“Who put the bullet in his head?” Eagle asks from behind me.
I’m not proud of the fact that I killed someone, not even Silver. However, he deserved to die—a long time ago, like so many other Devil’s Crusaders. “I did.”
I tense under the weight of Eagle’s hand on my shoulder, but turn around to face him. If I violated some bylaw or something, I’m prepared to answer for it. I’ve cost this MC too much already. Now there’s another body to deal with.
“Ever killed someone before?”
“Never.”
“How do you feel?”
“Honestly?” I ask.
“You’re not on trial, Starlet.”
“I-I know. It’s just overwhelming to me. Taking a life. But I feel relieved. Afraid. Exhausted, even. How did you know to check on us?”
“Got a phone call. But don’t worry about it. I want to make sure you’re okay. You don’t carry a weapon regularly, do you?”
“No. When Brick didn’t show up for dinner, I searched for him in the woods. I’d already heard several gunshots, but knew there were hunters nearby. Silver found me.”
Eagle gestures toward the body. “And a little more than he bargained for.”
“Brick was already wounded when I arrived. Silver gave me a chance to say goodbye, told me he was going to kill Brick and sell me to a cartel. If it weren’t for Brick shoving the Derringer in my hand…” I sniffle. “We’d both be dead.”
“You did good, Starlet. Saved Brick’s life and handled yourself commendably. The emotional roller-coaster will level out eventually, I promise.”
I hope so, because at the moment, that’s exactly what it feels like inside my head—an endless ride at Disneyland with wicked curves and dips. “What are you going to do with Silver?”
“Send him back where he belongs,” Axe interjects. “To Huntsville, in a fucking box.”
The other brothers snicker. I gaze at each of them, recognizing admiration in their eyes.
“Brick was right to fight for you,” Axe says.
Humbled by the compliment I know Axe didn’t give lightly, I search for Angel. She’s sitting in one of the chairs along the wall. “If you don’t mind, Eagle, I’d like some time alone.”
“Of course.” He waves his wife over. “Get her whatever she wants, baby.” He gives Angel a hug and kisses her forehead.
Angel escorts me to my bedroom—the vice president’s suite. It seems so empty without Brick.
“I’ll have one of the old ladies make you some hot tea, okay? I need to take a nap.” She rubs her pregnant belly. “Little guy is squirming and kicking a lot today.”
“Thank you, Angel.”
She gives me a sympathetic look and leaves the bedroom.
After I shower and change into a pair of shorts and one of Brick’s Black Sabbath concert T-shirts, I settle on the bed, staring out the window, waiting for word on Brick. The doctor was right to send me away. The gunshot wound didn’t look as serious through Brick’s clothing. But once his shirt was cut away, I lost it. Covering my face with both hands, I let go of whatever control remains. I weep for Brick—myself—and the fact that I was forced to take another human being’s life.
Not sure when I fell asleep or for how long, but it’s dark outside by the time a knock on the door wakes me. I jerk up, tired and confused. “W-who is it?”
“Angel. Can I come in?”
“Please do.”
The door opens and Angel steps inside holding a pile of folded clothes. “Brick is stable, sweetie. He needed a blood transfusion after Dr. Evans removed the bullet. He’s resting comfortably in a room off the clinic.”
“Can I see him?”
