Page 125 of Ruger's Rage
"Your family loves you," Ruger replies. "Never stopped, by the looks of it."
"Thank you for encouraging me to call them. For coming with me tonight."
He lifts my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles. "Anything for you, darlin'. Always."
The club is still lit up when we return, music and laughter spilling out from the joint.
Sadie Jo's party is clearly still going strong.
As we climb out of the truck, I notice Bloodhound standing near the door, phone pressed to his ear, his normally stoic expression cracked with emotion.
"What do you mean 'critical'?" he's saying, voice sharp with stress. "How long has she been?—"
He stops when he sees us, shoulders straightening as he tries to compose himself.
"I'll be there in twenty," he tells whoever is on the phone before hanging up.
He approaches us quickly, something like terror in his eyes as he addresses Ruger. "I have to go. Vanna's in the hospital."
"Who's Vanna?" I ask, confused.
In all the months I've been here, I've never heard him mention this name.
Bloodhound looks me in the eyes, jaw tight. "My ol' lady... she... she's on drugs real bad, has been a while. I... my sister's a nurse there, called because I'm her fuckin' emergency contact and power of attorney. I have to make decisions for her. Fuck!"
The raw pain in his voice is shocking coming from someone normally so controlled.
"I'll go with you," Ruger offers immediately.
Bloodhound shakes his head. "No. Stay with Tildie. Just needed to let you know I'll be gone, don't know how long."
"Are you sure?" I ask. "We could both come. You shouldn't be alone for something like this."
"I've been alone with this shit for years," he says flatly. "Won't be any different tonight."
Ruger grips his Sergeant at Arms's shoulder. "Call if you need anything. Anything at all."
Bloodhound nods once, then strides toward his bike, back rigid with tension.
We watch him roar away, the taillights of his motorcycle fading into the darkness.
"Did you know?" I ask Ruger.
"About Vanna? Yeah." Ruger sighs heavily. "She and Bloodhound were high school sweethearts. Got married young. She got hooked on pills after a car accident, then moved on to harder stuff when the prescriptions ran out."
"That's awful."
"Yeah. He's tried everything—rehab, tough love, bribes, threats. Nothing sticks." He wraps an arm around me, guiding me toward our apartment instead of the party. "Been years since she's been around the club. She comes and goes from his life, usually when she needs money or hits rock bottom."
Knowing all of this makes me view Bloodhound in a new light—his quiet nature, his intense loyalty to the club, his occasional disappearances that no one questions.
"Will she be okay?" I ask as we enter our place, the laughter from the party a distant backdrop now.
"Don't know," Ruger answers honestly. "She's survived overdoses before. But each time..."
He doesn't finish the thought, doesn't need to.
I curl against him on the couch, suddenly grateful for the simple blessing of being healthy, being clean, being here together.