Page 14 of Devil's Due

“What’s his prognosis?”

James sighs. “If I can operate, I reckon I can keep him with four legs. But it’s too early to say—the next twenty-four, even forty-eight hours are crucial. All I can tell you is that I’ll do my best. I’ll also keep the costs as low as I can. I understand you were just a passer-by.” His eyes harden. “Do you know anything about the car or the driver? He should be sued for the fucking cost.”

Good point. “It happened so fast. I wasn’t at a good vantage point.” But it might have been caught on camera, someone’s dash cam perhaps. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

James holds out his hand. First I, then Pal and Pyro, who’ve been carefully listening shake it as well. His grip is firm. “I’ll do my best.”

Somehow I have no doubt of that. James Ransom seems to be one of the good guys.

Chapter Six

“You going to call the owner?” Pyro asks as we get outside. “Fuck me, but I couldn’t work out if that was good news or bad.”

My shoulders rise then lower. “Not much different from when Heart came off his bike. A jumble of medical terms that meant fuck all to us. It seems vets and doctors are the same in that they won’t commit themselves.”

My phone is in my cut, I make no move to take it. “Look, I think I’ll deliver what news I can in person. She cares for that dog.” Four-legged creatures can worm their way into your hearts. Something like that happened to Heart and Marcia’s dog Grunt back in Tucson? Whole fucking club would be down at the vet’s. It’s the thought of how I’d feel if it had happened to Grunt that makes me wary of delivering uncertain news via the phone.

“You know where she is?”

“I’ll try the hospital. If she’s already discharged, it will have to be a call.”

“If she’s in the hospital, she’s probably already got family or friends with her,” Pyro warns.

I think about it. “I hope she has. I can’t exactly say Max will be fine. I can give her a bit of hope, but someone will need to prepare her.” If she’s got a husband, family member or friend with her, perhaps I’ll have a word with them first. Then they can pass the news on. Then, finally, I’ll be able to get to the clubhouse, unpack my shit and have a beer at fucking last.

“What you waiting for? Let’s get rollin’.” Pyro slings his leg over his bike as Pal gets on his.

I look at them with my eyebrow raised.

Pyro interprets it correctly. “You know where this fucking hospital is?”

Of course I don’t. I’ve only just arrived.

Without batting an eye or complaining he’s got better things to do, Pyro just indicates he’ll take the lead. “Best show you the way then.”

Pal, yeah, I’ve known him, what, coming up four years now? He’d started prospecting when he was eighteen, patched in a year later. Sat around the table with him for nearly three years. I might give him shit, but he’s a man I call friend. Pyro? I’ve barely spoken to before. Hell, I might have removed the bottom rocker off my patch, but the significance of the top patch hits me. Satan’s Devils are brothers whatever city or state they are in.

I don’t put my thanks into words, but a jerk of my chin conveys my gratefulness for a second time tonight.

Pyro takes the lead, I fall in with Pal behind him. On the way I’m running through the vet’s complicated explanation in my head, while hoping to fuck that Max is going to pull through and make sufficient recovery so he’ll be able to perform his role for Stevie again.

I hate hospitals with a vengeance, and with very good reason. Ten months ago, I took a bullet and needed surgery. That wasn’t the problem, I was healing okay from that when I developed septicaemia and ended up as close to death as anyone could be. There have been jokes that Satan didn’t want me and sent me back, but whether the Devil or God had a hand in it, in the end I hadn’t died. Much to the astonishment of the medical profession who prodded and poked me far too much, trying to analyse what I’d done to fight such a serious infection. I came through and made a complete recovery. But I’d spent far too much time in that hospital bed, and the smell of the hospital, like at the vet’s, tends to bring it all back. I’d be happier if I never had to step foot in such a place ever again.

Although the parking lot seems to be busy, fitting in three motorcycles is easier than parking the same number of cars, and we’re soon walking toward the emergency entrance. Although the place is busy as places like this usually are on a late Saturday evening, I’m hoping there’s not been too many blind women called Stevie who have been brought in after being hit by a car.

I take a deep breath of fresh air before stepping up to the entrance, pausing to hold open the door for a man walking out with his arm in a sling, then I step inside, unsurprised to find the waiting room crowded. There’s a bunch of youths congregating around a friend who’s holding a cloth to a bloody wound on his face, a couple of the others looking like they too have been in a fight. Not uncommon at the weekend. There’s an elderly gentleman who’s coughing a lot, and a young child wailing, and that’s just part of the selection. I spare a thought for the doctors and nurses who are going to have to deal with this lot.

As the three of us enter, the room quiets. Ignoring the looks and the whispered comments, I start walking toward the queue at reception, the question I’m going to be asking already framed on my lips, when a nurse emerges, her hand on the elbow of a woman, leading her to an empty chair. If I wasn’t so tall and able to see over most other people, I’d have missed her.

I recognise her immediately, she’s the woman I’m seeking.

Changing direction, I push my way through the milling throng, making my way over to her. Suddenly quickening my pace when a drunk lurches into her. I get there in time to pull him off.

“Get the fuck out of the way,” I snarl at him.

Her head snaps up in my direction, but her eyes don’t find my face. If I was shorter, she’d have made a good approximation. “How… how’s Max?” she asks immediately, her voice shakes and her lip is trembling.

Every medical explanation goes out of my head. “Alive, broken leg.”

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