the hospital with Bubbles. You going to protect her?”
He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes as he nodded. “Yeah. Don’t want her alone with that lying cunt.”
“Doubt she’s capable of lying at the minute,” I mumbled. Still, it was surreal seeing the woman I knew cared for me—or as much as she was capable of caring for any man—crumpled on the ground like a newspaper someone had tossed out.
I didn’t feel much, but I hoped she was okay. She might be a shitty human being, but fuck, we were all capable of change, weren’t we?
Maybe having a kid would make her a decent person… I doubted it, but hell, she couldn’t be much worse than the conniving, lying, vindictive piece of shit she was now, so, the only way was up, right?
Keys got to his feet and loped over to Ama’s side without another word, and I followed too. Giving Ama a kiss when Ink had let her up for air, and telling her to, “Be good.”
“You both said that. What mischief do you think I can get up to in a clinic?” she mumbled, making me tap her ass as she wandered over to Keys’ side.
When the EMTs argued with Keys over both him and Ama sitting in the back, Keys just stood his ground, letting Wolfe explain shit for him.
The EMTs weren’t happy, but they were smiling when Wolfe passed them some Ben Franklins. Within five minutes, Bubbles, Ama, and Keys were on their way, and I knew we had church.
I’d be glad when Keys wasn’t a prospect, just so I didn’t have to keep shit from him. I knew, living the way we were, was going to make that even harder than it would normally be.
Keeping Ama in the dark was one thing, but Keys as well? It just smacked of shit when I knew he was a brother to everyone here, and that it was only a matter of time before he was patched in.
With the ambulance in the distance now, I turned away from the gates to Hell, and stared up at the clubhouse. I knew what it was going to be like inside. I’d been around for another raid a few years back. They tore everything apart. Wrecked all the pillows, knifed the mattresses and sofa cushions in the hunt for whatever shit they were looking for.
Considering we’d started buying shit last week to replace the other raid?
We were out of pocket and with way too much stuffing every-fucking-where.
“You okay?”
I cut Ink a look. “Been better. You?”
“I behaved.”
That meant he hadn’t been beaten. I pointed to my eye. “Might have a bruise in the morning. Got slapped for being too slow in hugging the floor.”
“Dicks,” Ink grunted. “Ama’s okay.”
“I saw.” I rubbed my chin. “You think she wouldn’t be?”
He winced. “Maybe.”
Slapping him on the back, I told him, “She’s stronger than you think.”
“I know. I’m learning.” He blew out a breath. “Let’s get this shit on the road. Fucking asshats will have made another goddamn mess.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
Ink went to rejoin the council, while I left to go and help with the cleanup, knowing I’d get a text when it was time for church.
As I waded through the mess the cops had made—like destroying perfectly good leather sofas just for shits and giggles when they had to know we wouldn’t be dumb enough to hide our gear there—I realized how fucking lucky Keys was to be in the hospital with Ama. I’d have taken guard duty again over this crap.
When, forty minutes later, we got the text, we dropped everything—our overflowing black bags—and headed down to the basement.
With its concrete floors and unpainted walls, there was no decoration in here except for the Rebels’ logo on the wall behind the council table. The skeleton smoking a cigarette had been spray-painted there a long while ago by a brother who was currently serving life in Rikers, but it summed up what this room was—business only.
With over two hundred chairs in here, all of them filled, it was crowded, but I could still see the council table, which sat catty-corner to the room. Wheels, Ink, Wolfe, Lucie, Axe, Flame, and Dagger were all there, most of them with serious expressions lining their faces. Well, except for Flame—his, as usual, was just blank.
Wolfe wasn’t at his usual position at the head of the table. Instead, he’d pressed his ass to the side of the table, had his legs crossed at the ankles, and his