Chapter Thirty-Two

Priest

"Shaw, it's time to wake up, honey."

"Five more minutes, Mom. Please."

"I'm sorry, baby, but I need you to get up now. Your wife needs you."

"Phoebe?" I moaned as the pounding in my head curdled my stomach. Trying to roll over, I gasped as pain seared my side. Holding still, I tried to breathe through the pain.

Slowly opening my eyes, I found myself laying on the cold concrete.

Nothing looked familiar.

Where was I?

Everything hurt.

Was I injured?

Laying there, memories of me dancing, my brothers watching, my wife smiling filtered into my head.

Did I dream it all?

An angry voice echoed off the walls all around me.

Slowly, trying to push myself up, I gasped, clutching my side, only to find a wet stickiness. Pulling my hand away, I saw it coated with something when a familiar smell reached my nose.

I was bleeding.

Holding tight to my side, I tried to sit up again, when I damn nearly cried out ‘cause my left leg refused to move. Taking a look around, I noticed my leg twisted at an odd angle and a bone stuck out of my pant leg. Lifting my head, I looked around and took everything in as memories of the night came rushing back.

I had just secured Phoebe in my truck when I remembered I'd forgotten to lock the back door. Telling her I wouldn't be long, I re-entered the building, heading straight for the back, when someone hit me from behind, knocking me to the ground.

Gasping for air, I tried to stem the bile threatening to come up, when I heard, "You stupid motherfucker! I told you that you would be the death of her, and I was right. All you had to do was walk the fuck away, but you couldn't do it. Could you? Now, what happens next is on you."

In the next instant, I felt a searing pain in my right side when something sharp pierced my skin, robbing me of the very air in my lungs. Collapsing on the floor, I tried to breathe through the pain when something heavy slammed down against my leg, causing me to scream out as a pain I'd never imagined possible wracked my body.

Laying there on the ground, I heard Phoebe scream and as hard as I tried, I couldn't get my body to cooperate. The more I moved, the more intense the pain became.

"Shit," I heard Frank curse when he appeared in my line of vision as he reached for his cellphone. "It's bad, King. We gotta get him to the hospital fast. He's losing too much blood."

"Phoebe," I whispered.

"We will find her, brother," I heard King say as a loud commotion came from the main room.

King bolted, leaving me with Frank.

"Hang on, brother. Help is coming."

Closing my eyes, the last word I spoke before darkness took me was, "Phoebe."

"Just give it to me straight, Lidi," I said, looking at the woman while I laid in bed, my left leg up in traction. I'd been in this damn bed for three weeks now and I wanted to go home. The only thing holding up my release was my damn leg.

"As you know, you were brought in with a compound fracture. That's not including the knife wound to your gut, which is healing beautifully. However, when that asshole stomped on your leg, he snapped your femur in half. While we were able to reset the leg, it's going to take some time for it to heal, Priest. This break isn't like others. The femur is the thickest bone in the human body for a reason. It holds a lot of weight. It's going to take time and lots of therapy. You need to be patient."

"That's not what I asked," I snapped. "Will I be able to dance with my wife again?"

Lidi sighed. "Priest, you know I don't sugarcoat anything. It was a nasty break, but given time and therapy, I don't see why you shouldn't regain full movement. As for dancing, only time will tell."

"What can he do in the meantime?" my wife asked, sitting next to me, holding my hand. She still bore a fading black eye from that motherfucker, but thanks to her brother and the others, Jake Quincy would never hurt another woman again.

From what King told me, the second Cameron sounded the alarm, Scribe wasted no time rushing back to Phoebe's future dance studio. The second he entered the building, my brother didn't think twice before pulling that fucker off my wife. He slit the motherfucker's throat, then gutted him from hip to sternum. It took Gunner, Banks, and Hawk to stop Scribe from ripping that fucker apart.

But I didn't care.

As far as I was concerned, the bastard got what he deserved, because three days after surgery to fix my leg, I woke to find my old FBI boss, along with King and Scribe, in my room. It seemed the information Sypher collected on Jake Quincy didn't sit well with the kid, so he'd dug a little deeper, only to find that Quincy wasn't just interested in my wife. He was obsessed with her. Had been for years, and when the FBI searched his home back in New York, they found evidence that linked him to Phoebe's attack the night we lost our son.

It seemed that my former friend wanted my wife no matter what and was willing to do anything to get her, even attack her as she walked to her car that horrible night.

"He just needs to take it easy and stay off that leg until the break heals."

"And how long will that take?" I asked.

"At least eight to twelve weeks," Lidi stated then added, "Then we can reevaluate and schedule you for therapy."

"When can I take him home?" my woman asked.

Lidi smiled, holding up a clipboard.

"That's why I'm here. I'm releasing him into your care. Out of all the brothers, I gotta say, Priest, you are the worst. Got love for you, but you are driving everyone here nuts. Poor Jess was threatening to smother you with a pillow. Now, I want to be clear. Just because I'm releasing you today doesn't mean you can go back to doing whatever you do. You are to stay off that leg. I want it elevated at all times. I am sending you home with a wheelchair, Priest. Use it! I mean it. I see you hobbling around on crutches, I will sedate you, then handcuff you to a bed, and you know I know how to use them." The evil woman smirked.

Yeah. The entire club knew how good she was with handcuffs.

None more so than Frank.

After signing the papers, I was waiting for Jessica to bring me my wheelchair when Gunner and Sarah walked into the room.

"Ride's here!" Gunner grinned happily, and I groaned.

Looking at my wife, I whispered, "Maybe we should just stay here. Neither one of them can drive worth a shit."

"I heard that, you fucker," Gunner growled, sitting in a chair, pulling Sarah onto his lap. "So, you should know that things have changed at the clubhouse. We're no longer a biker club. All the brothers are auditioning for the Von Trap family dancers and the women are in control."

"You're a dick." I chuckled, throwing my pillow at him.

Catching it before it hit him and Sarah, he laughed, throwing it back at me. "No, seriously though, we got everything set up for you at home. King had us clear out the rec room until you are back on your feet. Since it's the only room big enough for you and your wheelchair, that's where you will be staying."

"How's everything else?" I asked, genuinely concerned.

"Well, Bailey is on the warpath. She's three days past her due date. She's determined to really break King this time, if you catch my drift," Gunner winked and I laughed out loud, knowing exactly what Gunner was talking about. I remembered finding King cowering in his office just after he claimed Bailey, hiding from his woman and her overzealous appetite for riding King into the mattress. If my brother knew what was good for him, he better take a fucking blue pill, man the fuck up, and do whatever he needed to do to put his wife in labor fast.

"Little Milo is getting bigger by the day. Sky and Pyro are enamored with my nephew. Kid's looking more and more like his favorite uncle every day."

"Sweet." I smirked. "So, he looks like me, then."

Gunner flipped me the one-finger bird.

"Henley, Lidi and Sugar are doing fine. Well, you saw Lidi, so you know that. Let's see. The Malpas family flew off on their brooms last week for uncharted territories. Scribe has been preening like a pretty peacock and threatening anyone who will listen that under no circumstances will anyone call his family for anything. Oh, Fiona and Granny are going on vacation in a few days. Granny is taking Fiona on an Alaskan Cruise. They will be gone for two weeks. Benny and Sean are adjusting to the club life like fish to water. Enigma has taken to bringing Sean with him wherever he goes, like Frank does with Charlie."

"And Cameron?"

Gunner frowned. "Yeah, well... he's another story."

"Why? What's going on with Cameron?"

When no one responded, I looked at my wife. "Phoebe?"

"He's not been the same since the night he found us, Shaw. He's quieter."

"You mean he's been behaving," Sarah muttered, shaking her head.

"And that's a bad thing?" I asked.

Sarah nodded. "Yes, it's wrong. He's not himself. What he saw. It really shook him. Since then, he hasn't stepped one foot out of line. He's even replying to everyone, saying shit like, ‘yes, sir' or ‘yes, ma'am' . I'm telling you, it isn't right. I haven't heard him curse in weeks."

"We know, babydoll," Gunner replied, hugging his wife. "We are all keeping an eye on him."

"He's blaming himself, isn't he?" I said, looking at Gunner.

"Yeah." My brother sighed. "Chase told us it was bad the first few nights after everything happened. Kid would wake up screaming bloody murder. He only stopped when Skylar suggested they sleep at the clubhouse. Only when she woke the next morning, Cameron wasn't in his room. He was in yours."

Sarah nodded. "Everyone's been trying to talk to him, but he won't say shit. He just clams up. Even Frank and Scribe can't get him to talk. He just sits in the clubhouse with Bagel, reading books."

"Damn," I whispered, just as Jessica walked in, wheeling my wheelchair in front of her.

It was time to go home.