Hidden Heir (Holy Rebel MC #2)

Chapter 15

When I stir awake, I hear voices.

Margos; "I did the best I could"

Shanks; "then why isn't she fucking up?"

Lynol's; "calm the fuck down and watch how you talk to my old lady, I am so fucking tired of telling you, Shank."

Shanks grunt is his reply.

"Dad? Is mom up? Is she going to be ok?" Comes Shane's small wobbly voice.

I want to open my eyes and smile at Shane, for finally calling shank dad and to assure him that I'm just fine, but my eye lids are heavy as hell and I drift back off into the nothingness we all come from.

Where's Schiz?

"She's up!" I hear Shane shout.

With some effort, I open my eyes to find my son curled into a chair beside where I lay on the bar with a blanket wrapped around him.

I place my hand on his leg. He instantly grabs it with both of his, crying. "Why are you crying, baby?" I ask him.

"I was scared you wouldn't wake up, mom. Like snow white. I tried to get dad to kiss you but he said that probably wouldn't be smart. But you woke up all on your own." He rushes out in one big breath. His brown eyes are huge and shiny.

I laugh, which hurts, and end up groaning.

"He's probably right." I sit up and hop down off the bar, swaying only a little. Shane rushes off his chair to help me. But there's not much a six year old can do.

Shank and Lynol appear with Jewel, Panik, and Whiskey.  I turn and glance at my shoulder in the mirror behind the barn. The bullets still in there but the area was cleaned pretty well.

Well hell. I guess I gotta get this thing out myself. 

I grab a bottle of whatever booze wasn't shattered and chug it. Shank just watches me, mildly surprised.

I slam it back down on the bar and grab my medical bag before ripping off the sleeve of my shirt all the way off. This is gonna hurt.

"Shane, go play." I meet my child's eyes in the mirror. He shakes his head and I raise an eyebrow at him. No?

I look over at Shank and purse my lips. What the hell has he been teaching our son. He shakes his head. "I did not fucking teach him that, Missy. Don't fucking start with me." He warns me.

I turn around to face them all again. Still no sign of schiz. Where the fuck is he? 

"No?" I repeat back at Shane. He shakes his head.

"No. I wanna stay here with you. Keep you safe." He states proudly. I smile.

"Ok. But if you can't handle the blood, then just let me know so Aunt Margo can take you with the other kids." I cave into him.

He nods and I start digging out this bullet in my shoulder.

Shank takes the scalpel and clamps from me and spins my back to face him. Not wanting to argue, I just let him be. I'm sure he's dug out plenty of bullets in his days.

My shoulder burns with pain but I can tell shank is being as gentle as one can be trying to dig into another human. Shane never once looks away, just watches as one parents digs into the other ones flesh. I'm surprised, to be honest. Shane is tougher than he looks. Yeah, he cries. But everyone cries, even if no one else sees them do it.

"Its good, babe. Where's the shit to stitch it." Shank drops the bullet in my palm.

"The bag." I mutter as I stare down at the little thing. The smallest of things can hurt the most.