Kansas (Ruthless Kings MC Atlantic City #2) - K.L. Savage Page 0,77
there were, but all you can do is adapt as you go. You’re allowed to lose it. You’re allowed to freak the fuck out. I would. I would be scared out of my mind.”
“I am. I can’t string together a cohesive thought. It’s like my mind is going a hundred-miles-an-hour. I can’t focus. It only makes me feel worse for Wolf. No wonder he is off-the-wall.”
“Yeah, people deal differently. You aren’t weak for being worried and scared, Kansas. It’s okay.”
I nod, leaning my head back against the wall. I stare at Violet, eyes still shut as if she didn’t just flatline and have a needle in her chest.
“How are her sisters?” I should have asked earlier, but my focus has only been on Violet.
“They are doing really well. Victoria will need to be in a back brace for a while, and Veronica has pins and plates in her arm to repair the break, but they will wake up soon, sooner than Violet.”
“Why is that?”
“Technically she had brain surgery. Patients always take longer to wake up from that. Be patient, she’ll wake up. I’m going to go get something to drink. Do you want me to bring you anything?”
“Yeah, water would be great, thank you.”
“Any snacks?”
I shake my head. “I couldn’t eat right now, thanks though.”
He leaves the room, and I can’t help but notice how confident he is in a hospital setting. He is in his zone. I’m so damn thankful he is here. I trust him, and if I can trust him, then I have to believe she is going to be okay.
“I’m going to kill that asshole that did this to you and your sisters. I’m going to find him. I’ll get retribution. I don’t care what needs to be done or who I need to kill to do it. He will never hurt you again.” I take her hand in mine again and place my head on the mattress next to her arm. “Not right now. Right now, I’m going to stay by your side. I can’t be anywhere else when I know you’re here.”
I kiss her thumb. The faint scent of peaches somehow managed to survive on her skin. I inhale, close my eyes, and remember the first time I held her in my arms.
She was in a hospital bed.
“We really have to stop meeting like this,” I say with a sad laugh.
I place her hand under my cheek, and my eyes drift, heavy from the emotional day and stress. As I said, I refuse to leave her. I’ll sleep here for weeks if I have to.
I’m not sure how long I fall asleep for. Hours, minutes, I don’t know, because I can’t see the clock when I snap my eyes open. The room is dark, quiet, but I feel something.
My instincts are never off.
I reach into the back of my waistband and grab my gold-plated gun, aiming it at the corner of the room. “You better reveal yourself before I blow your fucking head off,” I warn.
A beat passes with no answer, and I cock the weapon, the click louder than the beep of the machine. “I don’t mind leaving a hole where your heart used to be.”
A maniacal chuckle drifts from the shadows, sounding as vile as a villain in a movie.
“Yer a smart man, Amos Taylor.” The light Irish lilt has my finger on the trigger.
The Irish fucking Crow. He’s here.
I flip on the lamp on the side of the bed and am greeted with a tall, imposing man in a pristine suit, hands casually in his pockets, and a wicked grin on his face.
“How do you know me? You know what, I don’t care. I’m going to fucking kill you,” I grit through tight teeth.
“No, ye aren’t.” He takes a step out of the dark. “I didn’t do this. Regardless of what my reputation says, I do not kill innocent women.”
But he does kill women. At least that’s what he implies.
“If you didn’t, who did?” I ask.
“I’d like to know that too, considering these are my godchildren.”
No.
Fucking.
Way.
I blink my eyes open. They are heavy, gritty with sleep, and I want to immediately fall back asleep, but the commotion in the room won’t allow me. My head is pounding, and I need them to lower their voices, because ow.
“You expect me to believe that?”
That’s Boomer. What is he doing here?
“Ta be frank, boyo, I don’t give a fuck what ya believe.”
Who the hell is that? He sounds Irish. I think. Am I dreaming?