Page 15 of Jett

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“JESUS CHRIST, YOU STUPIDson of a bitch,” Jett says as I open my eyes. “You scared the fucking shit out of us.”

“Raine? Where’s Raine?”

“She’s resting, arsehole, which is exactly where you’re going to stay for the next twenty-four hours, according to the good doc.”

“Shit. Lola? Tell me someone got Lola.”

“You mean that decrepit little yappy shit who tried to bite everyone’s fingers off?” Jett’s eyes trail to the end of the bed. I follow his line of sight. There’s a pile of blankets, and when I move my feet, sure enough, her warm little body is right there, snuggled in the gap between them. “The bitch wouldn’t leave your side. Snapped at anyone who even came close. That idiot French Bulldog of Ivy’s managed to coax her into the corner to piss though.”

“Great. Was she hurt?”

“Not as far as anyone could tell. I don’t know how she wasn’t killed by your fuckin’ bike, but she was tucked snugly inside the saddlebag.”

“And Raine? Is she okay?”

“She’s got a fractured arm, and a few scrapes and bruises, but she’s alive. No fucking thanks to you. Why the hell weren’t you here at first light?”

“Raine had some stuff to take care of.”

“Yeah, well ... the Russians almost took care of you both, and now I have a big motherfucking hole in my gate, and a car bomb that the Feds are all over. What the fuck were you thinkin’?”

“I was trying to save her life.”

“Really? ’Cause it looks like you were tryin’ to end yours.”

“I need to see her.” I sit up. My head spins. My ears feel like they’re stuffed full of cotton wool. I’m pushed back on the mattress by several hands. When I glance up, the Butcher and Kick are holding me down.

Where the fuck did they come from?

“Sit your arse down. She’s sleepin’ it off. Doc knocked her full of morphine. You’ll see her when she wakes up.”

“Prez.” I shake my head. Lola growls. I divert my gaze to the end of the bed, and there’s a sharp sting to my fucking jugular. The next thing I see is my dog lunging at the Butcher, and the lights go out.

JETT

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