I manage to enter the hospital under my own power, but I’m glad when a nurse with a wheelchair appears. Shivers wrack my body. Feel like I’m about to puke my guts out.

Raylin brushes away the sweat that’s dripping in my eyes. “He’s feverish,” she whispers.

“Gunshots are a bitch,” Hawk says.

Talking as if I’m not there. Not sure I am.

Infection. That might explain the chills, the pain and the sensation of being far away from my own body, watching it all unfold.

An x-ray, painful prodding and arm-wrapping later, plus a brand new, blue plastic cast on my arm and an antibiotic and painkiller twin injection, I have a pissed-off doctor in my face, asking me what the hell I was thinking, not driving directly to a hospital after the shooting.

He’s lucky I feel like roadkill, or I’d tell him where to shove it. I’m not sorry for anything. Not knowing what the key might open and if I’d find an answer or not would have killed me. I’d have put my fist through every fucking wall in this place by now.

“Sorry,” I tell him, cutting him off mid-rant, seeing Hawk coming back through the door. “I’m in a hurry. I’ll take the drugs to go.”

The doc sputters, face going red, and yeah I know I’m being a difficult ass, but my life is kinda fucked, and the fever from the infection isn’t helping. It sucks.

Except when Raylin is touching me, as she’s doing right now, leaning over, stroking my jaw. She’s the most potent drug there is.

“All patched up, buddy?” Hawk drawls, shoving his cell into the pocket of his jacket. “Broken arm, huh? Damn.”

“The wound’s infected,” the doctor says, straightening his coat. “Here’s a prescription for antibiotics.”

“Already got one, “I grumble. “Didn’t do jack.”

“We’ll grab them,” Hawk promises solemnly, raising a hand in vow. “Thank you, doc. Please don’t mind him, he’s been grumpy ever since he got shot. Why? Beats me.”

The doc rolls his eyes, throws his hands in the air and leaves us.

“What about Rook?” I call after him, but he’s already gone. “Damn.”

“Rook’s fine,” Hawk says. “He’s already checked out.”

“Fine. Then let’s go,” I mutter, pulling off the IV line and bracing myself one-handed on the chair back to get up. My knees waver but hold. “Need to talk to the lawyers.”

“Wait up.” Raylin grabs my broken arm and I hiss. “You’re bleeding.”

Where I pulled out the needle, blood is running down my arm. I rein in my impatience while she goes looking for some cotton wool and tape which she uses to cover the small wound, and we’re good to go.

“Got anything?” I ask Hawk as I drag my heavy feet out the door.

“The detective promised to send what he has any minute now. Meanwhile…” He nods at my cast. “Know what that means?”

“What?”

“Sponge baths.” He waggles his brows suggestively. “You lucky bastard.”

***

Sponge baths will have to wait.

We’re back in the chopper where at least the chances of getting shot are significantly less, and Hawk is reading something on his smartphone, a scowl so dark on his face it’d have scared off anyone but me.

“So.” I lift my chin in the direction of his cell as the chopper takes off over the buildings. “Info came in? What does it say?” I narrow my eyes at him. “Or is it your fucking girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend. Layla. The Hot Bod.”

Raylin gives me a wide-eyed stare.

“Hawk’s girlfriend is a stuck-up bitch,” I explain, and Hawk grins. “But Hawk won’t give her up.”

“She’s a sweet fuck, dude.” He taps his cell on his thigh to some inner rhythm. “She’s hot. That’s all I need right now. A hot body. No complications, no relationship shit. Not like Rook and his girl drama.”

I never could understand this side of Hawk. Sometimes I wonder if he doesn’t get lonely. Even with hot bod there, it must be cold.

As for Rook… He’s been in love—or lust?—with a girl since forever and won’t give up, even if she has never as much as glanced his way.

Weird.

Evening is gathering. I turn to Raylin, who’s staring down at the lights of the city below, and my pulse jumps, thumping in my ears. Every time I look at her, a vein of heat opens inside me. My tongue remembers her sweetness. My mind her kindness.

She makes me feel happy.

I frown at that, because it’s a new concept. I’ve been angry, sad, frustrated, and flaming pissed. I’ve been cornered and let down and accustomed to a lot of shit. I’ve been okay. But never good. Never happy. Never hopeful. Not until I met her.

“Where are we going?” she asks, and I blink.

“One of my country estates.” Hawk laces his hands behind his head. Even in his expensive suit he’s every inch the badass biker, with his tats, scruff and longish hair, and the attitude. He used to be the greatest rebel of us three.

Until I skipped town, telling nobody where I was heading, and won the prize.

“What about the lawyers? The money?” Fever tangles up my tongue, trips it up. “How we gonna arrange it?”

“When we land, you will call them. Talk to Shin. That guy has the power in the law firm. They should have the cash ready, and tomorrow, when we go back to town for the meeting with the fucking triad, we only need to pass by and get it.”

He makes it sound easy. Hell, he makes it easy.

“Thanks, man.”

“Don’t mention it.”

It’s dark when we land on a helipad in a huge yard flanked by trees. Lights mark the helipad, and the trees and decorative bushes. Hawk’s country mansion, which is lit up like a Christmas tree, is so far I think we may need a car to drive us there.

In fact, there’s a white Club Car waiting for us, and I snort. Come to think of it, I also own a country estate now, somewhere south from here. I think I visited there once, when I was a teenager, with Uncle Tony. Can barely remember.

I barely know what I own.

Now that’s a scary thought. I really need to sit down with those lawyers, have everything explained to me. Decide what to do with all the illegal business my family has been running. What to give back, what to fix.

How to make it up to those wronged and cut the ties with the Organization and any other illegal group. How can you enjoy money knowing it’s stolen? Knowing it’s money steeped in blood? I’ll never understand that.

My uncle once told me I’m too chicken for business. He was wrong. I’m not afraid. What I am is disgusted and fucking pissed with what I found out today.

And sad. So damn sad that they died for the fucking money. That I may die for it, even if I don’t want it. That Raylin and Rook almost died for it.

I rub my hands over my face. What a goddamn mess.

And it’s about to get worse. I know it the minute Hawk’s phone dings. He glances at it, scrolls down, reads. His face goes red, then white.

Christ. Hawk never gets rattled like that. He’s the epitome of cool and collected.

We’ve landed, but we still haven’t made a move to get out of the chopper, waiting for Hawk to say something.

Finally he does.

“This is fucked up, man.” He throws his cell on the empty seat next to him and kicks at the metal frame of the chopper door. “Really fucked up.”

He lurches to his feet, opens the door and jumps off the chopper. He heads toward the mansion with large strides, ignoring the Club Car.

Shit. If things were bad before, now they’ve gone straight to hell.

***

I climb out of the small Club Car as soon as we reach the house entrance. Raylin follows me, calling my name, and I slow down. Plus, when I see all the steps leading to the front door, I wince. With Raylin’s help I make it up there and then force my aching leg not to drag as we enter the house.

“Hawk!” We enter an airy living room with dark furniture and huge black-and-white photos covering the walls.

“Wow,” Raylin whispers. “Amazing photos.”

“Hawk takes them,” I tell her as we pass the room and wander deeper into the house. “He doesn’t seem the type, but he’s quite the artist.”