nod back into the car, daring that he won't take a peak. "It's hush-hush."

My hands are gripping the steering wheel so hard I can feel my knuckles creaking. Tank notices, eyeing me more closely, noting the blood, the gore on my arms and clothes. I probably look like a freaking psychopath.

Without lowering his gun, he nods to his partner, jerking his head for the other guy to take a look. I wait for the side door to open, then the immediate, "Oh, shit! Eraser's fucked up bad…"

"He needs help. Now." I'm not holding back anymore. "Call it in. Or shoot me when I ram this gate. Your call, big guy."

Tank huffs once at my demand, stepping back to mutter something into the handheld radio. After a hiss and a scratch of a voice, he nods once, signaling for the gate to open. "Go straight in. Main road goes to the clubhouse. No detours."

Like I would try to go anywhere but where I can get help for Gavin.

Still, I'm in.

If I weren't already so shaken up, I might find the ability to be surprised. It takes every bit of tattered concentration to keep driving, stay on the road that leads back into the woods. By the time I see lights up ahead, my field of vision is narrowing to a pinpoint.

I barely notice the bikes parked outside, the insignia painted on the side of the building. I slam the shifter into park and stumble out of the van, ignoring the quivering in my legs. The sliding door puts up a fight, but I get it open.

"G–Gavin." I clutch his face, rubbing his cheeks. He's still breathing. "Hey! Gimme a hand!"

I shout toward the clubhouse, the huge, five-bay garage. Two of the doors are rolled up, light spilling into the blue-gray of dawn and outlining a couple of bikers leaning against the building.

They startle up, looking off balance.

"The fuck?" one of them slurs, coming down to see what the commotion is, drawing up short when he sees who I'm trying to wake up.

"Take him inside. Now!" I order them, gambling that they're too drunk to ask questions.

It works, and they give each other a look before shuffling around me to ease Gavin out of the van. "Easy!"

Even drunk, both men are sure-footed and strong as hell.

I follow them inside, clearing the first surface I can find, a big wooden table. Every bottle and cup goes straight off into the big trashcan or on the floor.

Once Gav is laid, out I stop, looking around, unsure of what to do next. And I notice what this place is. It's a fucking Bike Club, like straight up Sons of Whatever.

And the few lucid gazes in the place are glaring at me like I'm intruding. Because I am.

An older black man storms toward me, buzz cut, neat, graying beard trimmed to a point at his chin. He looks like he's in his sixties but also looks like he could bench press the van out front.

"Who are you?" It's not really aggressive. It's just an order. Every eye flips to him. "I asked you a question little girl. I won't ask again."

Several bikers bristle, hands going to their sides.

"It doesn't matter who I am. What matters is that." I point back at Gavin. " He needs a doctor. Now."

The recognition in the leader's eyes is followed by a spark of anger. "Why the fuck would you bring him here?"

"He told me to. And it's not like I could take him to a hospital!" My voice tightens, shooting up to a shrill yell. I'm losing it.

"Dammit. The whole point of hiring a cleaner…" His voice trails off, thinking.

I turn back toward Gavin, checking his pulse, the dressing on his wounds.

"Hey, I'm not done with you!"

"Well, I'm done with you if you won't help. He's bottoming out!" I scream it at him, completely out of my mind. Gavin's dying and there's nothing I can do.

"Great! Just what I wanted. A dead body at my compound."

"There's a few more in the truck, too!"

"You stupid… were you followed? Are the cops on their way here?" Another voice shouts from my left, signaling every body in the building to draw their guns, aiming them right at me.

"No!"

"I should let them kill the both of you and be done with it," the president growls, reaching for his gun.

I'm around the table before I know what I'm doing, right up in his face. "You're not going to do a damn thing! Get him a doctor!"

He's taken aback, cocking his head in shock at my outburst.

"You owe him!"

"I don't owe anyone shit."

"Then he's too valuable for you to let die. Who's gonna clean up your messes from now on? Especially when your thugs didn't finish the fucking job!"

His eyes narrow at the last statement.

"What's she talking about?" he asks to no one in particular. "Gabe? Red?"

The two drunks who helped me freeze.

"One of the bodies wasn't dead. Shot him twice before he took the guy's head off."

A moment of silence settles over the crowd gathering around us.

It's broken by a piercing shout from the hallway. "Grandpa, what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

The old man visibly flinches, backing off enough to look behind him.

Of all the people I expected to see tonight, Ora Clive was not on the list.

"Get that gun out of my friend's face this instant! And why is she covered in blood? Why is everybody standing around? Has anyone gone to get Doc?" Her tirade rushes in like a hurricane, sending the entire audience to my confrontation into motion, putting away guns, a few running for cover.

It's like a bomb went off.

The president is scowling, but he complies, continuously opening his mouth to protest, never getting a word out in the midst of the onslaught of Ora's fit. I can't help but smile, even despite my worry for Gavin.

"Ora! Go back—" he finally shouts as she shoots past him.

She's on me in a second, checking me from head to toe for injuries.

"Not mine," is all I manage through the rambling fuss.

"Doc's on his way, he'll get your man-toy put back together. Where have you been? I texted you yesterday but I figured you wouldn't be available for lunch. What about Tuesday? I have this little bar I wanted to check out that popped up over in…"

"Ora Lynn!" the president bellows over the din, silencing everyone in the vicinity. "Who is this young lady?"

"Grandpa, this is Hell. She's awesome. And apparently, she lives with the mother-fucking Eraser. I didn't put those pieces together before. Hell, this is my overbearing grandfather, Xavier Clive. The mooks around here call him X, or Clive."

"H–Hellena. Nice to meet you." I'm numb.

He offers me a big, rough hand, clearly annoyed to have to exchange pleasantries. "I'd say it's a pleasure, but…"

"But there's a burly, dangerous killer bleeding out on our table. How'd that happen, exactly?" Ora barrels on.

"That's what I intend to find out. In the meantime, I'm going to decide what to do with them. Stay with her, " X rumbles.

"Whoa. You know as well as I do that we need him, Granddaddy. Especially with everything—" X makes a hand jerking motion across his throat, widening his eyes for her to stop talking in front of non-club members.

Ora flat out snarls at him. "Arg. You make me nuts. We can't afford to lose that man, not to mention that it's just the right thing to do."

"Hmm. You're right. I got fired up. Sorry."

I can barely believe my ears, hearing the way he apologizes, genuine, subdued.

"Make sure Doc fixes him up. Hellena, welcome to the Block. Wish it were under better circumstances…" the old president mutters as he stomps off, nodding at another biker as he trots in, looking worried. "Dirk."

"Sir?" the new guy asks, watching the president rush out, chasing down the culprits. For some reason, he strikes me as odd, the tall guy with the chops and a full mustache. His bandana's well worn, just like his cut and everything else about him. Good-looking, all things considered.

I must be out of my mind for lingering on him.

For checking him out. It's been a rough day.

"Hey. Earth to Hell?" Ora tugs at my arm.

Exhaustion has me spacing out, falling into a trance on my feet. I blink, and there's a middle-aged biker standing over Gavin. I blink again, and he's got an I.V. hooked up to him, washing away streaks of blood to assess the damage. "Clean shot. That's good. Missed organs or he'd be gone."

The words aren't really making sense, but it sounds like a good thing, from the expression of the salt- and pepper-haired man poking and prodding my friend.

More than friend.

He's…

"One tough motherfucker." Another woman's voice echoes through my skull. She's assisting the doctor, setting out his tools, sending bikers to fetch materials, water. When did she get here?

"Agreed. Ora, your friend is in shock."

"I can see that, Doc." They're talking about me like I'm not here.

"I'm, fine. Just a little shaken up."

"Bullshit, Hell. You look like you got dragged through a battlefield! No offense."

At that, the doctor pins me with a stare. "The site. Where you found him…?"

"I finished the job for him. He walked me through it. Bodies are still in the van."

"Noted. No one tells Xavier anything about that for now. I'll see that they're disposed of properly." He's stern, but kind. "You've been through the wringer tonight, young lady. Go get cleaned up. Mr. Rorshak is stabilized, but I need to finish cleaning and suturing the wounds to make sure he doesn't get an infection."

The sandy-haired lady at his side gives me a grin, a motherly squint to her eyes. "Ora, get her fed and showered in the spare. Then you put her to bed, you hear?"

"I know what the hell I'm doing!" Ora declares, pulling me along in her wake. "Water. Food. Shower. Bed. And maybe I'll even snuggle up with you to keep you warm!"

I try to protest, but they're all talking too fast. I need to stay with Gavin…

It's pointless trying to argue with Ora Clive, or anyone else, in my state. My last clear memory before hot water and a cozy bed is Ora rubbing my head, lying curled up next to me.

Late afternoon sun spills through the blinds when my eyes crack open, resisting the pull back to consciousness. My whole body hurts like I ran a marathon.

It's still dim in the room, and I slide my hand over, feeling the warmth of another body in the bed with me. My fingers brush another hand, but instead of slender, girlish fingers, I find rough calluses.

A sigh of relief slips through my lips as I gaze up to the auburn hair on the pillow, the cut and rugged features of his cheeks, his jawline, and that bold chin.

He's breathing easily, sound asleep.

I'm drawn to him, scooting over to be as close as I can be without disturbing him or his wounds. Here in this dark room, the world outside feels far away. Everything else can wait. I can't resist running my hand over his hair, down his cheek.

"Mmm… Lena?" he whispers.

"Shh. It's me. You're okay. At least, I think you are." They wouldn't have put him in bed with me if he wasn't. "We're at the Block compound."

"You did it. Thank you." His voice is weak, but not strained.

"For what?"

"Oh, you know… saving my life, cleaning up my blood." Good to know almost dying didn't damage his sense of humor.

"Figured I needed to return the favor." My breath catches as he turns his head to look at me, his eyes clear, sorrowful.

"You shouldn't have had to see that. Any of it. I'm sorry I called, that I put you through that."

"I won't lie and say I'm fine. But don't you ever apologize for asking for help. For asking me for anything. I'm… you're…" The words falter. I'm not sure what I want to say, how to say what I feel for him.

"Yours. I'm yours . I always will be." His eyelids droop as he says it, drifting back off.

My heart aches as I lean in to kiss his forehead, holding him as best as I can.

"I'm yours, too." I hope he hears me. I hope he knows how he makes me feel, even if I don't always know how to express it.

Gavin is my rock.

He's my knight.

And I want to be the same to him. His partner, not some damsel for him to save.

The kiss I brush across his lips before I get out of bed is a promise to see him well. To keep moving forward. Our lives may be chaotic, but now, nothing can separate us.

After another meal with a bubbling Ora, regaling me with her most recent exploits and about the fight she had with her grandfather over our staying to recover for a day, I head back into our room. Nothing in the world sounds better than sleep.

Early in the morning, there's a soft knock at the door, Ora's promised wakeup call and our ride. I help the handsome, haggard biker with the bandana from the night before get Gavin up and into the van. He's groggy from painkillers and generally jovial.

"Hey!" I swat his hand away for the fifth time from squeezing my butt. "Cut it out or I'll drop you!"

The compound is quiet, cold. No sign of most of the crew or of any of the revelry from the day before. It sinks into my stomach like a stone, the sense of foreboding.

The Block is on the move today. High alert.

Partially because of me and Gavin.

I let Dirk drive, still feeling the effects of my ordeal and wanting to stay with Gavin in the back. He's out cold again on the gurney. We'll definitely need it to get him into the house.

It's an hour until sunup as we turn down a road I recognize all too well and I feel the tension in the vehicle. Dirk is eyeing me periodically.

"Alright. Out with it."

"Out wit' what?" he drawls.

"The warning. The threats. I know I wasn't an invited guest."

He smirks menacingly, knowingly. "You're smokin' hot and smart."

"You'd better hope the Eraser stays asleep and doesn't hear you," I tease, but there's a real threat to the joke. One I need to feel confident, too.

"Consider it said. You know things you shouldn't. You been somewhere you shouldn't. Don't say shit and we won't have any issues."

"Ora is my friend. I would never sell her out."

"Funny, you puttin' it that way. But see that you stay loyal. You've tangled with the Block. From what I hear, you tangled with the Ghosts, too. Puts a mighty big target on your back."

"Thanks for the warning."

I watch from the doorway as he leaves, walking down the driveway after helping me get Gavin to bed. He's getting into another car, sent to follow us, when it clicks.

The way he moved.

The way he looked back at me over his shoulder.

Tyler. I'm suddenly positive it was him. And kicking myself for not realizing it sooner.

But exactly what was Tell doing there?

It looked like he wasn't new. Like he belonged.

And was it just a coincidence that he showed up right after I did?