Page 72 of Remiss

Why had his dick even gotten hard? What the fuck was wrong with him?

Shuddering, he finally opened his eyes again.

Molly was still asleep. Still pale. Still vulnerable. Hehadto leave her so he’d get himself fresh clothing, and more towels, soap, and toilet paper.

Those fuckheads had a key, though. While he’d been in the bathroom earlier, Willard had unlocked the door and brought his ass in the room. For proof of life to Ryan.

What the fuck did Willard have Ryan doing that had him so determined to show she was still alive? Easton bet he wouldn’t like the fucking answer.

Fuck these fuckheads. They were fucking determined to fuck with Outlaw’s woman.

As urgent as the Meggie situation was, the Molly issue was doubly so.

He needed a plan. He needed to protect her while he left this room.

Orhe could always take Molly with him. He hated to move her. It was better than the alternative, however. She was so bad off, she wouldn’t survive a run-in with any motherfucker there.

Take her with him? Why not just fucking move her to his room? Bash hadn’t said he couldn’t. Since it didn’t seem as if he’d really let her go, if Easton claimed her, it might protect her. He’d nurse her back to health and then take her to Hortensia himself.

She’d be his to do with what he wanted. Including releasing her.

Easton scrubbed a hand over his face. If he didn’t play that shit right, Bash would demand an outrageous price. Not necessarily money but something as reprehensible as sleeping with Molly.

“Hold on, sweetheart,” he told her. “Do you hear me, Molly? Hold on. I’m going to do everything I can to get you back to safety.”

Lighting a cigarette and jamming it in the corner of his mouth, he stood, then made sure the sheet covered as much of her as possible. If he gave her too much consideration, they wouldn’t let him claim her, especially if only Cleaner was available.

Motherfucker was supposedly only the enforcer, but he had more sway with Bash and over club matters than any of the officers.

If ashes fell onto Molly and Easton ignored it, it would work in his favor.

He scooped her into his arms and her head lulled back, her arm dangling. Once he opened the door, he turned toward the staircase and rushed up, hurrying to his room. Unfortunately, the fucking door was locked.

“Need some help?”

Cursing at Randolph’s question, Easton glanced over his shoulder. He was tall, blond, and blue-eyed, with the build of a Viking. Easton never knew if he was friend or foe, so acted with caution whenever they crossed paths.

“I didn’t know you were in town.” His cigarette trembled when he spoke and ashes fluttered everywhere.

“Neither me with you. I’ve been here three days and this is the first I’m seeing you.” Randolph nodded to Molly. “Need some help?” he repeated.

Voices floated up the stairs and Easton glanced in that direction. “My keys are in the pocket of my cut,” he said, lowering his voice. “Unlock my door.”

Not wasting time, Randolph followed Easton’s instructions just as footsteps pounded up the metal staircase. He didn’t care that Randolph followed him into his room. The motherfucker had the presence of mind to close the door behind them.

Easton laid Molly on the bed, then took the fucking cigarette out. He really needed a fucking crash course on plots and plans. He’d royally fucked this one.

Sighing, he flipped on his bedside lamp. His room wasn’t the biggest, but it was a refuge from all the fucking madness. After discarding the cigarette, he sat on the edge of the bed and looked at Randolph, leaning against the door and studying him.

“Thank you for your help,” Easton said warily. “What will your discretion cost me?”

“Whose the girl? She looks bad off.”

“She is.” Easton refused to give any more information.

“Is that Molly?”

“What’s it to you?”