Page 75 of Hash

Has Hash been saying these things about me to him behind my back?

“No response? Sucks getting called out for what you are, doesn’t it? Once a lying, conniving cunt, always a lying, conniving cunt. Count your days with that boy. He won’t be with you much longer.”

“What do you mean he won’t be with me much longer?” I ask, my voice barely audible from the fear that’s starting to paralyze me.

“Club’s got a good lawyer.”

My throat feels like it’s closing in.

I can’t breathe.

Hash wouldn’t try to take Cormac from me. He wouldn’t.

“Baby doll!” Hash yells, his voice coming closer as he walks toward the stairs, but my vision is blurry from the tears I’m fighting to keep at bay. “What’s taking so long?”

I can’t bring myself to tell him what’s keeping me. In fact, I can’t bring myself to say anything as I blink rapidly, wiping the corner of my eyes so Hash doesn’t see the evidence.

Trick steps to the side, giving me a clear view of Hash coming up the stairs with Cormac in his arms.

“What the fuck?” Hash says, his tone sounding angry as he reaches the top step, taking Trick and I in. “Why are you in her space?”

“I’m not, brother. I was just on the way to my room when she came out of yours. Thought I would introduce myself since I didn’t have the pleasure of meeting her this afternoon.”

My heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of my chest and fly away as Hash looks between us with his assessing gaze.

Forget a judge and jury.

The Dirty Devil MC men could have someone spilling their guts and admitting to the crime in under five minutes.

Trick’s gaze slides to me, daring me to tell Hash what he said just now.

I’m not going to be the one to start a fight between them the first time I’m meeting everyone. And it would be a fight.

“I got the bags.” I swallow as I hold them up. “I’m ready to go if you are.”

Hash studies me for a long moment, his eyes searching my face.

I wonder if he can see the distress that’s still pumping through my veins. I’ve never had a good poker face.

Hash must be okay with what he sees because he’s nodding his head as he moves toward me, placing a hand on the small of my back and pushing me forward. “Let’s go.”

I go down the stairs first with Hash bringing up the rear.

Inside the clubhouse is empty, and I’m grateful for that.

I’m not exactly in the talking mood.

The drive home is silent with Cormac passing out in his car seat as soon as we turned out of the driveway and onto the road. Hash has one hand on the wheel and one hand on my thigh the entire ride, but his body feels taut. The air feels stuffy with tension that isn’t coming from me.

“Are you okay?” I ask once we’re lying in bed.

Hash is lying next to me, but he might as well be back in his room. That’s how far apart it feels we are.

Hash didn’t say a word as he got Cormac out of the car and carried him inside. He didn’t say a word while Cormac ate or during bath time. It’s like he’s going through the motions.

He’s lying flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling with his hands clasped together on his chest. He side-eyes me but says nothing.

What in the hell did I do to him?