by Monroe, Evie
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Drake
Slade was sitting directly in front of Cait now, his back to me, and he kept moving around, so I couldn’t get off a good shot without possibly hitting one of the women, too. He kept slipping out of view. I stood there for a few minutes, and each time I thought I had him, he’d move.
If I’d had Jet with me, or one of the other guys, this would’ve been over by now. My brothers were always more courageous when it came to taking someone out. Me? I was careful. Probably because I’d studied in med school all the damage a single bullet could do to the human body.
The wind had stilled, and the night had turned infernally hot. I sucked in a breath, wiped the sweat from my eyes. I focused in on the back of Slade’s head. I wanted to get one clean shot, because I didn’t want him to have the ability to retaliate and shoot either of the girls.
Cait was doing a good job at buying time. She was getting him off his guard, too. His posture had loosened, and his voice had softened.
Then, without warning, he reached out, grabbed the back of Cait’s ponytail, and pulled her to her feet. He spat in her ear something about her being a traitor.
Shit.
I needed to act now. I got a clear shot, right at his head, when I heard the sound of bikes pulling up. Through the side door, I caught a glimpse of Cullen and Jet. Great, they got the text.
They’d all come to back me up. I let out a curse under my breath as Slade stilled, hearing the commotion outside. His eyes trailed to the front of the house, and then landed on me. He yanked Cait to him as a shield and fired a round. Roxanne screamed. Pain rocketed through my shoulder.
I stormed forward and took Roxanne’s arm, pulling her up. “Cait. Come on!” I shouted, shoving Roxanne into the living room. We dove behind a couch as I heard the rest of the Cobras yelling outside. When I looked up, I realized that Cait hadn’t gotten away. Slade had her locked in his arms. I pointed my gun over the top of the sofa, directly at his head, but now Cait was his shield. “Slade. It’s over. Let her go or you’re dead!”
Right then, the Cobras slammed into the front and side doors, waving their guns. “Let her go, Slade!” Cullen called, advancing through the living room.
Slade laughed and pointed the gun at her temple again. But Cait was right. He wouldn’t shoot his daughter.
Instead, he quickly turned the gun on the Cobras and started to shoot, wildly, like this was his last stand and he knew it. I knew the son of a bitch would go out laughing.
Before he could get far, though, Cullen got off a shot, hitting him straight between the eyes. As he slumped, letting go of Cait, she disentangled herself from him and ran to me. I took her in my arms as the men went over to Slade’s body.
Roxanne, frantically sobbing, repeated, “Is he dead? Is he dead?”
I nodded and pushed Cait’s hair out of her eyes. “Are you all right?”
She barely nodded, she was so dazed. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe he’s . . .”
She couldn’t say the word.
I lifted her chin up and gazed at her, rubbing the dried blood from her chin. Her cheek was swollen. “You all right?”
But she just trembled, unable to speak. She was going into shock. I reached for a blanket off the sofa and wrapped it around her, then looked at her mom. “You all right?”
She nodded, hugging herself. “Is he dead? Is my husband dead?”
“Yeah. He is,” I said somberly, as she wrapped her arms around her daughter.
Suddenly I heard a commotion in the living room. It was Nix. “Shit. Jet. Shit. Hold tight.”
I sprang to my feet and saw Jet, lying in the center of the living room. He’d taken a bullet in the stomach, and blood was seeping out of the massive wound onto the carpet. His face was pale, and he was breathing in rasps. He coughed, which ended up coming out as a weak laugh. “This . . . fucking . . . sucks,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Shit,” I said, diving over the couch and crouching over him. “Jet. Don’t talk. Listen to me. Stay here. You’re going to be okay.”
“Where’s your kit?” he said. He had to have meant it as a joke. I didn’t have anything in my kit that could take care of this. He needed to get to the hospital.
He let out a gurgling noise and his head fell back. His eyes closed.
I turned to see all the other Cobras standing over him. “Fuck!” I said, falling back on my backside and vising my head in my hands. Jet was the king of drama, but he was in bad shape. You didn’t have to be a doctor to see that. Yeah, he could be a pain in the ass, but he was my best friend. And if anything happened to him . . . fuck.
“Call 911,” Roxanne said behind me, covering her mouth with both hands. “Oh, my God.” Cait hugged her tight, and they sobbed together.
I took his piece from his hand and pocketed it. “Come on!” I called to the other guys, who were standing around, watching Jet die. “We’ve got to get him to a hospital. Let’s go.”
Police sirens began to wail outside, and Cullen sprang into action. “All right, guys. We can’t be here. Here’s what we’re going to do.”
Chapter Thirty
Caitlyn
Everything happened so fast after my father was shot.
I remembered things in glimpses. My father grabbing my hair and wrenching me off of the chair. Screaming for Drake. Cobras swarming around my home. My father refusing to shoot me, then falling to the ground, a bleeding hole in his forehead. My mother screaming as we hid behind the couch.
Afterward, we had to get out of the house, fast.
It wasn’t until my mother and I were in Mom’s car, speeding toward the clubhouse with Drake at the wheel, that it sank in. Drake was sitting in the seat my father usually occupied whenever we would go places together as a family. Not that that had happened much recently.
And now it would never happen again. I’d never see my father in that seat or passed out on the couch with beers littering the coffee table or yelling at my mother. I’d never worry what state my mother would be in when I came home, or whether I’d get a smack across the face for being too smart. I’d never have to make sure I made curfew or cover my tracks or live in absolute fear of what was going to happen when I stepped in my front door.
My father was dead.
I was free.
We were free.
My mother was sobbing, but I felt numb. My father, my stupid father . . . he’d brought this on himself. There was one little piece of consolation that I clung to, that showed me that maybe there was still a little bit of good in him. When it came down to it, he couldn’t kill me, and that was what had gotten him killed in the end.
I wiped a tear from my eye. I didn’t want to cry anymore. I wanted to be happy. I peeked over at Drake, who had one hand on my knee, one hand wrapped rigidly around the steering wheel. He made me happy. Happier than I’d been even as a little girl.
It was only then that I realized his shoulder was bleeding heavily. I nudged aside his jacket. His t-shirt was drenched with blood. “Oh, my God. Slade shot you?”
He looked down at it without interest and shrugged. “Just a nick.”
I’d seen nicks before, and that surely wasn’t one of them. But I got the feeling Drake was a little numb, too. It was all chaos, trying to escape the house before the police came. We’d all scrambled in different directions. The last we’d seen of his best friend, two of his brothers were carrying him out of the house. He was pale and motionless. I hated to think it, but he’d looked dead. “Are they going to take Jet to the hospital?”
He nodded. “Yeah. They have to. There’s nothing I can do for him myself.”
“You think he’s going to . . .” I asked, trailing off because I didn’t want to say the word die in his presence. “Be all right?”
His eyes trailed to the gun in the cup holder. Jet’s gun. He’d taken it from Jet as he lay there, dying. He let out a large breath of air. “I don’t know. Fuck!” He suddenly pounded on the steering whe
el. “If I’d just shot Slade when I first got there, this wouldn’t have happened. I was trying to get the perfect shot. I didn’t want to . . .”
He shook his head like it didn’t matter, but I knew what he was going to say, and it meant everything to me. This man, this wonderful man didn’t want to hurt us. And that was everything. After all those years of living in fear, he’d freed us, this beautiful, wonderful man that I was absolutely crazy about. I didn’t think it was possible to want anyone as much as I wanted him, right then. I put a hand on the back of his neck, massaging his tense muscles. “You saved us, Drake.”
He shook his head. “Not me. Cullen shot him. I should have. I just couldn’t get the right shot. But if I’d taken the chance, then Jet wouldn’t be dying. Jesus. He might already be dead.”
“He’ll pull through,” I said to soothe him, though I really didn’t know.
“I’m not going to make the same mistake, again, Cait. This is war, and I’m not going to pause or think next time. If they’re Fury, I’ll shoot first, ask questions later. They’ve fucked with the wrong man.” He hung his head and banged the heel of his hand into the steering wheel again. “Jesus. Jet. Fuck. You know, he was the first guy I met when I was thinking about being part of the Cobras. He got me into it. He was only twenty-two, cocky son-of-a-bitch. But he treated me like a brother, right from the start.”
My heart broke for him. He looked so miserable. Sure, Jet hadn’t been the nicest of guys to me, but that was all forgotten the second he came rushing in to back Drake up. Like Drake said, he was loyal. All of his brothers were loyal and would take bullets for each other, and the people they loved.
“I love you,” I said softly to him.
He managed a smile and squeezed my thigh. “I love you, too.”
He pulled us into the clubhouse. We got out of the car and went inside. Cullen and another Cobra whose name I wasn’t sure of was there. They were already drinking beers, but it wasn’t a celebration. The tension was so thick, it nearly smothered me.
The other guy passed a set of keys over to Drake. “Brought your bike back.”
“Thanks.” Drake picked them up and put them in his pocket. Then he raked his hands through his hair. “We’re in deep shit, now.”
Cullen said, “We’ve got to be ready. They’re gonna come after us. We’ve killed their president and burned down their clubhouse.” He looked at me and my mother. “You okay?”
We nodded in unison.
He gave Drake a nod and said, “You should take them to your place. They’re not safe here for long.”
Drake pulled off his jacket to reveal his blood-splattered white t-shirt. He peeled that off as well. “In a minute. Let me just clean this up before we go.”
I helped my mother onto the couch and turned on the television to keep her company. She was still wearing her slippers and pink robe, her crazy, curly hair sprouting out in all directions, wearing face cream, which is what she always used to do to look nice for Slade. Not that he’d ever noticed. “If you want to rest here,” I told her. “You can. You’re safe here. The Cobras will take care of us.”
She looked like she was swallowing nails. “How do you know?”
“Because I trust Drake. He won’t hurt us, Mom. I promise you.” I gave her a kiss on the cheek and went to where the men were pacing, looking wired and anxious.
Drake had cracked open his own beer and had nearly finished the whole thing in one gulp. He went to get his kit and I reached for it. “Let me clean it up for you. It’s the least I can do.”
He held up his hands in surrender and sat down at the table.
I sat beside him, so close to his perfect chest, wondering if I would even have close to the bedside manner he had. This wasn’t just a blister. The bullet had just grazed him, but it’d torn a chunk of flesh from his shoulder and was bleeding a lot. I inspected it, then took out a disposable washcloth, and started to go to the sink. “Antiseptic,” he said, pointing into his kit. He pulled a white bottle out and handed it to me. “Here.”
I gnawed on my lip as I read the label. “Won’t that burn?”
“Just fucking do it,” he said, gritting his teeth.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to hurt him, not after what he’d done for me, and the fragile state he was in. This was almost pure alcohol. Maybe he thought he deserved the pain, after what happened to Jet. But it wasn’t his fault. I wet the washcloth with the antiseptic and gently dabbed it on. He winced. I dabbed a little more, hoping I wouldn’t’ have to do it for very long. I’d never make a good doctor.
Cullen had lit a cigarette and left the pack on the table. As I continued to dab at the bloody wound, Drake reached over, banged the pack on the table to loosen one, and put it in his mouth. I’d never seen him smoke before. But I guess he had good reason.
Cullen came over, pulled out his lighter and lit it for him, then looked at the injury. “Ain’t too bad.”
Not bad? It looked terrible to me. “You might need stitches,” I said, still dabbing. It wouldn’t quit bleeding.
Drake shook his head. “I don’t. Just . . . the gauze is . . .”
“Quit trying to be doctor and just be the patient, for once,” I told him as he shakily took a drag from the cigarette and exhaled a stream of smoke. He gazed at me, his muscular chest heaving as he watched my handiwork. It was a little intimidating, a little distracting, with all of his hard, hot beauty on full display, but I managed to put on the gauze and tape it up. “That okay?”
He nodded. Then he leaned over, elbows on his knees, staring at the ground for a long time. “Fuck. This night,” he breathed out, his chest heaving, his shoulders arching, every sculpted, muscle of his back rigid. He sat up and looked at me, and his voice was softer. “How are you?”
I shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”
The other two men were on the other side of the table, talking softly, deep in conversation. I heard the word Fury, so I assumed they were strategizing. I thought Drake might want to be involved, but his attention was all on me. He put his hand in the medical kit and brought out one of those ice packs. He banged it on the table, wrapped it in a cloth, and brought it to the side of my cheek. “Keep this here.”
“I don’t need that.”
“It’s swollen, and you do,” he said authoritatively.
“Yes, doctor.” I gave him a shy smile.
He reached a finger out, hooked it under my skirt, and dragged me toward him, sitting me on his lap. I loved the way his big, warm body enveloped me. He leaned in, burying his face in my neck, smelling me. His tongue darted out and licked at my ear. “I’m going to make sure you’re better than okay, Cait. I’m going to make sure you never have to worry about the Fury again. None of us will. This may be war, but you don’t have to be afraid, Okay?”
I swallowed, as it hit me. “You think my father’s men will come after me? Because of what I did?”
He nodded. “They’ll come after us. For what we did. We’re a team now. But they won’t get us. I promise you. I will keep you safe.”
I touched his face, pushing his hair back, and kissed his jaw lightly. “I know. I trust you, Drake.”
He traced my lips with his finger. “You’re hot. You know that?”
“I’m filthy.”
“I may never let you wear panties again,” he whispered in my ear.
I nearly snorted at him. In fact, I did, but it turned into a yawn because it was after three in the morning. I looked down at myself. I was wearing the one and only outfit I’d ever worn around him, and it was beginning to grow legs, so it could walk on its own. My hair was a mess, and I felt greasy and tired and awful. “You’re insane. You know that?”
He nodded, conceding, staring at my lips like he was contemplating whether he wanted to kiss or lick them as he lightly stroked them with his calloused fingertip. “I’ve been told that, from time to time.”
I smiled at him, bumping my head up against his as I snuggled into him. “If I wanted to get rid of my tattoo .
. . the one on my back . . . would you come with me?”
“Hell yes. We’re a team, right? I’ll go everywhere with you,” he said, and I kissed his temple.
I couldn’t wait to remove that branding. I wanted to wear a new branding now. One that spoke of the man I owed everything to. “Maybe they can change it into a cobra,” I said. “Then I can match you.”
He laughed, low and sexy. “You do what you want. The only place I care about being marked for me is right here,” he said, touching my heart.
“Oh, it is. It definitely is.”
“Good. Then we do match. Because you’ve marked me, too.”
I sighed against him, wishing I could show him just how much he meant to me. Cradled in his big arms, I felt safe. One hand warm on my thigh, he cupped my chin with his other, lifting my mouth to his. He licked at the seam of my lips, coaxing them open, and kissed me gently. I didn’t think I’d like the taste of cigarettes, but I liked everything that this man did to me. It wasn’t possible for him to taste bad. I let his tongue into my mouth, twining it with mine, feeling the goosebumps that only Drake could give me as the kiss deepened and he slipped his hand between my thighs.
I was so wild about him, I didn’t care who was near. He made me absolutely insane with desire. I’d never known much about lust, but this was even better. Because there was love, too. So much love. I absolutely, one-hundred percent, adored this man. And I knew he felt the same way about me.
I rested my hand on his stubble-coated jaw and kissed him with everything I had, hard and deep, as the words floated to our ears across the table. “Yo, guys, get a room.”
We broke apart to see the two Cobras staring at us, grinning in amusement. He leaned in, breathless, lightly setting his lips on mine again, and murmured, “That’s a good idea. Ready to get out of here and go home?”
I shook my head, thinking of my childhood home. It was wrecked now, full of bullet holes and blood. But for so long it had been a place of sadness. I didn’t want to go back there, ever. “But I don’t have a home anymore.”