Page 3 of Marx

My gaze flicks from the knives I’m sharpening, to the mess of dark ringlets attached to the little girl lying starfished out on mine and Rhodie’s bed. Whoever did this endangered not only the men, women and children who were at the compound, but they also endangeredmydaughter. So screw them, they’re going down.

Chapter 2

Marx

The doors fling open, jerking me awake. Switch fills the doorway, all ginger hair and bulk stuffed into a white coat.

“I think she’d probably feel better quicker if you went home and showered,” He says, taking a dig at the state I’m in. I’ve been sitting next to Lovely’s bedside for close to 48 hours. I’m not leaving until she wakes up.

“I need the full breakdown. The doctors wouldn’t tell me shit because I’m not next of kin for Fox or Lovely and they barely told the Landrys shit either.” I growl. It’s one thing to keep information from me, but her brothers? It was fucked up none of the staff would tell them exactly what was happening with her. Something to do with her paperwork and the cult they grew up in or some shit.

Switch eyes me then drags a visitor’s chair from the corner, until he’s sitting next to me, both of us with eyes on Lovely.

“Fox took two to the gut, as you well know. They were through and through, nicked an artery on the way out. Needed four units of blood and he’ll be in an induced coma for anotherday or so to help with healing. He’s fit and reasonably young so he’ll be fine. Will be fucking tender for a while though.”

I nod at the news, and feel a small amount of tension drain from my body. “Good, that’s good. What else you got?”

“Judge, Dex and Rider all have flesh wounds, they’ll be fine. Laying low at the farm.”

I run a hand down my face, breathing out a sigh of relief. “And Lovely?” my fists clench, and it feels fucking wrong to have this conversation as we stare at her, tube down her throat, IV lines in both arms.

Switch is quiet for a moment, opening and closing his mouth once, twice, “She’s going to be OK. Bullet had a clean exit.”

I turn my head to stare at him in disbelief, “Why was there so much fucking blood? I’ve seen fucking wounds like that before Ryan, and ain’t none of them have survived.”

He rubs his hand down his beard, before turning to me. “The bullet nicked a small artery, hence the bleed. The girls, Blanche and Nat, without them driving like fucking Dom Torretto, neither Lovely or Fox would be alive right now.”

Fuck. I owe those women. I owe all of them. Not only did Blanche and Nat save lives with their quick thinking and in Blanche’s case her lead foot, but Chewy cleared the clubhouse of the rest of the women and children, getting them to the safety of the farmhouse.

“You can tell me to piss off, but I need to know something,” Switch says, still speaking in a tone I’m not used to hearing from him.

I wave my hand, gesturing for him to go ahead.

“Where exactly were you and Lovely standing when this went down?”

My brows pull down. “We were standing between the parked bikes, outside the clubhouse.”

His eyes narrow a little, “I mean, in relation to each other, and the road.”

I think back. We were standing face to face, the clubhouse door on my left hand side, the curve of the road running past the clubhouse at my back. “The bend in the road was behind me, and Lovely was standing facing me, and the road, I guess. Why?”

His ginger brows pull down, a frown marring his face, “Where were you when the shots rang out?”

I lean back, thinking. One moment I’m trying to apologize, the next my ears are ringing and I’m on the ground. “Fuck, I, I’m not sure. I was looking at Lovely, and then somehow I was on the ground.” I run my hand through my hair, probably making it stand on fucking end from the amount of hair pulling I’ve been doing. A hand bats away mine, before Switch stands, running his hands through my hair, looking for… something. I’m not sure.

“Shit, that’s a big goose egg you got there Pres. Do you remember hitting your head?”

“Not really, but I remember being on the ground and all hell breaking loose.” The look on Switch’s face unnerves me, “What the fuck is going on?”

Switch sighs heavily. He runs his hand down his face, combing his fingers through his red beard before leaning forward in his chair, elbows resting on his thighs. He stares at Lovely for a beat, before looking down at his hands.

“Switch!” I growl. His unusual silence is really starting to piss me off.

“I’ll have to check the footage, but shit, Pres, I think Lovely saved your fucking life.” My head flies back as if I’ve been hit. “Would you say you’re at the very least, a foot taller than Lovely?”

“I’d say I’m over a foot taller than her.”

He nods, his red hair flopping everywhere. “Let’s say the shooter shot straight and true, yeah? If we measure the height atwhich it hit Lovely compared to where it would hit you, I would bank money that bullet was meant to hit you, from behind, and tear through your abdomen. Best case scenario, at that height, would be colostomy bag for life.”

---