14. Heidi

My side feels as if it is on fire. Trick said it’s only a flesh wound, but I’m pretty sure he is lying to me. A flesh wound wouldn’t hurt this much, would it?

The white-hot pain spreading through my side is insistent as the car rushes through the traffic towards the Ancoats region of Manchester. Tall, red brick buildings—former mills left over from the industrial days of the city—rise into the skyline, familiar and comforting. Trick sits in the back with me, his arms wrapped around my shoulders, his lips pressed into my hair, as if he is scared to let go of me. I cling to him with as much desperation. I don’t want to let go of him, either.

He trusts the Fraser brothers, but I know very little about them other than the fact one is married to the sister of our VP in London and that Lucas’s wife is also Desmond’s daughter.

I watch them both warily, trying to concentrate as they make small talk from the front seat of the car, but all I can focus on is the fact that we could have died. Who would have taken care of Sophia then?

As the clubhouse comes into view, I’m surprised by how relieved I am. Here, we will be safe. No matter what sins Trick has committed in the past, his brothers will have his back, and in turn, Sophia’s. That is all I care about.

When the car jolts to a stop, Trick tightens his arm around me, squeezing my uninjured side, and his presence anchors me, preventing the hysteria I would be experiencing otherwise.

“You okay?” he asks me in a low voice.

“I’m really hoping the doctor has some top-shelf painkillers.”

Another squeeze as he presses his lips into my hair is the only response I get before the door opens on my side of the car and Howler ducks down. He’s holding his helmet, so he must’ve ridden from somewhere. Was he trailing us? I didn’t notice, but I hadn’t lifted my head from Trick’s shoulder the entire journey.

“Doc is inside waiting,” Howler says, not to me but to Trick.

“Good” is all he responds before Howler is reaching for me.

“I got her,” Trick says, his voice firm enough that it raises Howler’s brows, but he doesn’t argue as he steps aside.

Trick kisses my hair again. “It’s gonna be okay,” he tells me before he climbs out.

Gently, he helps me out of the car and then I’m swept into his arms bridal-style. Dizziness makes it hard to keep my eyes open, and I don’t try to until I’m lowered onto a bed in one of the side rooms.

The lights overhead are bright, making me squint, and lying this flat makes my head spin.

A man’s face looms over me, and I have no idea who he is, but I know Trick wouldn’t let someone touch me if they were going to hurt me.

“It’s Heidi, right?” I nod. “I’m Matthew. I’m a doctor. I’m going to have a look at what we’re dealing with and then I’ll get you cleaned up.”

I narrow my eyes on him. “You are a real doctor, aren’t you?”

His lips quirk into an amused smile. “As opposed to…?”

“I mean, you treat humans usually, right? You’re not a vet or something weird.”

His gaze lifts to meet Trick’s. “Uh… nothing weird, I promise.”

“He’s good, Heidi. Let him treat you.”

Trick’s assurance and the squeeze of my hand between his strong fingers is enough to soothe my concerns—for now, at least.

His attention shifts towards the door, and he lifts my hand, kissing my knuckles before he says, “I’ll be close by if you need me.”

I roll my head to the side, the mattress beneath me soft as I watch him cross the room, his entire stance radiating anger as he approaches Blackjack and Howler waiting by the door.

“Is this your first time?” the doc asks.

I frown, rolling my head back to him. “First time?”

“Getting shot.”

His eyes hold a hint of mischievousness that has mine narrowing. “This might be all in a day’s work for you, but I make it a habit to avoid near-death situations.”

The doc grins as he lifts my sweater and gently pulls my grip off Trick’s balled-up T-shirt. I wince, focusing on the ceiling overhead as I breathe through the throbbing pain in my side.

“Ah, it’s not too bad,” the doc says, sounding far too happy about it.

“Easy for you to say,” I mutter.

“I’m going to numb the area and then put in some stitches to close the wound. You’ll have a nasty scar, but you got lucky.”

I don’t feel lucky, although he is right. A few inches over and this might have had a very different ending.

A sharp pricking sensation close to my wound site has a strangled cry of pain escaping my mouth. I see stars for a moment, dizzying waves occluding my vision momentarily. Instinctively, I lash out, trying to protect myself from more suffering, and I accidentally catch the doc, who stumbles back, hitting the cabinets behind him.

Shit, I didn’t mean to hurt him. I mumble an apology as Trick comes to my side, his fingers interlacing around mine.

The doc straightens his shirt. “Sorry. There’s no easy way to numb the area without hurting, but that’s the worst part done.”

“I don’t believe you,” I fire back. Nausea threatens to make this entire situation worse, so I choke it down.

“Come on, babe. You can do this. I know it hurts, but you’re fucking strong.”

Trick climbs onto the bed behind me, sitting with his legs on either side of the mattress, and pulls me against his chest. His thick, inked arms wrap around me as he notches my head under his chin.

It’s not the ideal position, considering I’m sitting rather than lying flat, but the doctor doesn’t seem to mind, so I sag into Trick’s hold.

I focus on the rise and fall of Trick’s chest behind me, and I listen to his soothing tone as he speaks into my ear, assuring me every step of the way that I can do this. I don’t care if everyone thinks I’m some weak bitch, all I care about is the man behind me, giving me everything I need.

I don’t know how much time passes, but the doc eventually straightens and pulls his gloves off, tossing them on the tray at the side of the bed.

“All done.”

“How’s it look?” Trick asks the question I probably should have asked, but I’m getting hazy and a little light-headed.

“Good. It’ll heal no problem. I’ll need to see her in a couple days to check the stitches. If it shows any sign of infection, call me, but I’ll give her antibiotics in case.”

“I’m so tired,” I mumble, my tongue feeling too big for my mouth.

“I gave you a shot of morphine,” the doc says.

“Where’d you steal that from?” I close my eyes.

The doctor laughs, but he doesn’t answer. I have stolen morphine in my blood stream…

And it feels good.

My eyes get heavier, everything around me less sharp. “Sleep, babe,” Trick whispers into my ear, and I let my body sink into the pull of unconsciousness, knowing I’m safe as long as Trick is with me.

When I wake, the quiet greets me. Slowly, I open my eyes, taking in the off-white walls and old furniture. The room, which had been full of people before I slept, is now empty other than the large, tattooed figure stuffed into an armchair at the side of the bed.

Trick’s eyes are closed, and lying against his chest is Sophia, who is also out for the count.

My heart squeezes as I take them in. They are the two most important people in my life, and the thought of anything happening to either of them fills me with dread.

I am terrified of them getting hurt, and today proved to me just how dangerous things are. We had to run for our lives.

What happened in the cemetery feels like a fever dream. If it wasn’t for the ache in my side, I’d think it was. I glance down at the patch of gauze wrapped around my hip and taped into place and I can feel the tightness of my skin beneath it.

Yeah, definitely real.

Slowly, I try to sit, but the movement sends white-hot pain through me that almost blinds me. I can’t stop the cry that forces its way through my lips, and my hand presses against my side, trying to ease it.

“Don’t move around,” Trick says, his voice drowsy as he comes awake. “You’ll tear your stitches.”

He stands and places Sophia in a small travel cot, careful not to wake her. His fingers slip into mine, as if he needs to touch me.

“You need more painkillers?” There is concern in his voice when he asks this. “The doc left you some.”

He steps away, probably to get the medication, but I tighten my fingers around his, holding him in place. I don’t want him to go. I don’t want to be alone in this room, hurt and unable to protect myself.

“Don’t leave me,” I say, not caring if I sound pathetic.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assures me, which helps to lift some of the anxiety I’m feeling.

“Is Sophia okay?”

“She’s fine. Howler put the club on lockdown the minute we were attacked. He brought Pia and the baby here just in case Richardson targets the house, and then he met us on the road.”

A shiver of fear runs through me. I never even considered that might be a possibility. “They wouldn’t hurt a baby.”

Trick glances over at his sleeping daughter. He is a man who will defend his child until his last breath. “Who knows? I don’t think they have much of a moral compass and I’m not taking that risk.”

“Was anyone else hurt?”

He shakes his head. “They only targeted us.”

I glance up, meeting his eyes, unsure of the feelings and emotions swirling inside me. I’m both scared and relieved that we made it out in one piece.

“This is never going to end, is it?”

He squeezes my thighs. “It will. There isn’t a single brother in this club who isn’t going to fight to make it safe for us all.”

I want to ask more, but the more pressing issue is my bladder needs to empty. “I need to get up. I need to pee.”

He holds his hands out to me, and I let him pull me up. I get dizzy for a second, and he grips me tightly as I wait for it to pass.

“You okay?” he asks.

“I’m light-headed.”

Neither of us moves, waiting for my brain to unscramble enough that I can open my eyes. When I do, he is peering down at me with such concern that it clogs my throat.

“Do you need to sit again?”

I shake my head. “Just help me to the bathroom.”

Shuffling across the floor, I cling to him like he’s a life raft tossed into a freezing ocean.

“I feel weak.” I hate to admit that, but he can see it anyway.

“It’s the shock and the morphine coming out of your system.”

I let him help me to the bathroom. He doesn’t seem as if he wants to leave me alone, but he steps out the room with a worried “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

I grit my teeth as I lift the T-shirt and push down my underwear. The pain isn’t blinding, but it’s also not pleasant. I take my time, lowering myself onto the toilet and emptying my bladder. By the time I’ve washed my hands and shuffled to the door, all I want to do is lie back down.

Trick comes up from where he was leaning against the wall next to the door, instantly guiding me back to the bed. The way he’s taking care of me makes me want to cry.

“Thanks,” I say as he lowers me onto the mattress.

“You don’t need to thank me for helping you. I want to.”

His phone buzzes, and he reaches into his pocket to pull it out. I watch the irritation ripple across his face before he puts it away.

“Problem?”

“Howler needs me for something, but I’m not leaving you.”

That declaration adds to the warmth in my chest. “Go. I’m probably just going to sleep anyway. Sophia and I will have a nap together.”

He looks torn, but I give him a shove towards the door. “Seriously, go. The club needs you.”

“If you need me for anything, just call or message.”

“I’ll be fine.” He makes his way to the door, still internally arguing with himself. “Trick?”

He stops, turning back to me. “Yeah?”

“I know the day ended on a shitty note, but everything before that was amazing. Thank you.”

His gaze softens and a small smile reaches his lips before he disappears through the door.