Chapter 4 #2
Dread: So cancel the marriage announcement in the Tribune?
This motherfucker.
I lock the screen and shove the phone back into my pocket without responding. The plastic chair squeaks under me as I lean my head back against the wall and close my eyes. I must doze off because the next thing I know, I’m startled by the sound of someone calling my name.
“Mr. Holland?”
My eyes spring open as I come face-to-face with a nurse I’ve never seen before. Careful not to terrify her like I have the others, I scrub a hand down my face and concentrate on shaking off the fog. “What is it?”
“Your wife has been moved to the ICU. You can go see her now.”
I’m moving before she finishes speaking, my boots eating up the hallway in long, purposeful strides.
It takes me a moment to find her room, but I waste no time entering once I do, my gaze instantly moving to the center of the bed where Jess lies.
Relief settles over me as I stare at her.
She looks so fucking fragile, and yet still so fucking beautiful.
I pull a chair up to her bedside and drop my ass into it. Up close, I can see the faint rise and fall of her chest, the way her lashes rest against her cheeks, the slight part of her lips as she breathes through the tube they’ve got taped to her mouth.
I used to stare at her from across the room, watching as she smiled and chatted with random patrons, wishing I were them.
That I was worthy of her attention. The longer I stared at her, the more unhinged my thoughts became.
I stopped craving to be the man on the receiving end of her smiles and started wondering what those lips of hers would taste like.
Imagining myself claiming her mouth was always a prelude to a laundry list of filthy desires, ones I tried to fulfill with saddle bunnies night after night. It never worked, though.
I was an insatiable bastard.
A man starved for one woman and one woman only.
A ticking fucking time bomb just itching to go off.
My eyes trace every inch of her face. I’ve done a lot of shit in my life that has secured my spot in hell, but marrying her without her consent takes diabolical to another level.
Even knowing that, I can’t help but let myself picture it—not realistically, where she wakes up distraught, angry, and wishing she had died in the explosion.
Instead, I imagine her sporting a smile that belongs to me as she climbs on the back of my bike, wearing a cut with my property patch on it.
Her hair is a mess, and it’s not because of the wind.
It’s because I’ve fucked her thoroughly, and when her thighs cradle mine, I rev my engine knowing her panties are still a mess.
Pretty sick thoughts for a man to be having about a woman who is unconscious and fighting for her life.
But I don’t feel a lick of shame as I reach for her hand.
I trace the lines of her knuckles with my thumb, the way I’ve done a hundred times in the last few days, and then my fingers drift lower until they reach her left ring finger.
Once again, Dread’s voice rings in my ears.
. . . this seems like a matter of life or death.
My gaze flits back to her face, and I swallow past the lump in my throat.
“You’re going to hate me anyway,” I whisper.
Might as well make it worth my while.
“Are you fucking out of your mind?” Tori shrieks.
I glance around the corridor, noting the curious glances from passing nurses and visitors. “Keep your voice down.”
“Fuck that.” Her voice drops, but she continues to stare daggers at me. “You’re asking me to commit fraud.”
Dread steps forward, placing himself between us. “That’s a bit dramatic even for you, Firecracker. We asked you to steal a piece of paper with Jess’s signature on it, not commit grand larceny.”
Having this conversation with him present was a bad call on my part, but after hearing his grand plan, he made it clear that we didn’t have time to waste.
The judge he spoke with owes the club a favor.
A couple of years ago his daughter was raped at the county fair, and it was the Fallen Demons who brought him to justice.
We tortured and killed that bastard while the judge watched.
We were happy to do it too, but we didn’t work for free, and instead of collecting a bag of cash for our services, I decided it would be better to keep him indebted to us.
Now I’m cashing in, but if he’s gonna sign off on all the paperwork and make sure mine and Jess’s marriage certificate gets filed and backdated, it has to be done before he leaves for vacation.
Dread waves his finger between himself and me.
“We’re the ones committing fraud.”
Tori’s head snaps toward him, her eyes narrowing to dangerous slits. “Oh, well, that makes it perfectly fine then, doesn’t it? Just a little light forgery between friends.”
“Exactly,” he says, flashing her a grin. “It’s child’s play, really.”
I run my tongue over my teeth, fighting the urge to grab Tori by the arm and drag her somewhere more private. “It’s either this or she doesn’t get the care she needs. Your choice.”
“My choice?” She lets out a bitter laugh. “You’re giving me a choice between betraying my best friend and letting her suffer? Some fucking choice.”
I lean in closer, my voice dropping to barely a whisper. “That cunt Reeves already came by Jess’s room this morning, hounding me about the next payment. They’re threatening to transfer her to a state facility if I don’t come up with another fifty grand by Friday.”
Something flickers behind Tori’s eyes—fear, maybe, or desperation. She glances toward Jess’s room, then back at me.
“There has to be another way.”
“Name it.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m all ears.”
She opens her mouth, then closes it again. Her shoulders slump slightly, defeat washing over her.
“I hate you,” she sneers.
“I know, but you hate the situation more than you hate me. You’re just too proud to admit it.”
Dread clears his throat. “Clock’s ticking, Firecracker. Better make like a bread truck and haul buns. We’ve got crimes to commit.”