“Fuck. I’ll be there soon.”
Slipper glanced at the door behind Cash. “I’ll wait for you. We can go together.”
Suspicion glinted in Slipper’s eyes. Cash gave in to the pressure, deciding to tread with care. He didn’t want to risk Stretch again. Ushering Slipper away would worsen the situation and he’d start to study Cash as Cowboy had Stretch before attacking him.
From time-to-time, rumors about Cash and Stretch circulated in the club. Cash laughed it off—as he laughed most things off. He had Outlaw’s support, but Prez couldn’t be with him at all times.
“You got a beer I can sip on while I wait?”
“Yeah. Go look in the refrigerator. Give me five minutes to get my keys and ID.” He paused at his short hallway. “Slipper?”
“Yeah?”
“Next time you walk the fuck in my house uninvited, you might fucking end up with a bullet between the eyes.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, brother,” Slipper said around a chuckle.
Returning to his bedroom, Cash slammed the door shut and turned the lock on the knob.
Stretch sat up, the sheet falling around his waist. “Is he—?”
Glaring, Cash shook his head and finished dressing. “Don’t leave immediately,” he advised in a low voice. “Slipper might have someone watching my place to verify my story.”
Stretch glanced toward the door, his hands trembling. His face clouded over, but Cash ignored the urge to comfort him.
Stealing a quick kiss from Stretch, Cash grabbed his keys and wallet, then headed for his bedroom door, half expecting to find Slipper loitering just beyond. Instead, the man was leaning against his kitchen counter, finishing off a beer.
“Let’s ride, motherfucker.” Cash forced a lightness into his voice that he didn’t feel. Ophelia’s injuries would call for solemnity, but if Cash gave in, he wouldn’t be able to reel it in.
Therefore, he did what he was best at by pretending to handle whatever he faced by rolling with the flow.
Stretch remained in Cash’s bed for the next half hour, listening for sounds and waiting for Slipper to return. As time ticked away and nothing happened, Stretch’s fear eased.
He glanced at his damaged leg. If he hadn’t been in such an upheaval over Fee, he would’ve been as self-conscious as always. There was no time for recriminations, blame, or dread. Fee needed him, as much as he’d needed her during his father’s funeral, when she’d turned into his warrior princess.
Standing, he limped to where he’d thrown his clothes aside and picked up his T-shirt, the white recolored with Fee’s blood. Seeing the dried crimson sent tears to Stretch’s eyes. Clutching it to his chest, he bowed his head, images of Fee and Hanson blurring in his mind. Instead of losing himself, he needed to school his emotions and get to the hospital.
A sound reached his ears. Footsteps.
Too late, he spotted his gun. The bedroom door pushed open. Shit! He had absolutely no excuse for being in Cash’s bedroom, buck ass naked, crying like a girl. He was fucking done for.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he reconciled his fate in his brain.
“Fuck, son, I thought you’d be fucking dressed by now.”
At Mort’s grumble, Stretch opened his eyes, in time to see the enforcer’s dreads swinging as he turned around.
“He still here?” Val peeped into the room and scowled at Stretch’s nudity.
He cleared his throat, his heart settling. “You’ve seen me naked before. At parties. Before you all married.”
“This shit different,” Mort pointed out. “Don’t have nothing against what you do, brother. It’s just knowing why you in Cash’s bedroom with your dick swinging.”
“Yeah,” Val agreed. “Images and all.”
“Why are you here?” The slight wobble in his voice indicated Stretch wasn’t as collected as he’d believed at hearing Mort and Val.
“Cash,” Mort said. “He wanted you to use us if the need arose, so get dressed and let’s blaze out.”
“Okay,” Stretch agreed, hurrying to Cash’s closet and picking out a white T-shirt and a pair of jeans, something generic and unidentifiable as a piece of clothing Cash wore.
“You can turn around,” Stretch said, once he dressed.
Facing Stretch, Mort stepped aside and allowed Val entry.
“We checked the neighborhood,” Val told him. “CSU still at the scene at the house where Fee was messed up.”
“Is she…?”
“She clinging to life,” Mort said. “Prez fucking furious. If Meggie wasn’t with him, he’d probably end up in jail.”
Val nodded. “Seeing Zoann so broken up not helping Outlaw.”
“Nor the fact that three of his sisters were murdered,” Mort added.
Shrugging into his cut and doing his best to ignore the crusted blood on it, Stretch busied himself with finding his keys and wallet, in an effort to keep his expression neutral. “I’m needed at the hospital? Or can I start searching for the motherfucker who hurt Prez’s sister?”
“You needed there,” Mort said. “We are, too. Slipper was watching Cash like a fucking hawk, so he couldn’t break away and call you. He sent us fucking texts. We had to blaze here for fucking surveillance. Couldn’t have you walking the fuck out and have motherfuckers waiting for your ass.”
Stretch gave a half-smile. “Thanks, brother.”
“We got your back,” Mort assured him, turning and walking out the room so they could head back to the hospital.
Cash couldn’t shake Slipper and his scrutiny. Maybe, it was a good thing. It allowed him to focus on his surroundings and narrow-minded motherfuckers.
“Ghost,” Outlaw called, shocking Cash. For the first time in weeks, his road name was being used.
Cash didn’t know why Outlaw had stopped referring to him as Ghost, and hadn’t bothered to ask. He enjoyed separate identities.
“How’s Fee?” he asked, walking to where Outlaw sat with Johnnie, Digger, Slipper and sons, and Potter.
On the other side of the room, Meggie and Zoann spoke quietly, their devastation hard to miss.
“Is Fee…?” No! She wasn’t dead. Outlaw wouldn’t be sitting so calmly.
Cash reminded himself he couldn’t show any emotion. That, beyond concern as Prez’s brother, he couldn’t demand answers or go ape-shit tearing this motherfucking town apart, searching for Noah. At least, until Outlaw gave the order.
Outlaw scrubbed a hand over his face. He looked, haggard, angry, and helpless. As Fee’s big brother, he’d want to protect her.
Cash identified. He’d wanted the best for Georgie. The times he’d gotten the calls about her various hospital stays, Cash not only felt tired and helpless, but guilty. He’d left Georgie to her own devices. Josh had, too, and they both had the nerve to pass judgment on Abby Mason. The woman had followed her heart. That was more than he could say for any of them.
She’d stuck by Parnell. She’d stuck by Georgie, when none of them had. It hadn’t been anyone’s responsibility to look after his little sister, except their parents. Unfortunately, shit-for-brains made shit-for-parents.
So, yes, Cash knew how Outlaw felt.
Cash looked at his watch, wondering how long it would take for Stretch to arrive. He also hoped Val and Mort hadn’t run into problems.
“How’s Fee?” he asked no one in particular, since Outlaw hadn’t answered.
“In surgery,” Johnnie said, his face devoid of expression, the monster inside of him unleashed. The motherfucker had to take a back seat to Cash. He might not be able to openly show his worry, but he intended to show his rage. All in the name of brotherhood, of course.
“She bad off,” Digger told him, the one ally amongst them in his relationship with Fee. His public service announcement warning Cash away…had that only been several months ago?
Now…now…FUCK!
Cash stood, anger and desperation nauseating him. She couldn’t fucking die. Not his Fee. The time they’d spent in Kansas
City—the time that spurred her to demand more—hit him in the center of his chest.
He’d been such a fucking asshole.
Stumbling to the hallway, Cash leaned against the wall and covered his face. He’d told Stretch to school his emotion, always the arrogant motherfucker. Someone should’ve warned him. Worse, he couldn’t seek Stretch’s comfort. He had to deal on his own and pretend the thought of Fee dying didn’t shatter him.
As much as Hanson’s death had ruined Stretch. He’d faulted himself, having no other outlet for his grief. Unless he’d decided to leave the club, he would’ve lost his life if he’d admitted to the reason he was so broken.
“Cash?”
Zoann’s voice made Cash lift his head to find her and Meggie in front of him.
He straightened and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Hey, Sweetness,” he greeted, plastering a smile on his face. “Zoann.”
She rubbed his arm. “My sister’s strong. She’s going to pull through.”
He wanted to come back with a smart-ass comment, something questioning why she’d singled him out. Hadn’t he broken it off to hide their relationship? But Zoann was offering him comfort. As if she knew. Unable to pretend, he nodded.
“Oh, Cash,” Meggie whispered, standing on tiptoe to hug him.
“She can’t die,” he said on a swallow.
“She won’t.”
“No, she won’t,” Zoann said, sharper than Meggie. “If you believe otherwise, I’ll kick your ass here and now.”
He gave a watery laugh, not moving when Meggie thumbed his cheek. His tear horrified him. Then it dawned on him and he sighed. “You told Zoann about us, Meggie.”
“Fee told her.” Meggie released him with a kiss to his cheek. “I’d never betray you. That’s your story to tell. Not mine.”
Zoann nodded. “Fee loves you and Stretch.”
Cash clamped his jaw, refusing to admit his own feelings. If he lost her after admitting…No!
“She’s moved on,” he said. To a motherfucker who’d shortly be dead but that was neither here nor there.
“You left her no choice,” Zoann reminded him.
“Outlaw would…”
“Beat you for disobeying him,” Meggie stated, “but as long as Fee was happy, he’d come around.”
“You’d have to give up the Bobs.”
He winced at Zoann’s statement. He couldn’t believe he’d told his mother about those women.
“You’d have to show me, Christopher, and Johnnie that you’re worthy of Fee and Stretch,” she continued.
More in control of himself, he scowled at her. “No one interfered with you and Val.”
“You aren’t Val,” Zoann shot back. “You’re a good, decent man but I had a hand in how my relationship played out. You rejected my sister.”
“No arguing,” Meggie instructed, backing away. “Let’s go back to the waiting room before Christopher comes searching for me.”
“You’re right,” Zoann agreed and turned to leave.
“Zoann?” Cash called as Meggie kept walking.
“Yes?”
“You don’t care that Fee would be with me and Stretch?”
“No. I would care if she was with you and another woman.” She smirked at him. “My little sister being with two hot guys, both sexy bikers, will get no complaints from me, as long as they treat her right.”
Cash grinned at Zoann’s saucy tone, seeing her in a new light. Maybe, it was time he really got to know these women, instead of indulging them on his whim.
All in good time. First, Fee had to survive so he could show her all that he had to offer.
After returning from checking on Cash a little while ago, Megan and Zoann once again sat next to each other on the other side of the waiting room, their eyes and noses red from their crying. Megan had changed out of the red jumpsuit she’d worn earlier today to Christopher’s doctor’s appointment…Fuck, between then and now seemed like a different lifetime.
Digger’s phone rang and he pulled it from his cut. “That’s Bunny,” he announced, standing and going to a seat along the back wall for privacy.
Slipper glanced around, his greasy hair hanging limply around his shoulders. “Where’s Stretch? He hasn’t shown up yet.”
Johnnie frowned. “So?”
“Yeah, what the fuck you fuckin’ gettin’ at?” Christopher demanded.
“Nothing,” Slipper said. “It’s just that when I went to get Ghost, Stretch’s bike was in front of his door. He said he didn’t know where Stretch was, but I heard him talking to someone when he went to put his clothes on.”
Fuck this motherfucker.
Cash bristled. “Meaning?”
Christopher glared at Cash. “Fuck all.”
With the way Slipper laid it all out, it wasn’t hard to guess the truth.
“Listen up, Slipper. I ain’t havin’ fuckin’ poisonous ideas pollutin’ my fuckin’ club. If you insinuatin’ what the fuck I think you is, think the fuck again. The motherfucker who fucked up Fee lived a block and a fuckin’ half away from Cash. My ass sent Stretch to Noah house and Stretch probably fuckin’ parked his ride at Cash to sneak the fuck up on Noah.”
“A block and a half?” one of Slipper’s sons question. “Could Stretch walk that far with his gimp leg?”
Slipper’s second son snickered. “The motherfucker a pansy-assed bitch. Don’t belong in a club with real fucking men.”
“You got one fuckin’ more time to open your fuckin’ mouth about this and I’m fuckin’ you up, motherfucker,” Christopher snarled, his voice capturing Megan’s attention.
She glanced uneasily toward the still-empty hallway. While the ER was busy in these early morning hours, they’d been escorted to a third floor outpatient waiting room, deserted in the middle of the night. However, that didn’t mean some motherfucker might not be roaming by, if only to search for one of them.
“Anyone need coffee?” she asked, at Christopher’s side in a heartbeat, and ruffling her fingers through his hair. She placed a kiss at his temple and he wrapped an arm around her waist. “Me and Zoann could find some. You and Orange could come with us, Fritz,” she said to Slipper’s sons.
“No,” Christopher said. “You want fuckin’ coffee, these motherfuckers go a-fuckin-lone, Megan. Ain’t havin’ you or Bitsy goin’ fuckin’ nowhere ‘til I get my fuckin’ hands on Noah.”
She groaned.
“They can’t go on lockdown, Christopher,” Johnnie argued. “They have a business to run. Remember?”
Fuck the business. He wasn’t risking Megan. They’d just have to start something else. Christopher opened his mouth to announce his decision.
“Everything will be fine, Christopher,” Megan interrupted. “Let’s not worry about anything else but Fee right now.”
“Hey Puff,” Val greeted, walking into the room and heading straight for Zoann.
Stretch and Mortician followed close behind, drawing everyone’s attention thanks to the way Slipper had called the situation out. Noting how Cash stiffened and scowled at Slipper, Megan whispered, “Let me get them out of here before Slipper insinuates something about Stretch, and Cash loses it.”
Irritation surged into Christopher. “Ain’t no insinuation, baby,” he whispered back. “They was probably fucking and Slipper know. Or almost caught them, since I sent his ass to get Cash.”
“Please?” she pressed. “Cash is really protective towards Stretch. It can get really bad. Let me diffuse this.”
“Fuck. Fine,” Christopher growled.
She gave him another quick kiss, then turned to Cash.
“Can you come with me for a minute? You too, Johnnie.”
John Boy lifted a brow, but rose without hesitation, following her to the door, where she paused and pulled out her phone. She frowned at the screen, and Christopher recognized it for the ploy that it was. “Shoot, Mort, Val, and Stretch, you come, too.”
Christopher would have to impress upon Cash to be more fucking
careful. Otherwise, they’d have another bloodbath on their hands and, this time, Christopher might not be around to save them.
“Why we here, Meggie girl?” Mort asked as Meggie led them out of the waiting room and to a nearby stairwell.
Stretch couldn’t imagine why she’d escorted them to this landing to do nothing but lean against the wall and frown between him and Cash. Looking at Cash, Stretch got no indication as to Meggie’s intentions. Her fucking sigh didn’t clue them in either.
“What’s up, sweetheart?” Johnnie asked, at peace with her again.
“There are idiots lurking,” she answered, sadness softening her words. She and Fee were close. After losing so many people, she might lose another. Only this loss would affect Stretch as much or worse. “I couldn’t single Cash and Stretch out. I mean there’s been enough bloodshed. The minute Stretch walked in, Slipper, Fritz, and Orange honed in. They’re idiots. We all know it, but your expression said a lot, Cash. We aren’t thinking of hiding our feelings, right now, so it was just easier to get you out of there.”
Her words touched a nerve in Stretch, already scraped raw by all that had happened. “Maybe leave the club too, huh, Meggie? At least that’s how Kendall feels.”
Johnnie growled, but Mort placed a hand on his shoulder and nodded to Meggie, who glared at Stretch. She’d grown up, learned to hold her own. She needed neither Outlaw or John Boy to defend her.
“I don’t feel that way, Stretch,” she snapped. “If I did, I’d tell you nor would I go through the trouble of attempting to protect you.”
“My wife had a point.”
Johnnie’s cool words felt like a betrayal. If Stretch could count on anyone, he always thought it was the men with him. “Thanks a fucking lot, John Boy.”
Folding his arms, Cash leaned against the wall. “I understand what Johnnie’s saying, Stretch. With all the discrimination, a biker club’s the worst place in the world for us to be. If we can’t hide our feelings, then we don’t need to be here.”
Mort clapped Stretch’s back. “You always been a quiet motherfucker. Kind of gentle. Since all that shit went down, you just not been the same, brother. Otherwise, you’d understand the meaning behind Johnnie’s words.”
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 340