Chapter 4
833 Words
Scars Innis groaned as his cell vibrated on the hotel bedside table. He cracked one eye open, grimaced at the time.
Fucking ten o’clock. Really?
He stretched out one hand, and fumbled with the phone, cursing at the dull, dusty pounding in his head. Yeah, he was hungover. Again.
“What?” he ground out, his voice rough. “What?”
“Vic?”
Scars fell back on the bed, his muscular forearm covering his blue eyes against the bright late-spring sun. “Sam.”
“You OK?”
“I’m f*****g sleeping, man.”
“It’s ten o’clock.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’ve been up since five, right, Doctor Innis? Saving lives, and being generally awesome?”
“Actually, I haven’t been to bed yet. I’m just leaving the hospital. There was a bad car accident last night, and I pulled a double shift. Nine people died.” Sam paused. “Including a family. Two young kids.”
Scars sighed. “f**k, Sam. I’m sorry. You doing alright?”
His brother gave a shaky laugh, and right away, Scars’ body tightened up. He knew that laugh: it was Sam’s poor attempt to cover up bottomless pits of hurt and helplessness. The accident would have thrown Sam back almost twenty-three years, to that horrible icy night when their parents were killed. Watching those people die right in front of him would have just ripped scabs off old wounds; Scars was certain that his brother had fought like hell to keep those people alive, and the fact that he’d lost them would pierce him deep.
He imagined Sam in his scrubs, his dark eyes deceptively calm behind his glasses, his hands covered with the blood of strangers. He’d have intubated, and sliced, and sewn, and done CPR, and performed surgeries… and in the end, nobody had lived to see the sunrise. Talk about f*****g devastating.
“Sam?” Scars’ voice was gentler now. “You alright?”
“Yeah, I’m OK. I’m just – I’ll be better after I get some sleep, and a hug from Annie and Cindy.” He paused again. “I’m sorry I woke you up… I just needed to talk to you. To hear your voice.”
“It’s fine, man. I’m sorry I shouted at you.”
“Where are you, Vic?”
Scars flinched at the use of his civilian name, but then again, nobody on the whole planet called him that except his kid brother and his niece, so he’d take it from Sam now.
“Not in Denver.” Scars shifted his large body on the bed, winced as his stomach heaved a bit. “Club business.”
“I see.” Sam’s voice was flat. “You’ll be back soon?”
“By tomorrow afternoon. You want to meet up on Sunday? Hang out a bit?”
“Coffee sounds good.”
Scars wished that Sam had said ‘beer’, but for his brother, he’d do coffee. Not before noon, though. Lines had to be drawn somewhere.
“Yeah, OK. Coffee it is.” Scars sat up carefully, wondering if he could handle coffee now, decided to go for it. “Sunday afternoon about three-ish?”
“Yeah. Call me when you get back.”
“I will.”
“Vic?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re being careful, right?”
“Sam, I’ve told you a thousand times: the club’s out of all that shady s**t now.”
Scars paused, and both men passed silent words between them. Sam knew about the bloodbath with The Fallen Angels and Kirk Jensen’s people, knew that Scars and Wolf had been part of the rescue mission to get Ace Cuddy, knew that Wolf had broken his creed to stick to the legal high road, just that once. But Sam had understood that decision – he’d even stood by Scars on that one. The brothers had agreed to never talk about it again – and so they hadn’t and they weren’t. Not out loud, at least. Scars took a breath, got the conversation back on track:
“I’m not doing anything that any other businessman wouldn’t do, Sam. Everything’s on the up-and-up on this one.”
“So what are you doing?”
“I’m meeting with alcohol suppliers for the bar.”
Sam was silent again. “Really?”
“Yeah. Wolf’s unhappy with some of our current suppliers’ delivery times, and he asked me to find a few alternatives.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Scars swung his legs over the side of the bed, waited for his head to stop spinning. “It’s all above-board, I swear to you. Wolf has completely changed the club, and we’re all better off for it.”
“OK.” Sam sighed. “I’m at my car now, so I’ve got to go. Call me, alright? And be safe?”
“I will. To both things. Go get some rest.”
“I will.”
- Writer
