Page 59 of Property of Camo

“Got attacked. Call 911. Hurt bad,” I manage to say before my body loses all will to stay awake and everything goes black.

21

Camo

After today’s shift at the club’s garage, my body aches from being bent over so many fucking car engines.

“Beer,” I call to the prospect, then join Pres.

“All caught up?” he asks me.

“Yeah. Burying myself under car hoods all day is just what I signed up with an MC for,” I joke, downing half my beer.

“We all play our part, brother.”

“I know. How did the organ drop go?” I ask Winger.

“Uneventful, thankfully. The rich fuck wants to keep us on the books for when he needs more; plus, he wants us to help find some ring that will keep him young. The pixies have knowledge of it.”

“More money for the club. I saw that Rush and Cotton got back from the run to collect the potion from the black witch.”

He nods. “Got scratched to shit for it, too.” He laughs, then his body stiffens and his eyes turn white.

His visions come when we least expect it but we are used to it now. He has been caught off guard a few times, once he wasriding and had a vision, he almost laid his bike down, but we rode next to him to control the situation.

His vision clears and he looks at me and my gut sinks.

“Skyla.” One word has my heart racing.

I push to my feet, then my phone rings. Seeing Clark’s name, I stop in my tracks, looking to Winger, who nods.

“Clark?”

“Camo.” I hear her voice and my fear reaches the heavens.

“Skyla? Baby, what happened?”

“Got attacked. Call 911. Hurt bad.” Her voice fades.

“Skyla. SKYLA!” I scream her name into the device when she says nothing else.

Running down the hall, I make it into the main room seeing my brothers ready waiting for an order from me.

“SKYLA. Baby, please talk to me.” I try again but I hear nothing.

“Let’s go,” Pres calls out.

I move around him, calling out the information.

“Skyla called, they have been attacked. We need to get to the gym.” I race to my bike, all of my brothers hot on my heels.

“Where the fuck is the prospect?” Thorin growls.

“Fuck knows but he had better be dead or bleeding out,” Winger snarls.

He fucking hates shitty prospects. They come into his club wanting to be a part of us, then become lazy and never pull their weight. Well, those fucks do not last long around the Kings.

While we speed through the street, my blood boils, and my heart races in fear and anguish that I could lose Skyla before I can tell her how I feel.

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