Page 12 of Property of Scythe (Kings of Anarchy MC: Ohio #1)

“ H e’s coming now,” Lottie informs me, her voice sounding hollow right before the call disconnects.

“Fuck!” I holler as I pull up to the school, riding through the parking lot so fast that I hope no one jumps in front of me. “Lottie!”

I spot her kneeling on the grass, her eyes wide in horror as she lifts her hands to protect herself from an attack. That’s when I see the motherfucker rushing toward her as he lifts a fucking knife.

“Run!” I shout, but she can’t hear me over my engine. It’s too loud. There’s only one choice to make, and I jump the curb, landing on the soft grass as my bike fishtails. I’ve barely got the back tire straight again before I’m heading in his direction and picking up speed.

I have to slow him down. It’s his life or hers, and I don’t have to think about which one I’m saving. I’ve never hit someone on my Harley before, and I’m not prepared for the impact. It’s bone-jarring, rattling my teeth in my gums as I slam into the guy just feet away from reaching her .

My bike crashes as I lose control, both me and this sick fuck launching off the ground at the same time as my bike.

I see him land first, his neck twisting at an odd angle right before my bike squashes him like a fucking bug.

I wince as I land with a thud, rolling away from the spinning tires as I groan.

Fucking hell. I’m going to feel this later.

“Scythe!” Lottie crawls over to me, tears tracking down her face as she presses her hand against my lower abdomen. “Stay still. Don’t move.”

Why? “I’m fine.”

“No.” She sniffles. “You aren’t. We need an ambulance.”

She doesn’t understand about me and my club yet. There’s so much she doesn’t know. “Call Boomer. No paramedics.”

“Scythe.”

“Call Boomer.” I turn my head and spit blood onto the grass. I might have internal bleeding. Fuck. “He’s my brother. He’ll know what to do.”

“Right,” I hear her say. “He’s the sheriff.”

My eyes close as the world spins around me. I’ve got vertigo or some shit. Everything keeps tilting, and it feels like I’m tipping over and losing my balance, but that’s not possible since I’m already stretched out on the grass.

I hear Lottie’s frantic voice describing the scene. She sounds upset. “Baby. It’s okay.”

I keep closing my eyes, fighting the urge to sleep.

“Scythe.” She lies down beside me and reaches for my hand, threading our fingers. “Don’t die on me.”

“I won’t.” It’s a promise I can keep.

“I mean it. You can’t. I’m mad at you.”

My eyes flutter and I fight to stay awake. “Darlin’, I can guarantee you’re gonna be angry with me often.”

She smacks my side, and I almost yelp from the pain. “Why are you pissed, baby?”

“Because you haven’t talked to me since Friday night.”

Oh. Shit.

“You kissed me and then ghosted me.”

I manage to open my eyes. “I didn’t ghost you, Lottie. I had to handle a murder.” Oops. Did I say that out loud?

Her gasp is confirmation. “You killed someone?”

“No, darlin’. But I’m hunting the fucking clown who did.”

She stares at me, looking into my eyes with a shake of her head. “I think you found him.”

“Is he dead?”

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure. He’s under your bike and he’s not moving.”

Good. “Is Boomer coming?”

“He said he’s on his way with Hangman.”

I try to nod, but my head feels like it’s gonna explode, so I stay still, using one finger to point to my lips. “I need medicine, baby.”

“A kiss? Right now?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

“Because you’re bleeding and you’re hurt and—”

“Kiss me, Lottie,” I interrupt.

And she does. Her warm, sweet lips are the perfect distraction.

I don’t know how long the kiss lasts, but I feel my brother’s presence as someone clears their throat. Lottie lifts her head as I grin. Totally worth getting caught.

Boomer stares me down. “You look like shit.”

I lift my middle finger, so he knows what I think about that.

My pops joins us. “Did you get the son of a bitch, son? ”

“Yeah.”

He grunts in response, noticing Lottie. “Hi, lovely. I’m Hangman. These two brutes are my sons.”

I want to roll my eyes. He’s flirting.

“Lottie Bishop. I’m Mila’s teacher.”

Mila. My daughter. Fuck!

I try to sit up and fail, pain shooting throughout my body. “Mila. She’s probably scared.”

“I’ll go,” Hangman offers. “She doesn’t need to know about any of this. I’ll take her for a fun afternoon with Pappy.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

He nods before striding toward the school. I know she’s safe with him, and I won’t have to worry.

Boomer kneels beside me. “I’ve got an ambulance coming. Can’t be avoided, Scythe.”

“I know.” At least Mila won’t see it or the fucker under my bike. “We need to learn everything about this guy, Boomer.”

“We will.” He stands and holds out his hand for Lottie.

She accepts it as he helps her to her feet. “Glad we finally have a chance to meet. There’ll be time to talk more later. Right now, I want to get Scythe back to my place.”

“Okay.” She brushes the tears from her cheeks. “Can I come with you?”

“Yeah. I think you should.”

I try to stay awake as I’m loaded onto the stretcher and then into the ambulance. It’s a battle I lose.

WHEN MY EYES OPEN, I can tell I’ve been resting for a long time. My mouth feels like ash, and there’s dried blood on my fingers when I glance down.

I’m not alone. Lottie is sleeping beside me on the bed. I watch the gentle rise and fall of her chest, wanting to wake her, but I don’t. She needs the extra rest.

I’m staring at the door when Boomer walks in, carrying two mugs of coffee. He knew the second I opened my eyes. It’s instinctive but also rooted in our DNA. Just like we both know without saying that Hangman is home with Mila. They’re safe.

He hands me the mug, and I thank him. “Who is she to you?”

His tone is low. We won’t wake her.

“My woman.”

“You gonna put a property patch on her?”

“Of course.”

Boomer sips his coffee and takes a seat in the chair that’s been pulled close to the bed. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to you about Jerald Carter.”

“Who’s that?”

“The fucker is in prison for attacking Lottie. She’s Charlotte, by the way.”

“What did he do to her?” I’m pissed.

“Fucked her up and beat her, put her in the hospital. She’s got a gnarly scar on her upper thigh. He almost killed her.”

A growl forms in my throat, and I push the covers off, ready to drive to California, find this asshole, and fire a bullet between his eyes. I’m not above putting out a contract for it either.

“He’s nothing,” Boomer assures me. “The judge threw the book at him. He’ll never get out on parole. If he does, we’ll be there waiting for him.”

I don’t like it, but for now, I’ll concede. “What about the fucker who got crushed by my bike?”

“That’s the interesting part. He’s got no connection that I can find to Jerald Carter.”

“Fuck, Boomer. Who is he?”

“Just some asshole with a long rap sheet. His name is Calvin Brown. He’s done time and always ends up back inside. I don’t have a clue how he knows Lottie. From what I can tell, she’s had no interaction with him.”

“Fuck.” I know what he’s saying. “You think this is related to the severed arm.”

“I do.”

“And you believe Lottie is a target.”

“Nothing else makes sense. Based on what you’ve told me about the footprints and the guy in the bloody Art the Clown costume, it’s all connected. The severed limb and the attack have to be coordinated by the same person or group.”

“And Lottie is the next victim.”

“It’s the only logical answer. I’ve sent samples from the arm and Calvin’s remains, but I’m not hopeful we’ll find much. Whoever is orchestrating this is smart enough not to leave fingerprints or trace DNA.”

Fuck! I smack the mattress, and it startles Lottie. She rolls over and faces me, blinking the sleep from her eyes.

“Hi.”

“Hey, baby.”

Boomer gestures toward the door. “I’ll give you some privacy.” He shuts it behind him, knowing I need to speak to Lottie about what we know.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better. Almost back to normal.”

“That’s incredible. I saw you crash. I thought you were going to break your neck. ”

I shrug. “I’m not leaving Mila or you that easily.”

“I appreciate that.” She wants to smile, but it falters. “I’m glad you got there in time. You saved my life, Scythe.”

“And I would do it again.”

“I know.” She rises on her knees and leans over to press a soft kiss on my lips. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure, Lottie.” I cough since my throat is dry and sip from my coffee, finishing it off and setting the mug aside. “We need to talk.”

She’s uneasy. I see her thinking about moving away from me, but I don’t let her. My hand closes around her smaller one, holding it in place.

“What do you want to ask me?”

“I know about Jerald Carter.”

“Boomer found out, right?”

“He did, but only because of the person following you. I asked him to look into it.”

“That makes sense. He’s still in prison, right?”

“Yeah. He’ll never get out.”

She nods and traces her finger over the pattern of the blanket. “What else?”

“Do you know anyone named Calvin Brown?”

She frowns. “No. Should I?”

“No. He’s the guy my bike crushed.”

She visibly startles. “Oh. Wow. Why did he try to attack me?”

“I’m working on it. So is Boomer.”

“Okay.”

“Listen, baby. Last Friday night, someone left a severed arm outside the shack. Boomer thinks someone is being targeted.”

“Who? ”

I hate telling her this, but she deserves to know. “You.”

“I don’t understand. Why? I haven’t done anything.”

“I know. But someone has been following you.”

“So? That could be nothing.”

Her argument would make sense if not for the clown.

“When we were sitting down after the hayride, I saw someone dressed as Art the Clown watching us.”

She flinches. “What do you mean?”

“I thought it was Phantom until I saw all the blood on the stranger’s costume. When I talked to Phantom, there wasn’t any blood on his clothes. And then we found the severed arm.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s about me.”

“He was watching us, Lottie. You, mostly. He seemed angry when he saw us together. Like he was on the verge of violence.”

“Then why did that Calvin Brown guy try to kill me?”

This is the part that fucking worries me. “I think he might believe that if he can’t have you, no one will.”

She sputters as she tries to respond. “That’s ridiculous!”

Maybe, but it’s a viable theory. “We can’t take any chances.”

Lottie folds her arms over her chest. She’s frustrated, and I don’t blame her. Either she’s got a superfan who’s deranged, or she’s become a target for another reason. Either way, I need to protect her.

“I want you to stay with me until this is figured out.”

“Stay with you? Does that mean I move in?”

“For now. Yes.”

“And if I say no?”

“I’ll be staying with you. And that’s complicated because I have to bring Mila. How big is your place? ”

She rolls her eyes. “Not big enough.”

“Then you’re staying with me.” I don’t give her a chance to refuse.

After today, I don’t think she will. Not after I fucking wrecked my bike and interrupted a killer for her.

“Fine.”

I tug her closer, wrapping my arms around her as she rests her head against my chest. The circumstances are shit, but I’m happy she’s going to be safe, close to my side, and out of danger.

“I’ve got one more question.”

“What’s that?”

“Wanna take a shower with me?”

She smacks my chest. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“I don’t think that’s ever going to happen,” I admit.

She sighs. “Me either.”