Page 4 of Hash

I’ll never forgive myself if I’m the cause of something happening to her.

All of this has put me in a bad mood I can’t seem to shake.

“Where has your ass been?” Trick asks as I walk into the clubhouse, still awake with a beer in his hand as he lounges on the couch.

“Jesus Christ, you look like shit. Go to bed,” I tell him, sparing him a glance as I walk past him toward the stairs, heading straight toward my room.

None of my brothers know about Aisling, and I intend to keep it that way.

“Can’t. Prez called church!” Trick calls after me, sounding as fucked up as he looks.

All I can do is shake my head as I close the door to my room.

Everyone has their own demons. His just happens to come alive every night when he closes his eyes.

I’m being a dick, and I fucking know it.

Ink doesn’t need this shit right now, but I can’t get a lock on it.

I’m here at his girl’s ex’s house having his back like a brother should after he killed the fucking man with his bare hands, but all I can think about is her as I’m dragging this piece of shit’s lifeless body across his fancy wood floors.

It’s fucking with my life, and I can’t afford that.

Now I’m helping dispose of a dead body we just killed, and shit is brewing with the Black Diamonds.

I haven’t had a good feeling about any of that since the run Ink and I went on. They’re greedy and think their shit doesn’t stink. It’s a bad combination to have.

I need to end it with her tonight.

“God, what the fuck did you guys do?” Scotch asks, bringing his tee up and covering his nose. “It fucking stinks.”

“That was Ink’s handiwork.”

“It smells like burned flesh.” Scotch is now plugging his nose through his shirt.

“He burned him like he burned her.” I shrug. It’s an eye for an eye in my book. The sick fuck deserved every single thing he had coming to him.

“It was fucking awesome. I never thought I’d take notes from Ink, but I’m using that one day.” Cyrus adds, sounding way too excited at the idea of burning someone alive. God, he’s so fucking crazy.

“You bring a tarp?” I’m ready to get this over with.

Scotch holds up a duffel bag. “In here. I parked the truck by your bikes. Didn’t want to cause any unwanted attention.”

Closing my eyes, my head tips back as my hands rest on my hips and I inhale deeply.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

My night can’t get any worse.

“What the fuck did you want me to do, Hash? Drive it through his backyard in this fancy-ass fucking neighborhood? If that doesn’t cause his neighbors to wonder what the fuck is going on, I’m sure when they see us loading his dead fucking body in the back everything will become crystal fucking clear.”

“And you think us carrying him down the fucking sidewalk won’t?” I fire back.

“Ladies,” Cyrus cuts in, lowering his hands in a calming gesture. “Let’s all simmer down.”

“Tell him to get his head out of his ass and I’ll simmer down. I came here to help you after Prez specifically asked you not to make a fucking mess.”

“I didn’t make this fucking mess,” I growl, jabbing a finger at myself. “You get your own head out of your fucking ass. Coming in here with a fucking attitude like we don’t got shit to do.”