I don’t know how long I sit there spiraling when I hear it. The sound of boots stomping down the hall.
“Rain,” he rasps.
I turn and look over my shoulder and frown. “What are you doing here?”
Ridge
Right as I put the last of the groceries in my fridge, the phone rings. Panther’s name flashes across the screen.
“What’s up?” I ask as I put him on speakerphone.
“Ridge.”
The seriousness in his voice makes me pause.
“What’s wrong?”
“He’s gone.”
Leaning against the counter, I close my eyes.
Son of a bitch.
I don’t need him to clarify who he’s talking about. I already know.
Mustang.
One of the oldest members of our club. The man who took me under his wing when he didn’t have to. Mustang was like a father to me when he didn’t have to be.
Despite knowing this day was rapidly approaching, it doesn’t make it hurt any less.
“How long ago?” I ask, clearing my throat, burying any emotion from my voice.
“Within the last fifteen minutes. The nurse called me herself.”
“Rain?” I ask.
He pauses for just a second. “She was on her way home from work. She’s there now, though. We are going to head over there in a few minutes, but you’re closest, and I hate the thought of her being there alone.”
“I’ll head out right now,” I tell him with no hesitation.
“Are you good?” he asks.
“No, but I will be. I’ll see you soon.”
Before he can respond, I hang up and wipe a hand over my face.
God dammit.
As much as I hate the idea of Mustang dying alone, I’m thankful she wasn’t there by herself.
Grabbing my phone and my keys, I head out the door. Jumping on my bike, I make the quick five-minute drive down the street. The van with the funeral home’s logo is already parked along the curb.
“Fuck,” I mutter as I park.
I eye the street and see that people are starting to come outside to investigate.
Shaking my head, I head inside.
