Slate (Rebel Wayfarers MC) (51 page)

They pulled into the parking lot of a store located a half-block from the house, idling as softly as possible when there were this many powerful bikes in one place. Standing in a circle of his brothers, Slate looked around, noting each face.

“You should all have the house layout. We think she’s probably in the basement. Gunny, you are my pick for point to go into the basement from the backyard. I’ll be inside in the back, and will go down the stairs there. We run this to the end of the line, brothers. If she’s in there, then no one in that building is innocent.” He saw a couple of the men pale at that.

“This is Rebel business. Ruby is Rebel, was claimed months ago as our property. Now, she’s my old lady, and these motherfuckers took her from my side. For me, this is personal. Fuck, for all of us, this is personal, because we are Rebels. Rebel Wayfarers forever,” he said, and heard the echoes from around him, “forever
Rebels.”

Running up the alley behind the houses, Slate followed Gunny; half-bent over
in a crouch, they took advantage of what cover was available. He heard soft footfalls behind him, and saw shadows moving up the street that ran parallel. This was near a historic district, and some of the houses looked old and well kept. If the owners looked outside, they’d get a shock at nearly twenty-five badass bikers in leather and denim traveling at a soundless dead run.

Gunny pulled up and indicated they were at the right address. Slate verified and nodded at him. He texted Bear they were going in, and they swarmed through the backyard, half of the men going towards what looked like barn doors mounted in cement against the house, and half heading towards the screened-in entryway porch.

Slate and Tequila were side-by-side in the hallway when they heard the first gunshots from the basement. They rounded the corner into what looked like a huge farmhouse kitchen, seeing a narrow door in a nearby hallway. There were two men in the kitchen, and they seemed frozen with indecision. Slate took care of that for them, clocking them in the head with the butt of his gun as he ran past, making sure they were unconscious when they hit the floor.

The door slammed open, and a big man stepped up from the basement stairs. He looked startled to see them in the house, and his running momentum had him half turned around before Tequila could grab him. He slammed Tequila against the wall, but Pinto got behind him, whipping his pistol against the side of the man’s head until he slumped against the bottom of the wall near the doorway.

Another gunshot from the basement had Slate moving down the stairs as fast as he could go, his eyes sweeping the open, unfinished, empty room. He recognized Bear’s voice upstairs roaring at someone, and heard running feet on the floorboards over his head.

There was blood on the floor in the next room in the basement, and Slate caught himself on the doorframe as he took in the scene. Two men were motionless on the floor, and Gunny had his handgun pointed at a man kneeling in the center of the room. Ruby was bound to a bare metal bedframe in the corner. She was naked, and wasn’t moving.

Tug was next to the bed fiddling with something, swearing and jerking his hands back before reaching forward again. He looked up at Slate, yelling, “Don’t touch her; the bed is hot. Give me a second, Prez. Don’t touch her.”

He took a shaky step towards her, and then another, and was at her side in two more strides. He heard Tug, but didn’t understand. “Prez, give me a minute, fuck. Hold, man. Hold.” Reaching out his hand, there was a sharp spark between Slate’s fingertips and her face as Tug yelled, “Got it.”

Cupping her chilled face in his palm, he couldn’t feel her breath on his skin. Pulling out his knife, he sliced through the leather that bound her to the bed, hollering, “Get Goose! Someone get Goose.” Slate pulled her body into his lap; she draped over his legs and arms loosely, her joints bending in ways they shouldn’t.

Goose was there a moment later, pulling her from his arms. “Give her to me, Slate. Let me help her, man.” He positioned her on the floor and quickly checked her, then started pressing on her chest. “Slate, call a bus. Tug, count for me. Somebody find a blanket; we need something to cover her,” Goose barked as Slate sagged to his knees next to Ruby on the floor.

“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?” he heard over the phone, then gave them the address and nothing else before ending the call. “Hoss,” he started as his next call connected, “we have her, but she’s bad.” He terminated that call, too, still watching Goose work with Ruby.

He heard Tequila and Bear yelling upstairs; there were two more gunshots, and then silence from the house above them. His eyes were focused on Goose, who was counting along with Tug. Turning his head, he looked into the face of the man Gunny had at the end of his barrel, and saw it was Rabid. The man had once been a brother, a Rebel, and he was in the same room as his Ruby.

Tug called, “Gunny, secure the motherfucker. Get a blanket.” Slate kept staring at Rabid for a minute, clenching his teeth. Deliberately turning back to Ruby, he leaned down and put his lips next to her ear, whispering, “Come back to me, baby. Come home, Ruby. Love me, baby? Love me enough? Come back; I want you here with me. Love you, sweetness. My lover, my life, you are my breath. I’m here, baby. Right here, see me?”

He heard a noise, and saw a blanket settle over her belly and legs. Turning his head, he saw the car battery sitting on the table near the bed, and realized what had happened to Ruby...what they had done. He reached out his hand and cupped her cheek; it was cold to the touch, and he jerked back. “Goose?” he snapped, asking his question without any more words.

“It was constant current, body-wide, and she’s dry. We have to get her heart to beat normally; it’s all over the place right now, Prez,” Goose gasped out between compressions. “You keep talking to her, man. Keep her engaged; she’s in there. I know she is. She’s still here, brother.” Slate nodded, reached out again, and touched her face unflinchingly. Lowering his face to hers again, he whispered in her ear.

There was a commotion upstairs, and he realized he’d been hearing sirens getting closer. There was a clatter of feet, and two men in EMT uniforms came into view, stopping beside one of the men on the floor. Slate stood with a shout that got them moving, “Get the fuck in here.
Help her
.”

Goose turned her over to one of the men, who put his hands on Ruby’s chest. Slate winced at him touching her, but put his mouth back down by her head, continuing to whisper to her, “I’m here, baby. I love you. Come back to me, lover. Come home, baby. Ruby, I need you. Come back, come home.”

The second man affixed sticky patches to her ribs and chest, then they moved back, telling Slate, “Move back for a second, clear.” Ruby’s body moved slightly on the floor, but Slate didn’t pay attention to that; he watched avidly as her mouth moved, lips opening in a cough. “Thank fuck,” he whispered.

Both EMTs swooped down on her, rattling off medical terms and using various pieces of equipment they’d brought with them in a toolbox. One of them looked up at Goose. “We need the gurney,” he told him, and Goose stood, turning to go to the doors opening into the backyard, asking as he went, “Bus in front?” and receiving an affirmative response.

Slate levered himself to his feet and looked over at Gunny and Tug. “Get shit tidied, Brothers. Did we find the one who started this?”

They nodded at him, Tug telling him, “That one is on the main floor, Prez. I’m on it; stay with Ruby.” Tug turned, calling orders as he ran upstairs. Within a couple of minutes, the men who had been unconscious on the floor were gone, taken into the backyard and carted off in a van brought for this purpose.

Deke came downstairs, took a look inside the room, and his face tightened as he took a step backward, yelling, “They had her on that bedframe, man? They fucking electrocuted her? What was the fucking point?” At that, one of the EMTs turned and looked, and his face tensed. He grabbed the mic on his shoulder, telling dispatch or the hospital they had an electrocution victim incoming, rattling off a bunch of numbers and acronyms.

“What hospital?” Slate asked, hearing the response, “St. Joe’s,” and he nodded. Dialing, he said softly, “Taking her to St. Joe’s. You’ve got some packages coming, brother. Box those leftovers up for me, and keep them.” He hung up, sliding the phone into his pocket.

They transferred her to the gurney Goose brought in; he’d moved the bus to the back alley to make it easier to get her out of the house. Slate looked around. “Deke, with me, man. Tequila, call PBJ; have him come to the hospital. Take the rest of the brothers home. This shit could fracture the club…fucking Rabid. Goddammit.”

***

Hours later, Slate was sitting on the edge of Ruby’s bed. She was exhausted from the tests and medication, and he hoped she’d be able to rest for a while. She’d been confused when he was finally allowed to see her, unsure of what was going on. Totally focused on watching her face as she slept, he was startled when he heard Mason’s voice from behind him. “She’s going to be okay, Slate. You got her, man. You got her back.”

Turning to look behind him, Slate stood, stepped towards Mason, and pulled him close in a one-armed embrace. “I didn’t know you were coming, but it’s good to see you, brother,” he ground out through sudden, harsh tears. “We won’t know for a few days if everything is okay, but they said the swelling in her brain is nearly gone. Now they’re waiting to see if there’s organ damage.”

He shook his head. “This shit is so fucked up. I feel useless, Mason. I can’t do anything to help her.” He wiped at his eyes with the backs of his hands. “They stole her from my side, man. She was by my fucking side, and I couldn’t keep her safe. It was touch and go too. She nearly died in that basement, because I couldn’t keep her safe. She wasn’t fucking breathing for the longest time; Goose saved her life.” He swept his arm towards her. “Look at her, Mason; look at where she is...what she’s gone through. This shit is because of me, because of us. It hurts so fucking bad, man. How can I do this?”

Mason looked at him for a long minute, then reaching out one hand to grip his bicep, he asked, “How can you not, brother?”

They stood in silence watching Ruby for several minutes, then Mason stirred. “I’m not staying, just needed to stop in on my way to the clubhouse to see for myself how she’s doing. I’m taking care of these fuckers tonight, Slate. You stay here and be with your lady. Our brothers and I have this under control, and we will handle things as needed. The hard shit’s
here
, man; I don’t envy your path,” Mason pulled him close again, whispering in his ear, “but she is fucking
worth it
. Like Mica would say—she’s your always, man. You are one lucky motherfucker; not all of us find ours.”

After Mason had left, Slate moved back to the bed, perched on the edge, and leaned close to hold Ruby’s hand. He didn’t even know he was dozing until her hand shook his shoulder. “Babe, wake up. You’re about to fall off the bed.”

Straightening his torso, he stretched a little and looked down at her, a smile quirking his lips. “Hey, you,” he said softly. “How are you feeling, baby?”

Ruby closed her eyes and sighed. “Like a bus ran over me, backed up, and ran over me again.” She tipped her head back, slowly opening her eyes. “Climb in here, babe,” she told him. “I can’t sleep without you.”

Grinning, Slate didn’t wait for a second invitation, toeing off his boots and crawling into bed beside her. He arranged himself next to her, carefully wrapping one arm around her waist and pulling her in tightly to his side while watching out for the various lines and wires attached to her. “Can you sleep now, baby?” he asked quietly.

“Mmm hmmm,” she murmured into his chest, “I love you, Slate.”

He felt her smile on his skin and had to tighten his lips to hold back a sudden sob. “I love you too, Ruby,” he whispered against the top of her head, “more than I can tell you. Baby, you are my everything, my...always. You’re not getting away from me, you know that? I love you, and this is forever.”

From her even, slow breathing, he knew she’d gone to sleep, but just as he’d carried on a one-sided conversation while Goose and the EMTs worked on her, he talked to her now. He told her about his family in Wyoming, and how things had changed after his dad died. He hit the high points of his years spent wandering, telling her the story about the shortest-lived job he’d ever had, and how he’d fallen into the sheep dip.

Slate gave her every significant detail about his life, all the things that made him the man he was today, including Lottie and Edith; he didn’t hold anything back. He told her about Mason, and how the job in Chicago had gotten him focused. By the time he finished talking, his voice was raspy and sore-sounding, and Ruby had been awake and listening for a long time.

She reached up, tracing his nose with her fingertips, down to his lips. “You are amazing, did you know that? I’m so in awe of everything you’ve done and accomplished, babe, so proud of you, and blown away that out of the whole world, you picked me. Slate, I love you—never doubt it.”

23 -
            
Home

“No, seriously, get your ass in here and talk to me, Slate,” Ruby yelled from the bedroom.

Pulling on his jacket, he walked up the stairs. “What do you need, baby? I gotta get to the clubhouse; there’s still a shit-ton of fallout that needs to be handled before I go. Gasman is coming in for a sit-down, then I’ll be going to Marie’s about six o’clock if you wanted to come down for dinner.” He stopped and cocked an ear towards her phone where she had music playing, listening to the words with sudden intent. “What song is that, baby?”