Chapter Twelve – Easton
Sitting in the chair at Molly’s bedside, Easton pretended she didn’t look small and vulnerable. Asleep because of sedatives but gravely injured and lacking proper medical care. He’d dug the bullets out and sewed the wounds as best he could.
But he wasn’t a fucking doctor. She was running a fever and he knew one of the wounds was infected. There were more than enough pills for someone to lose consciousness. Anything that actually helped though? Few and far between.
Thrusting his fingers through his hair, he closed his eyes so he wouldn’t see her. Yet, he saw her anyway. As she had been six days ago before Bash shot her and after.
Easton wondered if he’d ever forgive himself for fucking her. She hadn’t resisted. Even if she’d been conscious, she was so abused he would’ve been just another motherfucker using her.
He couldn’t fucking believe he’d fallen for Bash’s promises that if Easton slept with this girl, he’d finally let her go. The one time Easton broached the subject, Cleaner reminded Bash of an imminent appointment. Since then, Easton hadn’t had another opportunity to talk to him.
He didn’t trust leaving her for too long. When he’d sought out Bash and returned, he found Willard and Wally in here, cocks already out. He’d threatened to shoot the fuck out of them if they didn’t get the fuck away from her.
Fucking fuckheads. They were now added to his list of enemies within the club. Not that he cared. Death might be fucking easier than living with the guilt of what he’d done.
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. He had to 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.
Or he 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?”
“Mom told me about a girl held captive here. She helped to take care of her while she was here.”
Easton squinted. The only woman who’d come and gone on her own free will was Hopper. “Your mother is…?”
“Hopper,” he confirmed. “Seraphina is her real name.” He pointed to Molly again. “Please tell me that isn’t Molly. Mom really liked her. She’s going to be so fucking upset.”
Easton still didn’t trust Randolph.
He glanced over his shoulder as if he wasn’t leaning against the fucking closed door. “I need your help.”
“With?”
“I didn’t ride down looking for you. I came to talk to Bash because Mom’s mad as the blazes at me and she wants me to fix the mess I’ve made.
” He started forward, but Easton got to his feet, and he halted.
“She wants me to go to Outlaw,” he whispered in a strangled voice.
“She’s lost her fucking mind. He will kill me on sight. ”
“What did you do and how the fuck do you think I can help you? I’m a Scorpion, not a Dweller.”
“Yeah, but you don’t have Scorpion mentality. I didn’t know until I started overhearing shit about you. How you’re a spy for Bash through Johnnie Donovan. I can’t go to Hortensia so I’ve been hiding out here, hoping you’d return.”
Easton folded his arms, waiting.
“My former Prez wanted Outlaw’s attention, so I got a tip that if we took Meggie that would do the trick and passed it on to Mystic. Only he took her, stripped her, and threw her in a fucking hole. Outlaw wants my fucking head.”
“I’ll bet he does, fuckhead.” Easton glared at him. “How the fuck am I supposed to help you and what the fuck do you need help with?”
“I sent a bunch of documents to Bash, some months back. It kicked off a whole lot of shit, including the dumb motherfucker thinking my aunt owns the fucking club.” Randolph rolled his blue eyes. “Which she doesn’t, by the way.”
“Meggie is your aunt?”
“So you know about that shit, too?”
Easton glowered at him.
“Yeah, my father was her brother. I’m actually Bash’s great-nephew or great-great nephew. It confuses me because our family is so fucked.”
“Excuse me?”
“My grandmother was Kimber Caldwell. Bash’s aunt.”
“I think you and Bash are cousins. Which makes us cousins, since I’m his son.”
Randolph’s eyes widened. “No shit? So Tio is your brother?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Yeah, even with all the casts, he’s a fuckhead. What happened to him?”
“One of Outlaw’s sons.” It served the arrogant little fuckhead right. He’d had no goddamn plan. He’d intended to kill Diesel, when not a motherfucker or his mama wanted that. Even Tabitha only wanted Diesel scared back into her arms. “He has months of recovery ahead of him.”
“Oh goddamn.”
“Exactly.”
Molly groaned. Immediately, Easton turned, afraid she was awakening, but she merely adjusted positions and quieted again.
Fuck, he didn’t have time for Randolph’s bullshit. He needed to save Molly. “Is Bash here?”
“In his office.”
“I need to see him.” Easton started for the door, spotting his keys on the bureau near the light switch. He hadn’t even realized Randolph had set them down. He snatched them up. “I don’t know what you think I can do—”
“Mom sent a letter to Kendall Donovan. Either it was intercepted or she received it and ignored it. I think I have a better chance of surviving if I talked to Johnnie and let him break the news to Outlaw.”
“And what fucking news is that?”
“I have a copy of Big Joe’s final will. A woman named Marion has the original. And the real owner of the house has the final copy. Or had the final copy. She might be dead by now.”
“She? A woman does own the club? Who? And why did she never come forward?”
“She didn’t know. Someone left a bunch of documents at her place and never clued her in. My best guess is Sharper since he had a soft spot for her.”
Fuck. It was Aunt Celia. All this time, Bash was going after Meggie when he virtually owned everything already.
“I want to see the fucking will. Stay with Molly until I come back from talking to Bash, then we’ll figure something out. I have a fucking idea, although I don’t like it.”
Rory and Ryan were a safer way in then any of the Death Dwellers. Fucking with their women was a big no-no, but those two had involved themselves in club business in more ways than one.
“I can get her some meds.”
“She needs a hospital, but medication, especially antibiotics would help.” At the door, Easton halted. “Keep this fucking door locked. Don’t leave her and don’t let a motherfucker in.”
“I won’t.”
Once he locked his bedroom door, Easton made his way downstairs. As he approached Bash’s office, Cleaner barreled toward Easton from the direction of the bathrooms.
“Where is she?”
“Who?”