OWNED & UNTAMED (Back Down Devil MC #11) - London Casey Page 0,26

walked to the hallway and picked up the pill on the floor. I noticed a handful more on the bathroom floor. The only thing that made sense to me was that Jim must have had some kind of panic attack. Some sort of PTSD attack. So he went to the bathroom to get a pill. He had anxiety medicines to take but he went for the pain killers. To knock himself out. He twisted off the cap so hard pills went flying in the air. Then he took a few and walked to his bed with the bottle in his hand.

At least that’s what I hoped happened.

I walked outside to the porch, feeling lonely and angry.

I didn’t ask for any of this shit.

I remember the morning I came home from Niles’s house to find Jim passed out in bed, hungover, and my father on his hands and knees on the kitchen floor, unable to breathe. If I had been two minutes later, he would have died. But I was able to get him help, which saved his life for another year.

When I heard the rumble of the motorcycle, a sense of relief went through me. I couldn’t believe I was relying on Duke to help me. But there he was, flying up the driveway. He jumped off his ride and started to bolt toward the porch. He took the stairs two at a time and his right hand touched my hip.

“Christ, sweetie,” he said. “Where is he?”

“Bedroom,” I said.

“Did you call an ambulance?”

“No. I don’t think he OD’ed. But there were pills everywhere. If I call…”

I lost it. I broke down into tears.

“Shit,” Duke said. He threw his huge arms around me and hugged me. “Sweetie, it’ll be okay.” He kissed the top of my head. “I need to check on him. If he’s down, he’s got to get to a hospital. I could call in a favor to keep it off the record…”

He broke away from me and I grabbed at his hand. I felt the roughness of his palm, the calluses on his fingertips. I wondered how many people he had hurt and killed with those fingers.

Then I looked up to his eyes.

“Duke, thank you.”

“Always, sweetie,” he said and broke my hold on him.

I couldn’t help but follow him inside to see what he was going to do.

When he got to the bedroom, Jim was back to sleeping. Duke looked left, right, and then grabbed the trashcan in Jim’s room.

He looked back at me. “You might not want to watch this part.”

“Why?” I asked.

Duke didn’t respond. He grabbed Jim by the hair and pulled him to the edge of the bed.

“Goddammit, soldier,” Duke yelled. “What the fuck are you trying to prove? You don’t fucking drag others into your hell. Not your goddamn sister. You understand me?”

“Duke?” Jim asked.

“Time to get that shit out of your body.”

I stood in shock as Duke forced his fingers into Jim’s mouth. Jim heaved and then his stomach started to empty. I turned my head and couldn’t watch. But I heard it. The sound of Jim getting forcefully sick, heaving, groaning, and crying.

“Stop being a fucking asshole!” Duke yelled.

I looked and saw Duke coming at me. I jumped out of the way as he walked right by me. I chased after him as he walked to the bathroom and cleaned up the trashcan and his hands. He then grabbed a washcloth, wet it, and rushed right by me again.

By the time it was all said and done, Duke had Jim face down on the bed, a washcloth next to his mouth, and the empty trashcan next to the bed. He then took a chair from the dining room table and sat next to the bed.

He stuck his fingers into Jim’s neck and looked back at me. “He’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“I’m not a doctor, sweetie, but I’ve seen crazy shit. He probably took one or two more than he should have.” Duke took his fingers from Jim’s neck and grabbed the pill bottle. “These are strong but not the strongest. That’s a good thing. I’m sorry you had to go through this.”

“I’m numb,” I whispered. “To everything.”

Duke rose up and walked to the doorway. There was just inches between us. I blinked fast and a tear fell from my eye. Duke was there to catch it, spreading it across my cheek.

“There’s a million things I could say right now, Belle,” he said. “But none of it would matter or would be true. I hate