Chapter 1 #3
“And I’m not arguing against that,” Undertaker murmured, eyes darkening with his mood. “But King wants to grill him first. We’ll work our way to the fun part. No doubt there will be blood and guts. Maybe I’ll make a sculpture out of his teeth. Lee has been sending me some intriguing finds online.”
Lee straightened and hesitated, shifting nervously to stand near Undertaker, as though offering his quiet protection, something Undertaker absolutely didn’t need. What would it be like to have that type of relationship? My gaze slid to PD, and anger twisted his handsome face.
Undertaker sighed impatiently. “Come back tomorrow. We’ll get our answers, and you’ll get your chance at a bloody good time. Hell, maybe I’ll make a hat to go with my sculpture.”
My body vibrated with fury, but when PD touched my arm and nudged me, I went without argument. I walked back up the stairs, ribs aching with the climb. I tumbled forward as my toe caught on the top step, but PD was there to grab my elbow. I shook off his hold.
“I don’t need you to baby me,” I snapped. Guilt washed through me at the hurt expression on his face. His jaw firmed up again and he nodded.
“Let’s go home. This party is shit anyway,” he said, striding past me to our bikes, his boots crunching on the gravel.
As much as I wanted to argue for the sake of it, I was too tired. I needed sleep, so I followed him and hopped onto my bike.
He glared at my Harley, then me. “You know you shouldn’t be riding.”
Offer to let me pack on behind you. Of course, my silent request was ignored.
I snorted. Since the accident, they’d taken away my license.
Not for good, but the doctor had decided he wanted me to retake my driver’s test to make sure I had the decision-making abilities behind the wheel.
I hadn’t done it yet, the mixture of anxiety and irritation at retaking a test I did when I was a fucking teenager pissing me off.
Apparently, I’d have balance issues, too, which was bad for a biker.
Fuck them. I was sick of being told the endless list of things I couldn’t do anymore.
“I ain’t not riding,” I growled out. “Don’t start this shit again. I’m not a kid.”
PD sighed.
With my keys in my pocket, all I had to do was lift the bike upright and the security system disabled. I pressed the Start button, and the Harley roared to life. I grabbed my helmet and slipped it on, then followed PD along the driveway and out into the street.
We didn’t ride for long because our small two-bedroom house wasn’t far.
About ten minutes and we were there. We lived in an okay area, full of worn-down houses that were mostly kept up.
The streets had potholes, but you couldn’t lose a bike in them, and most of the streetlamps worked.
Not great, but not awful. It was home. Our home.
Out of all the houses in our neighborhood, ours was the nicest, with a freshly mown lawn and a new coat of white paint on the wooden siding.
PD had a borderline neurotic urge to have things neat, and I loved making him happy.
At least, I did before the accident went down. It was harder to find motivation now.
Our garage was big enough for one vehicle—a metallic blue extended cab Ford Raptor that we shared—and our two bikes.
It was detached from the house, so we had to walk out the door from the side and head around to the front to get inside our home.
PD didn’t say anything as we walked together.
Silent as the grave. That meant he was pissed off or thinking, and neither one was good, since I’d snapped at him before we’d left.
The guilt snowballed and I stopped him when he stepped through the door into the small, open-area TV-and-dining room.
We didn’t have much furniture, but all we’d ever needed was the basics.
A couch big enough for the two of us, an armchair, a TV, a tiny round table, and three chairs just in case we had visitors.
“I fucked up,” I said as an apology.
He blinked at me, those smoky gray eyes dark and unreadable, and then he sighed and waved toward one of the wooden chairs at our table. “Go sit. I’ll rub down your back.”
I didn’t have to tell him I was in pain, he knew, and that was the thing about PD—he always fucking knew.
I moved over to the chair like he’d ordered as he strode into the kitchen and opened the bottom drawer beside the stove to get out the bag he kept our ever-growing collection of medical junk in.
It had started out as a first aid kit. He put on a pair of latex gloves.
Turning the chair around so I could sit with my chest against the back, I sighed and slipped off my cut and shirt before I took a seat.
He returned a few moments later, the prescription pain gel in his hands.
“Where does it hurt?” he asked quietly.
“Down at the bottom.” I rested my cheek against the arch of the wooden chair and closed my eyes when he flicked open the lid on the blue tube.
The cool liquid slid onto my back and I gasped, but then his hands were there, massaging it into my skin.
Pain throbbed through me, originating from where his fingers kneaded. It fucking hurt. A lot.
I clenched my eyes shut and sucked in a deep breath. “I deserve to torture that bastard.”
“Yep,” PD whispered, fingers gliding gently across my skin. “And you will. Just give King time. He has a plan.”
“I’ve given him enough time.” I curled my fingers around the edge of the chair and tightened until the wood creaked. “How much more does he need?”
“I’m as angry as you, Will.” He kneaded a little too hard, and I hissed as pain shot through me again.
“I was the one who had to see you land on that road and bleed everywhere. I had to see you in the ICU. I fucking know how angry you are, and we do deserve this. Trust me. King ain’t doing this for the fun of it.
He’s got a reason. If they think the Demons are colluding with that dumb fuck of a commissioner, then we need to know.
The Demons want us out of this city, and so does Johnston, since we blackmailed him.
They are up to something. King taking Dallas from them was the cherry on the shit cake.
It’s when, not if, they try to kill us all. ”
I closed my eyes, the topical medication starting to work its magic. The agony slowly drained away. It wouldn’t stay gone for long, but I’d take anything I could get. “I know.”
“King will give us our revenge. He won’t deny us that.
” He pressed a kiss to my shoulder, and I froze, waiting for more.
But nothing came. He patted me gently on the hip.
The sound of his gloves snapping as he removed them was familiar background noise.
“Go to bed. Relax. Try and sleep. We’ll go see King in the morning when he’s not busy fucking Dallas raw. ”
I swallowed around the lump in my throat and inclined my head toward him. He smiled, small and halfheartedly, and backed away, heading down the short hallway to his room at the very end. I watched him until he disappeared, heart beating so rapidly that I thought it’d jump out of my chest.
Relief expanded across my back, and I knew it was the perfect time to try and get some sleep. I took some painkillers before I headed to bed, hoping that I could actually catch some z’s.