What's Your Poison

8. Brye Gemmell

Jade

"What's your poison?" I leaned an elbow on the bar and gave Rooster an exaggerated wink. My arm slipped when he grunted out a request for whiskey. I rubbed the offended limb and goggled at him.

Rooster rarely drank anything other than beer. The other guys constantly gave him shit for it, but he never budged. What would drive him to choose something like that tonight?

"Are you okay?" I slid the finger of liquid over to him and he stared at it moodily.

Wings slamming into the bar drowned his answer out, shouting for an ambulance. I froze, my heart rate rocketing. Wings slammed his hands on the bar and I could see the knuckles were red and angry.

"I didn't mean to. He just went down hard." Wings tore his hands through his hair. "Fuck! He just kept coming at me."

Iron strode out from the back and everyone followed Wings out. Except for Rooster, who stayed staring at the liquid morosely. I followed in the back, flanked by Mina and the other girls. Mission was lying prone on the ground, a halo of red around his head. I stumbled over my feet, choking hard.

"Mission?" I whispered.

There was a flurry of movement, but my vision narrowed to the man sprawled on the ground. Someone was jostling me, shaking my arm, but I couldn't look away. Mission had drained of color, and barely moved except for the slight hitch of his chest.

As if this wasn't disturbing enough, a prospect burst into the yard and whispered something to Iron that had all the brothers converging on their bikes. Wings grabbed me as he went past, his eyes wild and face tight with remorse.

"Please, take care of him, Jade. I'll be back as soon as I can."

I grabbed onto his leather cut and squeezed.

"What the hell is going on?" I demanded. The club girls were clumped together like a group of deer, jittery and unprotected.

"Club business." He replied obstinately before shaking off my hand and racing to his bike. Frame was crouched by Mission, but he looked up as I approached.

"Get the girls inside and tell them to stay in their rooms. We need someone to go with him to the hospital, but I have to stay here. Can you see who will go?"

I kneeled in the gravel, the pain on my knees like a blessing. Mission was still out of it and my stomach twisted with guilt. I'd toyed with him earlier, purposefully inducing him into a rage. Was that what had him throwing punches with Wings? And what would have every man jumping on his bike and roaring out of here? Unless...

"Has Grey Hogs moved into our territory?" The hair on the back of my neck stood up as Frame hesitated.

"Something like that." He conceded, and I knew he wouldn't tell me anything more. But if it wasn't Grey Hogs in our territory, who was it? I thought of Dixie and the club we were both running from.

Savage Sons. He wouldn't care enough to chase me here? Would he? I shook off my fear.

"I'll go with him to the hospital."

I regretted it the second the words were out of my mouth. But I didn't take them back. There was a lump in my stomach that wouldn't budge, feeling responsible for the man lying on the ground. It didn't lighten the entire ride to the hospital. Mission had gained consciousness for a moment.

"Jayyyde?" He slurred, his hand grappling to entangle with mine. Before he slumped down again, his face sickly white. My stomach continued to churn as they took him away, to stitch up the gash on the back of his head. It wasn't until hours later I saw him again. The doctor in the hospital explaining to me he had a concussion and had to stay overnight for monitoring.