Chapter 8 Sutton
SUTTON
The squeal of tires revved away from the building Cage had plopped us into as I pulled him away from his bike. The blood was thick. Hot. I could smell its metallic glamour as I wrapped my arms underneath his armpits. I pulled until I couldn't pull anymore before I dropped to the dusty sand.
“Shit,” I hissed.
I looked back at the building and grimaced. It was plain. Dark. It didn’t look like anyone was there. I didn’t even see bikes in the parking lot, for fuck’s sake!
“You aren’t dying on me today,” I grumbled.
I fisted Cage’s shirt and hoisted him against me. I couldn’t even recall how I got him on my back. I hooked my arms underneath his from behind, using the whole of the weight of my chest to pull him forward. I took one step. Then, two. I made it to the stairs as sweat dripped down my face.
“Come. On!” I screamed.
And as I started dragging him slowly up the steps, his blood permeated my clothes.
“Help! I need help! Someone, please!”
I plummeted to the deck as the front door ripped open.
I heard the cocking of guns that had been the echo of my life for its entirety as Cage pinned me underneath him.
I smelled the scent of leather. Of sweat.
Of anger and fury. I pressed myself up, feeling Cage’s body tumble from mine as he woke up with a gasp.
“Cage! Holy shit, Cage,” I said.
I slid out from underneath him and forgot about the men at the front door.
I cupped his cheeks, gazing into his weakening eyes.
He looked so tired. He felt clammy. And I was fearful that he was slipping away from me much faster than I would have ever wanted him to.
Because if these men were going to end the drama at their doorstep with their guns right now—and I still wasn’t convinced they wouldn't—I wanted to be the last thing Cage saw.
I wanted him to be the last thing I saw, too.
“Cage, please stay with me,” I whispered.
I slowly looked up at the men standing in the doorway. Tears dripped down my cheeks. The man from the picture stood there, staring at me blankly as he slowly lowered his gun. The men followed in suit, holstering them at their sides.
“He’s been looking for you guys,” I said breathlessly.
Cage coughed, and I looked back down at him.
But I wasn’t looking at him for long. I heard someone pick up the phone and say something about a woman named Piper.
That they needed her, or some such nonsense.
I didn’t know what that meant, and I didn’t care.
The only thing I cared about was someone pulled me away from Cage.
“No! No! Let—me—let me go!” I exclaimed.
“Calm down. Breathe. We have to get him inside and treated,” the man said.
I settled down as I saw the man from the picture and The Hulk pick Cage up off the ground.
I shrugged off the man holding me to his chest and looked back at him.
I saw steely eyes. Rugged stubble on his face.
He was trim. Lean. Very unlike the rest of the crew.
But he had a steel gaze in his eyes that boasted of the blood of men he’d taken over the course of his lifetime.
“Inside. Now,” another voice commanded.
I was led into a lodge that smelled of wood and leather polish. The door behind me quickly slammed shut as the two men hoisted Cage onto their pool table. They rolled him over on his side. The man from the picture spotted the leather cut and ran his fingertips over it.
“Night Outlaws?” the man asked.
He slowly turned to look at me as another man dipped down, surveying Cage’s wound.
“He’s bleeding pretty fast, Diesel,” the man said.
“I know. Which is why this woman needs to speak,” he said.
I quirked an eyebrow. “I don’t take orders, just so you know.”
“Do you take them easily enough to save the life of this man you’re carrying around?” Diesel asked.
Cage groaned as the man behind Diesel pressed something hard into Cage’s back.
“Anyone know where Piper is?”
“She’s coming. Five minutes out.”
“I don’t know if this man’s got five minutes.”
“He’s stronger than you think. He just wanted his entire crew get slaughtered,” I said.
Diesel quirked an eyebrow. “So, the Night Outlaws are dead?”
I nodded. “Yes. Except for Cage. And he’s being hunted by the man who wants them dead.”
“And you wanted us to bring him into our lodge because…?”
That sure as hell wasn’t my question to answer. But I wasn’t sure Cage was in the right mindset to answer it.
“Are you going to answer?” Diesel asked.
“I would if the question weren’t personal to the man on your pool table,” I said coolly.
His eye twitched before he turned his back to me.
He walked around to Cage’s front, then dipped down as I stood there.
The cloth the man held to Cage’s back was soaked with blood much quicker than I wanted it to be.
My heart sank as I watched him. As I watched his skin pale and his breathing become ragged.
I slowly stepped forward, placing my hand softly on his thigh as I stood behind him.
The man by my side worked quickly as the door flew open again. I turned around and saw one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen walking through those doors. She hauled medical equipment. An I.V. steel pole. Sterilized needles, mounds of gauze, and bottles of iodine.
“Get his coat off. And his shirt. We need to move quickly,” she said.
My eyes slid over the gorgeous woman, taking in her thick curves before she walked over to the hulking mass of destruction that helped carry Cage to the pool table.
The two of them kissed, and the large man thanked her for getting there so quickly.
I heard her call him “Rock,” and it suited him well.
Because he was massive. Chiseled from sheer granite with the dark, hard, stoic gaze to match his nickname.
“Come with me,” one of the men said.
I felt someone’s hands on my upper arms slowly guide me away from Cage. I reached out for him, too tired to fight but still not wanting to be away from his side. Something cool came down onto my arm and I looked down, taking in the cold wash rag cleaning off the blood on my forearms.
“I’m Brewer. And you’re going to have to let them work,” he said.
I slowly looked up into his eyes as Cage cried out in pain.
My head whipped over, and I saw that thick, gorgeous woman working quickly.
Within seconds, she had the bullet out of Cage’s body.
She dropped it onto the pool table before her hands moved like lightning.
Tears dripped down my cheeks. As the man named “Brewer” cleaned me down, I watched on helplessly as his woman—who was obviously a medical professional of some sort—inject something into Cage’s back.
He settled down, breathing unevenly but no longer crying out in pain.
Then, Diesel leveled his eyes with Cage.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
I panicked as Brewer continued cleaning off my arms.
“I had to—find you. Because of--my--.”
Cage groaned as Piper began stitching him up, and I didn’t like how pale he had become.
“Your father’s dead?” Diesel asked.
I drew in a shaking breath as Cage nodded.
“Our father’s dead,” he said breathlessly.
Diesel paused. “What?”
Cage coughed. “I’m your—”
He roared out in pain before Piper shook her head, then stabbed him with another needle.
“He needs way too much of this. I’m not going to have enough to fully numb him up,” she said.
“Just do what you can,” Rock said.
“Did you say ‘our?’” Diesel asked.
Cage drew in a shaking breath as his body shook.
“Cage!” I exclaimed.
“I’m your—brother,” Cage choked out.
Then, as if the heavens finally granted him a bit of peace, I watched him pass out.
“Cage! No!” I exclaimed.
“Keep her back. I need to work,” Piper said.
“No! Let—let go of me, you—fuck! Let go!” I yelled.
“I’ll throw you out of this damn lodge if you keep up that racket,” Diesel said curtly.
I snarled at him, pulling away from Brewer as Piper flickered her gaze over to Diesel.
“Remind you of anyone?” she asked, grinning.
“At least Brynn’s toned down,” he murmured.
“Who the fuck is Brynn?” I asked.
“My fucking wife,” Diesel said curtly.
Then, all eyes were on me as Cage laid there on the pool table. Smelling of blood, iodine, and out cold while Piper worked to stitch him up and get him back in working order.
“So, anyone gonna ask her whether or not it’s true?” Rock asked.
Diesel’s eyes narrowed at me, and it registered how mean he looked.
He had anger in his eyes and a downturn to his lips.
He looked so much more like Cage in person than he had in that picture I found back in Patch’s house.
The strong jawline with the rugged stubble that had grown out on his face made him not only look like the man I cared about, but it made him look mean.
He was tall. Strong. With his fists clenched at his sides.
He slowly grew in front of me, standing to his feet as he kept my eyes connected with his.
The man looked like he’d put me down in a second if he thought there was any sort of nefarious purpose going on. Which was why I was petrified to tell him it was my father that killed Cage’s crew.
I wasn’t ready to die at the hands of him, nor was I ready to die at the hands of my father.
Please have Patch’s understanding demeanor.
“Did he say what I think he just said? That… he’s my brother?” Diesel asked.
And while I didn’t think it was my place to give answers, I slowly nodded my head. Because honestly?
I was afraid what would happen to me if I didn’t.