9. Casper
nine
Casper
Iwon't lie. Kylee not texting me after she agreed to do so stings a little.
The thought that I’ve failed to make her feel good crosses my mind, but remembering the sounds she made, there’s no way. Instead, I’m putting my money on a stroke of bad luck. Maybe her shop got so busy that she couldn't send me a single text.
Maybe she lost her phone. Why else won't she pick up when I try to call?
Groaning softly at the sweet sound of her listing her shop's name in her voicemail, I leave a long, whining message before I'm left with no choice but to go check on her.
I hadn't planned on seeing her again so soon—especially when all I really want is to finish what we started. Yet, here I am, flying down the streets, taking each turn swiftly to make it to the same strip that's starting to feel like a third home.
At this hour, she should be ready to lock up. Assuming she'd be loading up her van with all those books I don't actually need by now, I park in the lot directly behind the strip. Spotting her van, I park next to it and squint when seeing it looks untouched.
Hopping off, I circle the building and make my way inside the shop.
By now, I'm used to the peaceful silence that clings to the air. That's not what has me jerking around to look.
It's not the familiar smell of old paper that fills my lungs, but the stench of paint. A scent that doesn't belong anywhere near a place like this.
Pulling off my helmet, I look toward the counter and move to it when I don't see the owner. "Kylee?"
Silence welcomes me, and it feels like my heart slows to the point where I can barely feel it in my chest. Pulling out my phone, I try to call her again. In the distance, I hear the other device rattle.
Turning around to search for it, something else catches my attention before I can find it.
Ending the call, I peel my eyes away from the wall doused in paint that barely looks dry and pull up Dante's contact.
Before he can greet me with his familiar grunt, my phone creaks against my grip.
"I don't have time to argue with you right now.
I know you know the location of Ironwood Hounds' hideout.
Tell me where." My gaze flicks back up to the dog that has ruined the paint job beneath.
"If not, I'm going to find someone who can tell me, and I can't guarantee I won't leave a path of bodies behind me. "
There's the lingering sound of silence before a sudden shuffling around. "Where are you?"
"That's not—" Shoving a fist against my eye to numb the low throb growing, I let out a growl that sounds unfamiliar. "Dante."
I don't have the time for this. Fuck.
"I'm not going to let you get yourself killed by being reckless. You want to go die, then I'm going to risk my life keeping you alive as long as possible." He asks me for my location once more, and after I begrudgingly give it to him, he hangs up on me.
Leaving me in silence, I fight the urge not to kick something to avoid ruining something Kylee cares about. How else am I supposed to release this anger bubbling up within me?
She's been kidnapped, and it isn't by chance. I'm no fool. I put a fucking target on her back, and for all I know, she could be dead.
Gripping my phone hard enough to make my fingers ache, I decide right then and there that I'm going to stab every single one of those dogs. Not just once or twice, but enough times to make them regret ever touching her.
I'll make them bleed until the only color they know is red.
She can't be dead.
Shaking my head as the dreaded thought takes over, I try to keep calm. I wouldn't be in my position if I couldn't keep a level head. Right now, I'm not feeling like myself, so there's no telling how I'll react.
Calling up Thanatos next, he's not amused by the order to get rid of this mural. Well, he's a fixer, and I need this fixed if she returns.
No, fuck. When she returns.
Cursing myself in frustration, it doesn't take long for Dante to make his appearance.
Relieved that he's good at dropping everything when it comes to anything involving the club, be it with our enemies or anyone who is important to us, I don't waste any time getting on the road with him.
Thankfully, he doesn't try to question me in the slightest. One look at me, and he can get all the answers he needs.
He leads the entire way, and just when the ride feels drastically too long, we reach an area that I'm pretty sure connects all three territories, making up the town.
We finally pull into a building that looks like it should be a bar.
The front is still under renovation, but the number of bikes parked in front of it confirms my suspicions.
I recognize the van parked in the front, too, and the sight of it being riddled with bullet holes has my blood running cold.
Coming to a stop, I'm ripping off my helmet.
"Now, don't do anything stupid. We don't know what we're facing." Dante tries to talk sense, but I can barely register it as the question of what happened to that van fills my head.
On a normal day, we would've planned and prepared to face these guys for the first time.
There is still so much we don't know, as far as I'm aware, and Dante doesn't normally make impulse decisions.
If he knew where this place was, he might have been working out a plan all on his own without telling me.
Getting an address would've been the easy part, but getting in their systems, that's what takes time. There's no telling what is waiting for us inside.
As much as I like Hex, I don't have the time for her to crack into their defenses to find out. On any job, I'd find the stealthiest way to get inside, be in by cutting the power, and making them understand what it's like to be blinded.
However, the moment I'm off my bike, both Dante's order and my usual methods go out the window. I don't think twice. Unsheathing my blades, I book it.
"Casper!" Dante curses me, and I know whatever repercussions I'll have to deal with can be saved for later. His heavy footsteps crunch behind me in the distance, but he might as well be miles away. I’m already a blur, cutting through the space between me and the entrance.
My grip on my blades is tight, promising the acknowledgment of drawing blood.
I don't check for traps. I don't look for security cameras. I hit the doors at a dead sprint, bursting into the room like a bullet looking for a target.
The music past the door is just a dull, rhythmic thudding against my eardrums, completely detached from reality. The air smells thick and heavy, but my lungs refuse to take a full breath.
My eyes lock onto the only thing that matters. The patches on their backs. The Ironwood Hounds.
Figures start to turn toward the door. Heads snap in my direction.
Mouths open, probably shouting, maybe demanding to know who the fuck I am, but their voices don't penetrate the wall of static in my head. I don’t count their numbers.
Hell, I don't even look for Kylee, because the rational part of my brain is turned off.
The only thing left in my head is the suffocating need to return whatever harm they did to her onto them.
Someone turns on a stool to my right. I don’t think—I just lash out.
My blade cuts air, biting deep into the dark wood of the bar with a sharp splintering crack when bodies jump out of the way.
I rip it free on pure instinct, spinning blindly into the next body that lunges.
Metal tears into leather, a sickening tear followed by a loud howl of pain.
I raise my left dagger, ready to drive it home, ready to take apart anyone who touched her—
And then my eyes catch a flash of baby blue.
My arm freezes in midair. The static in my brain suddenly clears, leaving a ringing silence.
Kylee is sitting right there. She isn't bound. She isn't bleeding. There’s a bubbly drink sitting right in front of her on the table.
"Casper?" Calling out my name, she looks a mix of startled and surprised.
Before her voice can even fully register, thick fingers clamp onto the back of my cut.
The world instantly tilts. My feet lose the floor, weightlessness violently replaced by a bone-rattling impact as I am slammed flat onto my back.
The air explodes from my lungs in a ragged gasp before I'm staring up at a mean-looking son of a bitch.
The man, Cerberus, from his patch, only lifts his glare when he has a barrel of a gun aimed at him.
"Enough," Dante pants, his large frame stepping between me and the biker. He sounds pissed that I made him sprint, but the barrel of his gun doesn't waver. "He's being an idiot."
So much for brotherly solidarity. The room erupts into a chorus of shifting leather and drawing weapons as the other Hounds react to the threat.
I hear the clicks. I know we're outnumbered ten to one.
But before I can even lift my hands to grab my dropped blades, the chaotic backdrop of the bar completely fades.
Because my view is suddenly replaced by a much prettier one.
Kylee drops to her knees beside me, not acknowledging all the guns pointed our way. Her hands are immediately on my face, her palms warm and frantic against my skin. Her thumbs brush over my cheeks, grazing my eyelashes as if checking to see if I'm still whole.
"Are you okay?" she whispers.
"I should be the one asking that," I groan, trying to force my useless, aching lungs to work. I reach up, my fingers instantly finding her flushed cheek. "Tell me they didn't hurt you."
Completely blocking out everyone else, a wave of relief hits me so hard, I'm surprised I'm not swept under. What I should be doing first, and foremost, is apologizing to her for getting her involved in the first place.
"Hurt me?" Kylee shakes her head, a small, tentative smile breaking through her worry.
"They saved me, Casper. They're a little rough around the edges, but they're... nice.
" She hesitates on the last word, her eyes flicking toward the massive bikers as if trying to convince herself it's the right term. "Maybe more charitable than anything."
My brain stalls out, entirely unable to process the words "nice" and "charitable" in a way to describe one of them.
Sensing my utter confusion, she hooks her hands under my arms and helps me sit up.
The movement brings my daggers into view.
When she grimaces at the fresh blood coating the steel, I react instantly to the distaste on her face, quickly swiping the blades flat against my jeans before tucking them back into their sheaths.
She leans closer, her breath warm against my ear. "You'd better apologize to that guy once everything calms down," she whispers, nodding toward the biker holding his leaking arm. "He's the one who brought me here."
The thought of uttering an apology to a Hound makes my jaw lock so hard my teeth ache.
I glance from her wide, hopeful eyes to the bleeding giant, every killer instinct I possess screaming in protest. But looking at her, I already know I'm completely powerless.
Saying no to her is a luxury I don't have.
Stroking her cheek and sighing against her, it's Dante who is helping me back to my feet. The air is still thick with tension, but with Cerberus's command to lower everyone's weapons, it thins out enough to breathe.
Not looking pleased in the slightest, he has me following Cerberus to another room, this one silent without containing so many pairs of eyes on us intruders. Not wanting to separate from Kylee, I take her with me. We're past the point of shielding her away from my lifestyle.
"Are you sure I should be listening to this kind of stuff?" She chews on her lip, and it takes strength not to kiss her.
God, I want to kiss her. I want to pull her to my chest and hug her until my arms ache. There is so much relief to see her that is barely contained.
"If you're not within my reach at any point in the next twenty-four hours, I think I'm going to lose my mind, sweetheart." Being honest with her, I pull her onto my lap and ignore her protests. Burying my face into her neck, I sigh all too heavily. "You're really okay?"
She nods again and strokes my cheek.
"Have I lost any chance of being with you now that you've got to see the ugly parts of my life?" Closing my eyes, I hate the fear that seeps in at learning her answer.
"You want to be with me?" As she asks the wrong question with the obvious answer, her finger tickles the split on my lip. "I, um, have thought about it a lot. It's going to take some adjustments, I think, but I... I do like you."
I really want to kiss her.
"Can we move on?" Dante asks at my side, ruining the sweet confession made just for me. "Or do you two need a minute?"
If he didn't have a hint of sarcasm in his tone, I'd thank him and take advantage. Instead, I'm sighing and nodding my head. "We're good."
For now. Once I can get her all alone, somewhere without any distractions or interruptions, then I'll make sure the air is nice and clear.
If she'll still have me by the end of that conversation, then I'll make sure to never let her go.