One punch.
Another.
When I speak, I punctuate every word with another punch. “You…keep…away…from…us.”
His hands raise, but they aren’t effective in the slightest.
“Jesus, Jackal,” Atom mutters, but he doesn’t stop me.
Grudge doesn’t either.
Wraith shifts to avoid blood spatter.
Because they know we don’t lay hands without a cause. And at this point, they have to be reading between the lines. Because this is no longer about safety.
It’s about him calling Isla a fucking slut.
Kevin’s face and my knuckles are a bloodied mess when I finally throw him back into the laundry. I step back, breathing heavy, and push my hair off my face. I feel the drips of blood on my forehead.
And there’s a spear of ice in my chest.
“You ever go near her, you ever go near him, you ever come at me, and there will be no end to my vengeance,” I say.
Kevin groans something that sounds a lot like understanding.
Grudge grabs me by the shoulder and steers me to the door. Wraith opens it wide, holding it while we all pass through it. Atom offers me a bandana and tells me to wipe the blood from my face before we mount our bikes.
The road ahead is quiet, but my pulse roars like thunder.
Because something is very wrong. I felt it in Kevin’s gaze. Being run off the road, that wasn’t him.
So, who the hell was it?
21
SHADE
Ihave a burning need to shit, but my body is fiercely resisting moving because I just got fucking comfortable for the first time in hours. There are many things I can do from this bed, like slowly lose my mind, but shitting isn’t one of them
Kai is out handling some club business, which leaves me alone with the stink of sweat, leather, dried blood, and whatever the hell else spilled on me after the crash. Even the antiseptic tang of the stuff Greer used has long since evaporated.
Also, I’m tired of smelling like this.
I’ve tried my best to distract myself, working on a plan to advance all our skills, making a matrix of what skills we already have, and who has them. But it hasn’t helped.
My ribs still ache with every breath I take. My elbow throbs from earlier, when I nailed it on the bedside table. My head pounds, likely because I’m dehydrated. Although, lord knows Isla has been a pain in my ass, making sure I drink a glass every time she comes over, and leaving me a nicely filled glass with ice and more water in it next to the bed.
But what I want is whiskey, so I can drink through the misery.
The need for the bathroom wins out. Gingerly, I haul myself upright, one hand braced on the wall. Pain cracks through me, like someone is snapping my rib cage in half, but I’ve got no choice but to grit my teeth and move.
Molasses could move through the house faster than I could, as I work my way along the wall. The bathroom tiles are cool beneath my feet as I step inside. Lowering myself down to the toilet is reminiscent of one of those days you overwork your legs at the gym and have to cling to the sink as you sit.
When I’ve done my business, I manage to stand again, but the bathtub looks so inviting. Somewhere I can just lie and let the hot water do its thing. Getting in will be an ordeal, but maybe it will help bring me…ease. Especially if I add some of the Epsom salts Kai keeps on the side of the tub.
The head spin I get as a result of putting the plug into the hole is almost enough to scare me off. But once the hot water is pouring and steam is curling, I can’t wait to get in. I place a towel on the sink, so I don’t have to bend to reach it when I’m done. I put another on the back of the tub, so my head has something to rest against.
The pain is so bad, I almost cry pulling my clothes off. But I manage to sit on the side of the tub, and with the assistance of what little core strength I can use and the sink vanity for stability, I manage to lower myself into the tub without getting my arm wet.
