What the fuck…
Her morbid comment rocks my entire world.
I know she doesn’t mean it. She can’t. She has her sisters.
She’s off-kilter.
Bay just shot a girl to death, one who used to be a friend, and I’m still unaware of why or what happened. She’s getting involved in situations she shouldn’t be in, but she’s quick to react.
And it’s both a good and bad thing.
“I’m not gonna allow that, Little T,” I mutter, my voice a bit frazzled and concerned. “You can’t leave me.”
Another wrecked weeping sound leaves her body, and I grab her head, steering her into my chest before wrapping my arms around her frame.
“C’mon, baby…he’s not gonna want you to cry. He wouldn’t want you to be like this.”
“I love him,” she wails into my sternum, tightly clenching the fabric of my tee. “I’m…n—never gonna…get him back. He’s…gone. I…never…got to say…goodbye…”
My palm wraps tighter around the back of her skull, and I feel everyone’s focus on us. How we are together. How much I’d give anything to take this pain away.
“I know,” I coo, softly brushing at her dark hair. “I’m sorry, Bay. I wish I… I don’t want you to suffer like this.”
Looking over to Ozzy, I jerk my head for him to come closer. He does, silent as the dead, and the fucked-up analogy isn’t lost on me. He wants to hold her like I am, but it’s his past fears freezing him to his spot.
“We need to get rid of this body,” I say to no one in particular. “I know a place.” Oz gives me a nod, and I press my cheek against the top of Bay’s head and inhale a deep breath. “I gotta go, Little T. I need to go handle—” Her fingers wrap tightly around my shirt as she buries her face deeper in my chest, cutting off my words entirely.
I want to stay with her.
I’m fully aware she needs the comfort, but I don’t want her to see me bury a body. How I’m literally going to toss a woman into a shallow grave and quickly cover it.
“Can you go with Ozzy?”
It takes a couple of seconds before Bay is bobbing her head and attempting to pry away from me, but I cup her face in both my hands and tilt it up to look at me.
Those blue eyes are stacked with sorrow. I’ve never seen her look so fucking lost and broken since I’ve known her.
She’ll get through this.
She has no other choice. Nonetheless, it doesn’t make it suck any less.
“He doesn’t live past this week,” I promise. “You have my word, Little Terror. He’s dead.”
Something passes across her features I can’t read, and I desperately want to know what it is.
But here and now, when I have blood spilled yards away and the prospect of being caught at a murder scene is high, I don’t have time to console her how I wish to.
With one brush to her tear-stained cheeks, I shove away my desire to comfort her some more and glance up at my right-hand man. “She doesn’t leave your sight, Oz. And take Muncy’s son home, too.”
“No.”
I’m immediately taken aback by his blunt response. The thought of what his fucking problem is with Muncy’s kid—the fucking twat doesn’t do anything.
“Do I look like I’m in the mood for your bullshit?” I solicit with a bite to my tone. “C’mon, dude…”
Ozzy stares back at me placidly. Apparently, another issue I’ll have to handle later.
Bay steps out of my hold then, turning her attention to Hot Rod and Juice, and I feel as worthless now as I ever have with her. “Come to the house tomorrow. We’ll talk.”
