Page 38

THIRTY-THREE

DASH

I don’t want to move.

Dayna’s curled against me, feet tucked under her, the blanket tangled around her ankles.

She looks fucking perfect, even asleep. She swore she’d stay awake for the movie she picked, but she’d tapped out after ten minutes. Now, she’s slumped against me, one hand curled around her belly, the other gripping my shirt.

I glance at the time on my phone. I’ve already pushed it as late as I can, but fuck, I’d give anything to just stay with her.

Carefully, I slide out from under her, but she stirs.

“Do you have to go?” Her voice is sleepy.

“I won’t be long.” I press a kiss to her temple, and her eyes flutter open. “Any nausea?”

“That’s pretty much my default setting these days.”

I frown. “I hate that you feel so shit.”

I hate I have to leave her when she does.

“It’s okay. You can make it up to me at another time. I take payments in orgasms and cake.” Her smile is lopsided.

Cocky too.

“I accept your terms.” I nip her bottom lip before pressing a kiss there.

She groans, rubbing the side of her stomach. “I think our baby hates me.”

I press my hand over hers. “Cut your mum some slack, kid.” I kiss her neck. “We need her. I need her.”

Her hand slides along my cheek. “I need you more. Don’t ever leave me.” she says the last part quietly, a plea that wraps around my heart.

“Never. You’re mine until your last breath. Go to bed.”

“Wake me when you get back.” She’s already halfway asleep.

I make a noncommittal sound in the back of my throat, knowing that if she is asleep, there is no way in fuck I am waking her up.

She needs rest.

I ride over to the clubhouse, my eyes everywhere. The van is parked already, the back doors open when I park my bike and wander over.

Riley and King are loading the crates into the back with Blade, who is hovering, his bruises still prominent. I help load the rest, blocking out everything, but I can’t ignore fucking King.

He’s been running his mouth since I showed up.

“Are you going to talk this much the entire fucking run?” Blade grumbles.

“Did you get your sense of fun knocked out of you when you got beat??” King fires back, grinning like an idiot.

Riley freezes for a beat before he continues stacking the crates in the van. Blade stands tall, and the tension swells between them. “That’s supposed to be a joke?”

King holds his hands up defensively, even while his lips are still kicked up. I don’t like Blade, but right now, I don’t think I’d stop him if he punched King in the fucking jaw. “Sorry, didn’t realise you were sensitive about it.”

Blade slams a crate into the back of the van, before rounding on him. “I nearly fucking died out there, and you’re asking me if I’m sensitive? Shut your fucking mouth before I do it for you.”

“I know that, but I was just?—”

“You’re staying.” I glance over my shoulder as Grub approaches. The VP patch is stitched into the leather—mocking.

King’s expression drops. “Don’t tell me you’re benching me because this prick can’t take a fucking joke.”

“I don’t give two fucks about your shit. This deal is mine, and I want to make sure it goes off without a hitch. If we send too many brothers, they’ll get twitchy. So, you’re staying. The rest of you, let’s go.”

King protests, sounding like a whiny kid.

It sits on my tongue to offer my place, but I have to go.

I climb into the back of the van, squeezing down between a couple crates while Blade sits opposite me.

He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t look at me either. I watch. I listen. I tuck every piece of conversation away in case it’s useful.

Grub pulls the van through the entrance of the multi-story car park, past empty spaces and through a ghost town of concrete.

By the time he stops, we’re on the third level, and I’m ready to get the fuck out of this tin box.

I’m on my feet, bent over to avoid brushing the roof, before he’s pulled the handbrake up.

I open the back doors and jump out.

“Let’s hope these fuckers turn up on time,” Blade mutters.

I grunt low, just wanting this shit to be over. I’d feel better if Mace or Riot were here—someone watching my back.

The sound of an engine draws my attention and a moment later lights appear on the ramp. The dark-coloured van pulls up next to ours, and three guys get out.

Blade moves towards them, Riley following, but it’s Grub who has my attention. He steps up to my side, and when I flicked my gaze to him, his hands are shaking.

Something prickles along my neck, an instinct I know not to ignore.

“Put your fucking hands up!” The roared command has my gaze snapping up.

Riley and Blade are staring down gun barrels.

Shit.

Shit, fucking shit.

One discharges, the boom so loud it hurts my ears.

What the fuck is happening?

We’ve been fucked over, that’s what.

An ambush.

An attack.

Fuck.

Blade yells, blood dripping through his fingers as he clutches his arm.

I instinctively reach for the gun in my waistband, but pain punches through my side.

It’s so sharp, so blindingly extreme, my breath catches behind my teeth.

The world stops turning. Nothing exists but the loud, laboured sound of my chest struggling to rise and fall.

My head drops towards my chest and the surreal sight of a knife sticking out of my side.

Shit. I can’t breathe in. Or out. Or think past the gut-deep agony spreading through my body.

I don’t mean to, but my hand latches around Grub’s shoulder as my vision splinters and I sway.

What… what happened?

He shrugs me off, the ugly look on his face is so foreign, it hurts more than the wound in my side.

He leans in, as if he’s holding me up and spills poison from his traitorous fucking mouth. “You gotta understand, kid, this isn’t personal. It’s survival. I’m not going to stand around and wait for you and the others to take me down.”

The shove to my chest isn’t hard, but I stumble back and fold, like someone pulled the steel out of my limbs.

I hit the ground hard enough to wind myself, and when I try to move, I can’t.

The only word running through my head is betrayal.

That fuck sold us out.

Our own fucking VP handed the three of us over to die.

Riley and Blade are on their knees, their fingers interlaced behind their heads as guns are pressed against them.

“You want us to kill them?” one of the guys asks, and it fucking burns through me when Grub replies.

“This shit can’t come back on me. It has to look good. There can’t be any doubts of my loyalty.”

Traitor.

Cunt.

“We know what we’re doing,” the guy says, offended. “No one will suspect a thing—as long as you’ve got the money.”

Grub steps up to them, reaching into his kutte. He hands a fat envelope to the nearest guy.

He’s paying them to fucking murder us.

“You piece of shit,” Blade rasps.

The guy holding the gun behind him presses it so hard against his skull that his chin dips down to his chest.

“Shut up,” the guy says.

“You ain’t fit to wear that patch,” he grounds out, despite the death threat pressed against his brainstem.

My vision’s blurring so bad, I can hardly see. All I think about is Dayna.

I failed.

I told her I’d never leave, and now, I’m bleeding to death.

Grub suddenly fills my vision, crouching down in front of me. I lift my head just enough to glare at him.

“You fucking snake.” I don’t know how I get the words out, and they don’t sound right, but at least I deliver them.

“I’m the snake? I know you’re actively plotting some heroic move to save the chapter. And I know that involves taking me out, Dash, but you gotta understand, I’m not the guy who goes down with the ship.”

It feels like the blood is pumping out of me in time with my sluggish heartbeat. “The rats always run when the ship’s sinking.”

His lips pull into a snarl before he lifts his knife, examining the blade in front of me. My blood still stains it.

“I might be a rat, but at least I’ll still be here.”

I brace for the killing blow. Dayna flashes through my mind. The kid I never got to meet. The life I never got to have.

The gun discharging is so loud, it echoes around the concrete walls like an explosion.

Grub crumples. The side of his head is gone, just a mass of tissue and blood left.

Shouts, chaos… it moves around me, but all I can focus on is trying to get more air into too tight lungs.

Nic drops to his haunches in front of me.

I can smell the discharge from the gun he’s clutching. Even through the darkness closing in around me, I know what the fuck just happened.

Nic killed Grub.

He killed our VP without blinking.

Shit.

His eyes roam my face for a second before dropping to my stomach.

“Shit. Just hang on, yeah?”

He tears my hands away, tugging my shirt open and shoving up my undershirt. I see that flicker of panic in his eyes, even though he tries to mask it.

“We need to get him out of here quick.”

Riot’s pale, the look in his eyes telling me more than the false promises he’s spewing about how I’m going to be okay.

“Take care of them… Dayna… the baby.” I push the words through lips that feel too thick.

“Nope. You’ll be here to do that, brother.” He drags his kutte off, his T-shirt following. Then he balls it up and pushes it against my side.

My back bows, pain spreading to places I didn’t know I could feel it.

I’m fading fast. There’s darkness creeping into the edge of my vision, and my body feels numb.

And right before I pass out, the last thought I have is that I’m not ready to die.