As he knelt down, Emilio’s hand moved, and he saw more blood pooling, which meant his injury was absolutely not from the crash. “Oh fuck! You were shot.”
Emilio looked up, and Jude’s breath caught in his throat when he saw his left eye was pinched shut, and a massive scrape was dripping blood from his forehead to his chin. “Got the fucker in the chest before he took off,” he said, his voice raspy and quiet. “It’ll be a miracle if he survives it.”
“And you? Are you going to…” But before he could get the rest of his words out, Emilio’s eye rolled up, and he hit the ground.
The chaos of what came after made Jude feel like he was standing outside of his body, watching the events unfold.
With shaking fingers, he managed to call for emergency services, and he refused to answer the paramedic’s questions about who shot Emilio and why as they were both bustled into the back of an ambulance and carted off to the hospital. On the drive, he shot a quick text to his brother, then he sat back and waited as they whisked Emilio away, and Jude was taken into triage to have his injuries assessed.
He noticed the looks he was getting from the nursing staff, but he appreciated that they didn’t ask him anything beyond his pain level and if he’d taken anything that night. He declined an x-ray since the only thing he felt was exhausted from his adrenaline crash, and he let the nurse dress his scrapes before sending him out into the lobby.
He wasn’t about to leave without knowing what the hell was happening with Emilio, but he didn’t think he was going to get answers. Hell, he was half-expecting the police to show up at any second. But the minutes ticked into an hour, and there was nothing more than silence—including his phone. His text to Eliah had gone unread, as far as he could tell, and when he tried to call, it went straight to his voicemail.
It was damn-near two when his phone began to ring, and when he saw the unfamiliar number, he knew it was going to be one of the bikers. He wasn’t sure if it was relief or fear that coursed through his veins, but his fingers shook as he answered. “Yes?”
“My name is Forge,” the man said. “I’m on my way to the hospital right now, but I need you to tell me exactly what happened. Smokey said some shit went down.”
Jude swallowed thickly, and then he told the man everything. “Before he passed out,” Jude finished, “he said he wasn’t sure the man he shot was going to make it. I haven’t heard anyone coming in, but I’m worried about the police…”
“We have that taken care of right now,” Forge said, and Jude swore he heard a car door slam. “Getting him out of there is gonna be the biggest pain in the ass, but you shouldn’t have any visits from the cops while you wait.”
Jude squeezed his eyes shut. “Alright.”
“What about you? Are you hurt?” Forge asked, and Jude startled because he hadn’t expected any of them to actually care.
“Bruised a bit. I’ll heal.” And he’d break down later. But he could hold it together until someone came to pick them up, and he was able to see for certain that Eliah was alright, and that these men had a plan to put an end to this.
Though he wondered if there truly was an end. Emilio hadn’t been shy about how rough their life was—and as thrilling as it might have sounded then, now he was in an emergency room lobby waiting to see if the man was going to survive his gunshot wound.
“Do you want me to ring you when he’s out?” Jude asked softly.
Forge sighed. “Nah. I’ll call when I’m in the parking lot.”
The silence on the other end told Jude the man had hung up, and he appreciated there were no awkward goodbyes. He glanced up at the clock and saw he’d been there for nearly two hours, and there were still no updates. His clothes had finally started to dry, and it was only the heater in the waiting room that kept him from shivering. He was filthy, he was stained with Emilio’s blood, and he was fairly certain that by morning, he wouldn’t be able to walk properly.
But he was alive, and with any luck, Emilio would be too.
Jude nearly shot out of his skin when