BUTCHER: Wolves MC (Riding With Wolves Book 3) (16 page)

“I know her,” he went on, looking toward the nurse. “Her name is Stacey. She’s cool. You can say whatever you want in front of her. No worries.”

I looked at the nurse—Stacey—again, and she smiled at me as she continued to fuss with the equipment.

“Alright,” I said, reluctantly. I reached into the plastic bag, and into my purse, and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

“Here,” I said, holding it out to Butcher. “This is the photo I was telling you about. I don’t know if
it
will help you much, but I hope everything else I said will.”

Butcher took the paper from my hand, shoved it in his pocket without looking at it, and leaned over to kiss me.

“Thanks, Lexi,” he said. I felt a few stray tears fall on my skin. “You’re amazing. You put your life on the line to help me save my daughter, and you fought the Grim Reaper to get this information to me. I’ll
never
forget that, and I will
always
love you for it.”

As Butcher stood up to leave, the other nurse—Trista—reappeared at the door.

“I called the police,” Trista said, sliding past him and walking into the room.

“Good,” Stacey replied. “You saved me the trouble. I was gonna call them as soon as I was done checking on her vitals.”

Stacey winked at me and started removing some of the electrodes that tethered me to the machines. She pulled on one of the sticky conductor patches on my chest, and I winced in pain.

“Get me some rubbing alcohol, will ya, Trista?” she asked.

“Sure,” the younger nurse answered.

Stacey watched as Trista exited the room, then turned to me and resumed what she was doing.

“So you went through all this for Butcher’s daughter?” she asked, treating my body with great care.

“Yeah,” I answered. “She’s three years old, and she’s really sick. I had to try and help her.”

“Helping her is one thing,” Stacey said. “But you risked your life for her. You could’ve died.”

“I know,” I replied. “But some things are worth it, I guess—and I’d do it all again if I had to.”

“Really?” Stacey asked, inquisitively raising an eyebrow.

“Absolutely,” I answered without pause.

“Well then,” she replied, glancing over her shoulder, “before the cops get here, you and I need to have a little chat.” She walked over to the door, locked it, and returned to my bedside.

The electrodes weren’t attached to my body anymore—but if they had been, at this point, they would’ve been chirping like crazy.

Seven Months Later

~ Butcher ~

Meet me at Tellie’s at six o’clock sharp,
the text read.
Don’t be late!

I stared at the message and read it over and over again but still didn’t know what to make of it. I’ve never been a prompt, punctual individual, and Lexi knew that about me, so I couldn’t understand why she’d sent a text like that at this point in our relationship.

Nonetheless, I did as the text instructed—and I showed up at Tellie’s at six o’clock on the nose, not a minute late (or early).

Of course, Lexi was already there when I arrived, and she greeted me with a huge smile as soon as I got to our table.

“What’s up, baby?” I asked, taking a seat. “Why did I have to be here at six
exactly
?”

“It’s a special occasion,” she answered, melodically. “We’re celebrating tonight.”

“Celebrating?” I asked curiously. Things were going great between Lexi and me, but I couldn’t think of any reason we had to “celebrate.” We’d been dating longer than six months, but less than a year—so it couldn’t be an anniversary, and we’d already celebrated her birthday two months earlier, and mine was a still a month away.

“Yes,” she replied, still smiling. “We’re celebrating.”

“Celebrating
what
?” I inquired.

“It’s been seven months since I got out of the hospital,” she said, folding her arms over the table and resting her rockin’ breasts against them.

I thought for a moment and did the math in my head. Lexi was right. It’d been seven months since she was released from the hospital after being stabbed, but I still couldn’t understand why that was a reason to celebrate.

I guess the fact that Lexi was alive was reason enough to celebrate. But why do it now? Why do it tonight?

Granted, we probably should’ve celebrated her release when it actually happened. But things were still a little too hectic to do it then, and we both had a lot on our plates. Lexi, obviously, had to rest, recuperate, and recover, and I had to deal with the “information” she’d given me at the hospital.

And, as per that information, sadly, I must report that it ultimately led nowhere—at least as far as Sonja was concerned. Immediately after I left the hospital that fateful day, I called Crete, told him what I had learned, and asked him to look into “Deidre Flynn” for me. He called me back less than hour later and told me that Deidre was dead. She’d overdosed four months earlier, and she—and her organs—had been cremated and interred in her family plot in Evergreen Cemetery, where both of her parents had also been laid to rest.

But even though the hunt for ‘D’ ended that day because of the information Lexi provided, another hunt continued and, with it, brought promise. A few hours after hearing about Deidre’s demise, I decided to look at the photo Lexi had given me. Indeed, I did recognize the hooker being dragged away in handcuffs, and I remembered sharing a few intimate encounters with her.

When I mentally zoomed out and focused on the bigger picture (literally), my heart nearly jumped out of my chest. Deidre’s face wasn’t the only familiar one in the photo, and I suddenly understood why the big white woman with the fro had stabbed Lexi.

Right there in the photo, amongst the crowd of onlookers, there was a beautiful, refined woman wearing a sleek business suit and a pair of aviator sunglasses. I couldn’t see her eyes, but judging from every other part of her face and body, I knew—I
knew
—who it was.

Some time ago—probably a year before the photo that ran in the newspaper was taken—Crete’s wife of twelve years, Katy, inexplicably vanished. Given the Wolves’ agenda, we figured that she was likely abducted by a rival gang, and that she was being used, as a pawn, to get the upper hand on us.

Since Katy’s disappearance, along with a few other select Wolves, I’d served as a member of a special task force dedicated to finding her, or finding out more information on what happened to her. We’d tried everything we could, less going to the police, and turned over every stone we found, but it was useless. We couldn’t find anything.

And then I saw that photo.

That woman in the photo—the beautiful, refined one in the sleek business suit and aviators? That was Katy. For the first time in a long time, we had a lead—and since then, we’ve been diligently pursuing it.

Getting a hot lead in a cold case is another good reason to celebrate, I guess. But again—why do it now? Why do it tonight?

In any event, I highly doubted that we were here to “celebrate” such general things. I knew that Lexi had to have something more specific in mind—and when I saw Carrie walking toward our table with a tray of food, my mind started to roam.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Lexi said, changing the subject, “but I ordered for us before you got here.”

“It’s okay,” I replied, swallowing the lump that was forming in my throat.

Carrie placed my usual (a bottle of Miller Lite and a hamburger with ketchup, pickles and onions) in front of me, then set a glass of water down in front of Lexi, followed by what appeared to be a salad topped with grilled chicken.

We’d been to Tellie’s together over a dozen times since we met, and Lexi and I always ordered the same thing, all the time. This salad and water was a drastic departure from her usual burger and beer, and to be honest, it unnerved me. I started to wonder why Lexi would opt for something so healthy, and then I put two and two together and was fairly certain I’d figured out
why
we were here to celebrate.

“Are you
pregnant
?” I asked in a whisper, leaning over the table as soon as Carrie was out of earshot.

“No,” Lexi giggled, spearing her fork into her salad. “I just want to eat healthier.”

Just then, I heard Ozzy Osbourne start howling. I’d changed my ringtone to
Crazy Train
a while back, and my phone was now ringing, but I decided to ignore it.

“Answer it,” Lexi said, shoveling a cherry tomato into her mouth.

Since Lexi knew about Sonja now—and had become an active part of her life over the past several months—I didn’t have to have my phone on silent and hide my phone calls from her anymore. But that didn’t mean I necessarily had to answer them either.

“Eh,” I replied, shaking my head and taking hold of my beer.

“
Seriously
, Butcher,” Lexi whined. “It could be important.”

I figured Lexi was right, so I set down my beer and pulled my phone out of my pocket.

“Hello?” I answered, tentatively.

“John Crane?” the man on the other end asked.

“Yes,” I replied. I picked up my bottle and took a sip as I listened to what he said next—and then I nearly spit the beer from my mouth.

I sat there, in shock and speechless, as the man on the phone continued to explain the reason for his call—and all the while, Lexi sat across from me, smiling, chewing on the leaves that made up the bulk of her salad.

Approximately one minute after my phone call began, it ended. I hung up the phone and set it down on the table. I was crying and shaking, and my breath was short and hurried.

“So?” Lexi asked, seemingly unmoved by my sudden display of emotion.

“You’re not gonna believe this,” I answered, “but that was a doctor from Cedars-Sinai on the phone.”

“Oh yeah?” Lexi asked, sprinkling some ground pepper on her food.

“They found a match,” I said, nearly weeping. “They found a match for Sonja—a living donor who wants to give her one of their kidneys.”

“I know,” Lexi sang back in a joyful voice. She popped another cherry tomato into her mouth, and right then, I understood the salad and water.

“You mean…?” I started to ask.

“Uh-huh,” Lexi answered with an ear-to-ear grin.

My mouth started to move, but no words came out.

“That day at the hospital,” Lexi went on, answering the questions I was too stunned to ask, “after you left, Stacey and I got to talking. She commended me on how I went out of my way and risked my life to help Sonja, and she told me that, if I really wanted to help, there was something else—something better—I could do.

“Turns out I have the same blood type as Sonja—and I have those rare ‘warm antibodies’ too. But because of my attack and surgeries, I had to wait at least six months before I could even begin the screening process to see if I was, in fact, a suitable donor.

“I went to my doctor three weeks ago, to get the ball rolling. And now… Now, we’re here celebrating. I told
you
to be here exactly at six, because I’d arranged for the doctor to call you at six ten precisely.”

“Lexi,” I said, still too stunned to speak properly, “this is a big step, a
huge
step. Are you sure you’re—?”

“Uh-huh,” Lexi answered, articulating each syllable slowly. She turned her head away from me, and I followed her eyes as they focused on Carrie.

“A wise man once told me that life’s unpredictable,” she went on. “Sometimes shit happens, and sometimes, good things happen, too.”

“This,” she said, turning back to face me, “is one of those good things. So don’t question it. Just accept it—and eat your burger… before I do.”

###