Making Choices (Black Shamrocks MC Book 2) by Kylie Hillman Page B

with her without breaking my stipulations from last night.
    I feel like a pussy, but I need to lean on someone right now.
    One of my brothers was hit by a fucking car this morning, and Princess was snatched.
    Again.
    Sal’s one of our most respected brothers, so the waiting area is crowded with patches and families as we wait to hear whether he’s gonna survive.
    Surrounding us are cops and the fucking media.
    The cops are involved because bystanders called them after the shit went down and Maddi was wrestled against her will into a car in broad fucking daylight. The media are here since they crawl out of the woodwork like fucking cockroaches when it comes to a good outlaw biker story nowadays.
    Their presence is pissing the entire Club off. The atmosphere is tense, a powder keg of frustration and resentment looking for a place to explode. Since scrutiny is the last thing we need with the interest directed at the Club recently, a delicate balance of menace and calm is being maintained.
    For the moment.
    We’re all stuck here, having been ordered by Beast to stay put and wait for the cops to lose interest so we can start digging into what happened properly. We have scouts out—lower-ranking brothers who the cops don’t know as well—asking questions, but we’ve made the presence of the Club’s officers at the hospital known to the cops.
    Beast has decided—without consultation—that it’ll make them back off quicker.
    Our relationship with the authorities has taken a nosedive since Maddi’s fucked-up ex went missing, and his politician father pointed fingers at the Black Shamrocks. It’s all smoke and mirrors and will amount to absolutely fucking nothing since they’ll never find the rapist cunt—his body was fed to the pigs on Beast’s farm months ago, mere hours after Maddi shot and killed him after he raped and beat her again.
    Kid, our Information Officer, walks up to me, nudging me with his shoulder.
    “You keeping an eye on Mad Dog? Looks like he’s about to blow.”
    Gazing over the assembled crowd, I spot Mad Dog sitting in one of the chairs closest to the exit. His phone’s in his hands. I watch him press the green call button before raising it to his ear, a scowl covering his face when he doesn’t get an answer. He stabs at the screen and repeats the same process three more times.
    With each unanswered call, his body shakes harder, and his right leg bounces faster.
    “I’m on it.” I tilt my head toward Beast. “Keep him out of our fucking way.”
    Mad Dog and Beast haven’t seen eye to eye for months, not since the reemergence of Maddi’s ex, and the fallout that followed with the attempted hostile patch over by the Mavericks of Mayhem. As far as I’m concerned, the problem comes down to Beast and his irrational need to put the blame for everything that went wrong on Mad Dog.
    I’m firmly in the expanding anti-Beast camp.
    So far, we’ve managed to keep it from tainting the mood of our brotherhood too much. But I know unless the problem is rectified soon, the fallout is fucking inevitable.
    A Club can’t function with the President and Vice President at each other’s throats.
    And I know who I’m backing if it comes to a head.
    My path to Mad Dog is blocked by a slightly chubby, red-faced woman in scrubs. I attempt to walk around her, but she grabs my wrist, tugging me to a stop.
    I try to yank my arm from her hold, and she digs her nails in to stop me.
    “What the fuck?” I glare at her.
    She shrivels underneath my gaze, her face becoming brighter as she pulls her sharp talons from my skin.
    “I’m Gwen,” she states in a voice designed not to be overheard. Expectation lighting her eyes.
    I don’t know who the fuck she is.
    “So?”
    “I work with JJ.”
    “And?”
    I haven’t been introduced to any of JJ’s colleagues, her family, or her friends. It’s been one of our ongoing arguments, so I haven’t a clue why this woman’s trying to talk to me now like she knows about