Romeo (Dark Knights MC/Blood Fury MC: Crossover)

Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty-Two

That was no goddamn skunk unless the striped bastard knew how to use a fucking tire iron.

He could safely say it wasn’t a fucking squirrel, either.

But it was a pack of animals. He had no idea how many because he was now on the ground unable to get up, unable to see shit since warm liquid was blinding him.

Not tears. Thicker, like blood.

Something hard had knocked his brain loose and his head now pounded in time with his racing heart.

He needed to get up and either fight back… or escape.

Was he going to fucking die behind Dick’s and only a few yards from his own damn door?

As soon as he tried to clear the blood from his eyes and right the tilting, spinning world, something slammed into his gut, dropping him flat to the ground again.

Jesus fuckin’ Christ.

He couldn’t even catch a damn breath when the hits kept coming. One after the other, after the other. Were they all taking a shot at him? Like a fucking pi?ata? The only problem was, if they broke him open, they would not find any damn candy.

He tried to roll into a ball to at least protect his most vulnerable places, but the pain only became even more unbearable when he moved. He probably had broken bones and shit.

Whoever was surrounding him was shouting at him, too, but he couldn’t clear his head enough to figure out what they yelled. Not that he gave a fuck right now since he was too busy trying to stay alive.

If he survived, he’d get answers. One way or another.

A random thought made it through to his fuzzy brain. Did Maddie have the Fury come down to kick his ass?

Was one of them Shade?

Was she that fucking pissed at him? If so, while he deserved her anger, she was taking it to a whole other level.

Women could be damn good at revenge. Sometimes they were more dangerous than men.

A few seconds later he was being dragged across the ground. His arms and legs were useless to fight it. Hell , he couldn’t lift his arms enough to cover his head to avoid the blows.

They were breaking him piece by piece.

He’d never been so goddamn helpless in his life.

The last time he’d been jumped like this was in prison. At the time, he’d been warned by his cellie that it was coming. That gave him enough time to prepare and plan a counterattack.

Unlike then, he had no warning this time.

Being behind Dick’s, his only hope was that a Knight or an employee would step out back, see the fuck what was going on and get help.

Whether he continued breathing or not, he wanted these fuckers identified. If someone killed the Knights’ prez, his brothers would be out for revenge. Even if it ended up being the Fury teaching Romeo a fucked up “lesson.”

He wasn’t sure how long the attack lasted. It could’ve been a minute. It could’ve been ten.

Romeo’s last lucid thought was that it sure as fuck seemed like an eternity.

Romeo blinked. A bright light made him wince and close his eyes again.

With a groan, he lifted a single eyelid to double check.

When you died, you were supposed to walk toward the bright light, right?

Wait. Did he actually qualify to get through the pearly gates?

No fucking way.

Or was it a trick? An attempt to lure him to follow the light and then once the gates were slammed shut behind him, he’d find himself in a very hot spot? Burning for all eternity?

That would suck.

Fuck the light. He was going to resist for as long as he could. He wasn’t going willingly. He would have to be dragged kicking and screaming?—

“Romeo!”

God or Satan, he couldn’t tell which, had a very familiar voice.

Damn , they were trying to trick him by using Wick’s voice. He wasn’t falling for it.

“Rome!”

“Not goin’,” he moaned. “Fuck off.” Why did it even hurt to talk? Or, hell , breathe?

What the fuck? Why was he feeling pain at all? He was dead. He wanted a goddamn refund if you still suffered after death.

“Rome! Wake up before I hafta call a fuckin’ ambulance.”

What? Shouldn’t it be the coroner?

“You ain’t Wick.” Even saying those three words was a damn struggle.

“Who am I?”

“The fuckin’ devil.”

“Been called that before.”

When he lifted his eyelids again, a sharp, shooting pain caused his brain to throb. “You’re tryin’ to trick me with that light.”

“It’s my fuckin’ phone, you dumbass.”

“Why do you need a—” He tried to block the blinding light with this hand, but his arms weighed too much for him to lift. “Am I dead?”

“Sure don’t sound like it. Checked your pulse and you still got one. And since you’re bein’ a dick, my uneducated guess is no, you ain’t dead.”

That would explain the unbearable agony in every inch of his body. Or at least in the parts he still could feel.

He’d been in plenty of fights, including bar fights and prison brawls. Never had it hurt this fucking bad.

“Should get you to the hospital, anyway.”

“Should but won’t.”

“Not sure you got a choice, prez.”

“Always got a choice.”

“Sure, a choice of life or fuckin’ death. Could have internal injuries. Brain could be bleedin’. Lungs punctured. Who the fuck knows?”

“When the fuck did you turn into an EMT?” Every damn word uttered was a chore .

Wick huffed and threw up his hands. “Whatever, brother. Just so you know, you look like week-old roadkill right now. Musta done somethin’ stupid to spark this. Got every fuckin’ right to continue to be a dumbass.”

Romeo could agree with that. He was a dumbass, but not because he didn’t want to get medical attention. “Call Sparky.”

Sparky, a fellow Knight, was also a volunteer firefighter. He sometimes could pull off some medical shit in a pinch. Stitches, cleaning up wounds from fights, pulling debris out of road rash… That kind of shit.

Romeo wouldn’t trust him to do brain surgery. Or a vasectomy.

Wick huffed, “Sparky ain’t a miracle worker.”

With that remark, Romeo was damn sure it had to be ugly. “Don’t give a fuck. Tell him to meet me at my place. He can patch me up.”

“How the fuck are you gettin’ to your place?”

The only thing he could move right now was his eyeballs, so he glanced in the direction of his crib and judged the distance. It was close as fuck but he doubted he could even crawl those few feet. “You’re gonna help me. After you call Sparky.”

Wick shook his head. “Ain’t callin’ Sparky. Takin’ you to the hospital, Rome. And we’re wastin’ time by you bein’ so goddamn stubborn. Your fuckin’ arm’s at angles I ain’t never seen before and never want to see again. Got a bone stickin’ out of your thigh and your boot’s backward. Got blood everywhere. A goddamn butterfly bandage and a kiss on your boo-boo ain’t gonna fix what you got broken.”

“Gonna be pissed if you take me anywhere other than my place. ”

“What the fuck you gonna do, hit me?” Wick snorted. He took a step back and challenged, “Get up and try it.”

The second Romeo tried to push past the pain to do just that…

He lost the fucking fight.

Again.

The annoying sounds. The unnatural smells. The eye-searing lights.

It might not be hell, but it was damn close.

He forced open his eyes again and shifted them enough to take a better look at his surroundings.

Of fuckin’ course. He kind of remembered now, even though his memory was a bit spotty. More like it had gaping holes.

He glanced down to see needles with attached tubes stuck in his cast-free arm. One of his legs was also in a plaster cast and hanging in the air using some contraption. What he currently wore was as far from his cut as it can get, except for being naked.

They better not have cut off his goddamn cut. It was one of his prize possessions.

For fuck’s sake. Did he pull out in front of a tractor trailer that was traveling seventy-five miles an hour or something? Did he misjudge the distance and speed of the truck?

A noise to his left had him turning his head. And regretting it.

Bishop slouched in a chair by the bed, scrolling through his cell phone.

Now Romeo wondered where his was. Was it destroyed? If it was, he was screwed. His whole life was stored in that damn phone.

His VP looked up, then put his phone down. “‘Bout time you woke up. You’ve been out so fuckin’ long, thought I might need to take over the gavel.”

He thought what?

“H—” His throat felt like it was full of dust and gravel. Despite trying to clear it, his voice remained rough, and speaking was a chore. “How long have I been here?” Here obviously being a hospital.

“This is day four.”

What the fuck? Four days? “Why don’t I remember that?”

Bishop shrugged. “Could be the fact you’ve been in and out of it. When you were in, you babbled some shit that didn’t make much fuckin’ sense. They really scrambled your brain.”

They. So, he hadn’t been splattered like a bug on the front grill of an eighteen-wheeler.

“How’d I get here?” he croaked.

“Wick.”

“Where’s he at?”

“Not sure. We’ve all been takin’ turns sittin’ with you.”

“To keep me company?”

“To make sure the motherfuckers who fucked you up don’t come back to finish the job.”

Romeo let that sink into his shaken and bruised gray matter.

They. Motherfuckers. Wick. Bits and pieces of the attack were slowly coming back to him.

Bishop picked up his phone again. “Gonna let Magnum know you’re awake.”

“Fuck that. Wanna talk to Wick first. He tell Magnum what happened?”

“What d’you think?”

His mouth and throat were so damn dry, he needed water. Though, whiskey might be a better choice.

Lifting his unbroken, but severely bruised, arm—the one with the needles stuck in both the back of his hand and forearm—he reached for the cup sitting on a rolling table next to the bed. Unfortunately, it was empty. “Water.”

Bishop popped up and grabbed the pitcher, filled the plastic cup, and held it out. “Want me to help?”

Romeo swiped at the cup and missed. He tried and missed again.

Bishop held the straw to his lips. “Might take a while to get back your coordination. Remember that old commercial where they cracked an egg into a fryin’ pan and said, ‘this is your brain on drugs?’ Your brain’s sorta like that right now but instead of one egg, they broke a whole dozen.”

What the fuck was he talking about?

Whatever it was wasn’t important. But what was… “My cut?”

“At your place.”

“It okay?”

“That’s fucked up, brother. You’re more worried about your damn cut than yourself?” Bishop shook his head. “It’s safe and sound. Wick thought ahead and left that and the piece you were packin’ at your place before the ambulance hauled your ass away.”

He’d sigh with relief but figured doing so would hurt like fuck since his ribs were tightly bound for a good reason.

But… his piece? Why didn’t he pull it if his life was in danger?

“I give any of ‘em an extra hole or two?”

“Don’t think so. Seems like the only blood that needed to be washed off the pavement was yours.”

Great.

“Think it was the Fury?”

Bishop’s forehead wrinkled. “Why the fuck would it be the Fury?”

Shit. “It wouldn’t. You’re right about my mind bein’ scrambled.” He quickly changed the subject. “Wick found me?”

“I just said that.”

“Need to talk to him.”

Bishop shook his head. “You just said that.”

For fuck’s sake. Did he have permanent brain damage? “What’s wrong with me?”

“Listin’ what’s right would be shorter.”

“That supposed to be a fuckin’ joke?”

The Knights’ VP sighed. “No, Rome, it’s the fuckin’ truth. Don’t remember what the doctor told you?”

“Don’t remember shit. Just bits and pieces of me bein’ jumped.”

“Then I’m sure she’ll give you a laundry list the next time she stops in.”

“No brain damage?”

“We asked her how we’d be able to tell when you’re normally an idiot.”

“No way to talk to your prez,” he grumbled.

“Rather me lie?”

“Yeah.”

Bishop snorted.

“Gimme my phone so I can text Wick.”

“About that…”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Sully already got you a new one. Had the phone company transfer all your shit, so not much should be lost.”

“My phone lost or did those fuckers take it? ”

“Got as beat up as you did.”

“Didn’t get fuckin’ beat up. Got ambushed.”

“Your ass got beat. Badly.” Bishop jerked his chin toward the hospital bed. “The proof is you bein’ stuck in that bed.”

Like he needed that damn reminder.

He was done with this conversation. The only one he wanted to talk to right now was Wick.

“Text Wick, then go get me my new phone, my sled and my cut.”

Bishop hooted loudly. “How the fuck you ridin’ your sled when you’re in goddamn traction?”

“Will figure out a way.”

“The only vehicle with wheels you’ll be ridin’ for a while will be a wheelchair.”

The good news kept coming.