Page 23 of Shattered Pieces

“Hunt, you good?” Marco bit out, most likely asking me multiple times already but I hadn’t heard him.

“Yeah, I think so,” I grimaced, managing to get to my feet as he parked close by and climbed off his bike. My bike was on its side further down the fence line, my body starting to hurt as I got moving to walk towards it.

“Slow down, man. You might have broken something,” Marco scolded as he caught up to me, still holding onto his side. “Good thing you had your leathers on.”

I took my helmet off and put my bike upright on its stand, cursing at all the damage.

“It had to be Razor,” I growled, kicking the fence and sending jarring pain through my body, but I didn’t care. I was beyond pissed.

“Never know. Might have been Skeet,” he said dryly, peeling his jacket off to check his wound. “Motherfucker. At least it went right through.”

Sirens sounded, and we couldn’t exactly take off. There was no way I was riding my bike home, and Marco wouldn’t make it that far.

“Fuck,” I spat, tossing my helmet aside and leaning back against the fence, knowing we had no choice but to stay and deal with the cops. “Call Faris and tell them we’ll be back late. I’ll call Skeet and straight up ask that fucker if it was him.”

I went to grab my phone from its holder on the bike, finding it missing. It must have fallen off in the crash.

“We’ll track down Skeet when we get back,” Marco said as he called Faris, seeing my phone was gone too.

It took over an hour for the cops to let us go and clear the bits of my bike from the road. Apart from my body aching, nothing felt broken, so I waved off medical assistance.

Marco wasn’t too happy when I made him go with the ambulance for his bullet wound, not exactly being able to hide the fact he’d been shot when he was bleeding everywhere and people had reported a shooter.

With my bike on the back of a truck, I took Marco’s helmet and rode his bike back to his house, forgetting Tyler was there until I let myself inside to find Marco’s car keys so I could get him from the hospital.

“The fuck happened to you?” Tyler demanded as he sprang up from the couch as I walked past to grab the keys from the drawer.

“Some asshole shot at us on the way back. Mark’s fine, he’s getting a bullet wound patched in the hospital. My bike went out from under me,” I grunted, snatching the keys up as I found them.

“You crashed the bike? Are you okay?”

“I’m standing right in front of you, so yes,” I deadpanned, glaring at him as he yanked the keys from my hand. “I don’t have time for your bullshit, Ty. Give me the keys so I can go and get him.”

“I’ll drive.”

“No, you stay here.”

“Let me. You’ve been on the road all damn day, just be a passenger princess for five minutes,” he snapped, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. Get in the car,” he directed as he walked out, leaving me to lock up with the bike keys as he made himself comfortable in the driver’s seat of Marco’s car.

I couldn’t lie, it was good to be able to just sit while he drove. Exhaustion filled me, and it was only three in the afternoon.

“We could be waiting awhile,” I warned as we parked and headed towards the main doors.

“Welcome to the world of privilege,” he scoffed, walking straight up to the front counter and asking to see Marco. The second they realized he was a rich prick who could get them all fired for absolutely no reason, the poor guy behind the desk rushed to make sure everything was in order, ushering us to the new room they’d put Marco in. Usually, we got a cramped corner when we came in here, but Tyler’s influence apparently gave us an upgrade to a private room and lunch.

“Hey,” Marco grinned, my steps slowing as I narrowed my eyes on him. He looked way too happy, my gut sinking when I realized they’d given him some type of pain relief.

“What the fuck did they give you?” I bit out, stalking closer to grab his chin.

“Whoa, hands off, baby,” he snickered, trying to shoo me away. “You’re cock blocking me from the hot nurses. Don’t let them see you groping me or they’ll think I’m taken.”

“Chill out. They’ve probably just given him a low dose of pain relief,” Tyler said with a frown, but I was already snatching his chart from beside the bed to read it over.

Morphine. They’d given him fucking morphine.