“Goddamn it! I wasn’t fucking done,” King said, but he sounded amused more than anything.
On my knees, I crawled close to Bates’s head. “Having trouble fucking breathing, you piece of shit? Drown in your fucking blood.” I got to my feet and stomped out.
Dallas dodged me, and I bolted up the stairs. Undertaker was laughing like a hyena as King called after me, but I didn’t stop. I was covered in blood but couldn’t stand the idea of going into the clubhouse to wash off. Will would be fucking furious at me when he found out about this. He’d wanted to get his own revenge.
I went to my Triumph and climbed on, firing her up. The smile that hit my face had me feeling awful. I’d needed this. As much as Will should’ve driven that knife home, Bates had helped Jamison kill off my lover. He’d left me with a friend when I should’ve had so much more.
3
ROOK
I barely slept for three hours before the pain returned. It took longer than I cared to admit to get out of bed, and I stumbled into the hallway. PD’s bedroom door was ajar, and curiosity had me peeking inside. He wasn’t there, his bed pristine, and I frowned, shoving the door open farther. He hadn’t gone to sleep.
My heart ached as I took stock of his room. I should’ve been in here with him, curled up on his queen-size bed, snuggled close to his warm, hard body. But then, I would’ve upset him with my pained groans during the night.
I got dressed, then walked to the kitchen, but the lights were off and PD wasn’t in the main part of the house, either. Frowning, I stumbled to the front door and jerked it open, walking along the short path to the garage. When I checked inside, I found PD’s bike gone. I didn’t know how I hadn’t heard him leave.
But where had he gone? Images of him at Sinful or Black Out, finding a random fuck, sank into my mind, and jealousy swirled in my gut. I curled my hands into fists and puffed out deep breaths.
The irrational part of me considered getting on my bike and going somewhere—anywhere—to find a guy to screw, but fatigue heavier than a ten-ton engine weighed me down. My ribs throbbed and my lungs were tight. The doctors told me it was expected after not one, but two punctured lungs. They’d told me I wasluckyto be alive, but no matter how many times they said it, my thoughts on the matter didn’t change.
I didn’t feel lucky.
I fucking hurt.
My mind was foggy.
This was hell. Every day since the accident was the same—constant pain and fogginess. The only thing that ever changed was how bad it was each day. I’d been shot, beaten, and had motorcycle crashes, but nothing felt this way.Nothing.
Cursing PD for leaving me in this house alone, I walked farther into the garage and grabbed a metal bucket we kept around for the times we worked on our bikes. I upturned it, settling it next to my Harley’s engine. Sitting my ass on it, I started to fiddle with her, checking out her parts and her oil to make sure she was ready to go for that call I always waited for, the one where King finally told me he needed me again. Who the hell knew when it would come? None of my brothers trusted me. Had I become so fucked up that they didn’t want to risk their lives with me at their side?
I shook my head and focused on the Harley. Twenty minutes later, the rumble of PD’s bike filled the quiet early morning air until he turned his Triumph into the driveway and pulled up in the darkness. I glanced at him, lips pressed so thin they hurt.
He watched me in return. The thick silence sat heavy between us, then anger came at me as sharp as a whip.
“Did you enjoy emptying your nuts?” Words fell out of my mouth before I could stop them. My filter had disappeared.
PD jumped in surprise. He didn’t say anything, so my brain continued to betray me. I couldn’t stop the out-of-body experience that had me inwardly wincing in embarrassment.
“Didn’t think you were a horny dog like the rest of those fuckers, but it ain’t the first time I’ve been wrong about you.” That was bullshit. PD was the kind of guy who laid out the truth. He didn’t beat around the bush, especially not with me, which was why I didn’t understand where these thoughts were coming from. I had no control. I was a witness to a verbal crime and couldn’t stop the trash tumbling from my lips.
“What the hell, Will?” PD hopped off his bike and took a step back as though I’d physically struck him. He shot forward, boots slamming on the cement driveway until he was inside, the light of the garage finally flooding his handsome features.
I froze, taking in the sight of him that I hadn’t seen while he skulked in the darkness. His hands and neck were covered in blood, and the mess was also stark against his face. All the anger that had settled in me slipped away, gone as quickly as it had come.
“What happened?” I struggled to my feet and moved toward him, and he didn’t flinch as I cupped his cheeks, eyeing him for injuries. “Are you hurt? Who fucking hurt you?” I was ready to slit as many throats as I had to. No one was allowed to lay a finger on him.
“It’s not my blood,” PD murmured, his Adam’s apple jumping in his throat. He winced and guilt flashed in his gorgeous gray eyes. “Fuck, Will.”
Damn it.He didn’t have to explain because, in my heart, I knew where he’d been. I could see it in the way he gnashed his teeth and the angry tears that gathered in his eyes. His hand shook as he touched my shoulder. Suddenly, I wasn’t sure how I felt.
I stumbled a step back and almost went ass up over the bucket I’d used as a seat. PD went to catch me, but I held up my hand and glared at him. “Don’t fucking do it. Tell me where you were.”
PD hesitated and rubbed his face. Luckily, the blood was dry and didn’t smear. “I went back to the clubhouse. I wanted to talk to the pres, demand we get to kill the Demon.”
I laughed without humor. “Looks like you got what you wanted.”
He shook his head. “It wasn’t supposed to go that way. Undertaker was already working him over.”
