Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
I want to yell, throw something, fuck somebody up, but I can’t do anything.
Will someone please shut that fucking beeping noise off?
Slowly, I think, Am I in the hospital?
Hospital. Why would I be in any medical facility?
I blink finally. My eyes slowly focus on a tiled ceiling above me. A few of the tiles are stained from age and perhaps an old leak. The lighting is dim, and I’m conscious enough to be grateful for that.
Shifting my gaze, I see a TV is on but muted, and an oversized dry erase board is directly underneath it with the words “My Care Board.”
I am in a hospital. And according to the neat, blue handwriting on the board, my nurse’s name is Dorothy.
I try to look down, but I’m held immobile.
I groan in frustration.
“Hammer, chill. Let me get the nurse,” a voice calls out to me, a familiar voice. Who is here?
When a man comes to stand over me, his eyes call to me. As if in rewind, everything flashes in my head.
Mission.
Regulators MC.
Our team.
We are undercover as outlaw bikers, but we aren’t outlaws. We take down the criminals.
By any means necessary.
I took an oath. Brett ‘Ice’ Grady, my club prez, he took it, too. We are in this together.
The girls. Did we get the girls?
I twist my face in discomfort as so many questions for why I’m in this bed race through my mind.
My brother Evan comes over and grips my hand. “The nurse is coming. She’ll get the neck brace off and untie your hands. You’ve sustained a serious injury and had surgery. They didn’t want you to wake up in a panic. They need to know you’re calm in order to take all this stuff off.”
I give him a small nod.
My mouth is dry. My tongue feels like sandpaper. I need water. This is worse than any mission we faced in the desert when we had to ration our water.
I smack my lips loudly then hear one of the guys laugh.
Evan holds an ice cube over my lips and runs it across the seam.
Ice chips! Seriously, I’m an injured man, and these fuckers tease me with one fucking piece of ice?
My face must show my annoyance because Evan smiles.
“Hang in there. Once they clear you, they will give you more options. Go slowly this time, brother.”
A nurse comes in and removes my neck brace as she rambles off my bland diet and the step by step process of building me to solids. She puts some medication in my IV without a second thought, as if this is all second nature to her. Well, it may be for her, but for me, being helpless like this is a torture worse than any terrorist could ever give me.
After she releases my wrists, I happily move my arms and twist my head to the obnoxious machine keeping up with my heart beat, blood pressure, and oxygen rate.
“Mr. McCoy, the doctor will be in shortly to go over your injuries with you. Until then, I imagine your mouth is dry. As I stated previously, at this time, you can only have ice chips to give you some moisture.”
I nod my understanding as I take a mental assessment of my body. My legs. The pain is from my lower half.
I’m starting to move the blanket when Evan’s firm hand comes down to stop me. He shakes his head, and I lay my head back against the pillow in frustration.
A few moments later, a silver-haired doctor enters my room and begins his assessment.
“Mr. McCoy,” he begins in his obnoxiously high-pitched voice that only grates on my nerves further. “You suffered superficial lacerations and quite a bit of bruising. After x-rays, we found you had an intertrochanteric fracture, which in simple terms, means you have a severe hip fracture between the neck of your femur and the lower jutting bone we call the lesser trochanter. The lesser trochanter is important because it serves as an attachment point for a vital muscle in your hip. This sort of fracture can cause life-threatening complications.
“You underwent an extensive surgery to repair the damage to your hips and the torn muscle. We had to insert a compression hip screw to secure your hip bones back into proper placement. It is my understanding you were hit by a car that pinned you to a concrete wall. From the way you came in and the damage inside, honestly, Mr. McCoy, you’re lucky to be alive and that we were able to repair your hip at all. If, after physical therapy, you are still unable to walk, we might have to go back in and give you a complete hip replacement. You have a long road ahead of you, but you are young, fit, and healthy, so it looks promising for you to walk again.”