Skirt (Ruthless Kings MC #5) - K.L. Savage Page 0,45

figure on the floor. The body is jerking, spasming, foaming at the mouth.

“Aidan!” I cry and crawl over to him, holding his tiny, fragile body as he battles a seizure. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I got you. Mommy is here.” I pet my hand over his chestnut-colored hair and kiss the top of his head. “It will be over soon.”

And then he’s gone.

Now, I’m laying in a field. It’s green. “Aidan?” I search, but I don’t hear him. “Aidan!” my voice echoes through the empty space. Nothing is here. It’s just me. All alone.

Until I see something up ahead; it’s small. “Aidan?” I whisper to myself as I take a step forward. I’m barefoot. The grass is wet and soft, my toes sink into the mud, and it starts to rain. I run, but I’m not getting anywhere. The figure ahead is out of reach.

I slip and fall into a giant puddle. Mud ruins my white gown. I push myself up, gripping the earth, and worms wiggle and slither all over my hands. I flick them away with a disgusting shout, and that’s when I see the headstone.

Crawling on my hands and knees, the headstone is small, square, and made of simple marble. There’s a message engraved on the stone. I wipe the water out of my face, only to cake mud on my cheeks and read:

Aidan West.

Mommy let me die.

“No!” I scream at the top of my lungs as my soul is ripped from my body. “Aidan!” My hands dig into the dirt, like a dog digging for a bone, and I scoop the mud out and toss it away, only for the surface of the grave to be replaced. I’m sweating, burning with grief, but no matter how hard I dig, no matter how tight I grip the ground covering my baby, I get nowhere.

A hand shoots up from the grave, wrapping around my wrist, and suddenly the mud disappears, and Aidan’s face comes to view.

“You killed me, Mommy.”

“No. No! I would never, baby.”

“You left me with him.”

And then he’s gone, and a hand wraps around my throat and throws me in my own grave.

“I’m going to kill you just like I killed that bastard child that wasn’t mine.” Cohen stands above me with a shovel and begins to bury me alive. Dirt covers my face and gets into my mouth. I can’t breathe. The mud clogs my throat, my lungs are being filled with soil, and the harder I fight, the further I sink into the ground.

I open my mouth to scream.

“Woah, hey! I got ye. It’s okay.”

I’m lifted into a strong pair of comforting arms and I scrub my tongue with my fingers to get the dirt out of my mouth. I can’t breathe. Oh God. Aidan. I wail and crawl into Skirt’s lap, burying my face into his neck as I inhale the musky scent of sweat, leather, smoke, and blood.

“It’s okay, Lips. Yer safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to ye.”

“He’s dead. He’s dead. I know it. He’s dead. Skirt, oh God. I can’t—I can’t do this anymore. I need to find him.” I lean away from Skirt and place my fist to my chest. “I’m dying every day without him. There’s this weight on my chest, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t lift it. I’m afraid we aren’t ever going to find him.”

“We are going to find him. I promise, Dawn. I’m going to bring yer little boy back to ye. Yer here under my protection, the Ruthless Kings protection, and we will never settle for a child missing. I might have a lead.”

I lift my eyes from the red spot on his chest—blood—and meet his eyes. His cheek is swollen, and that’s the only mark on him that gives away that he’s just been in a fight. “What? Really? Tell me. I need to know!”

“The fighting I’m doing. The man says he can get me a fight with Cohen. If I can find Cohen, I’ll get Aidan. That I promise ye.” His forehead presses against mine, and the feel of him, his comfort, his power, his willingness to put his life on the line to get Aidan, erases the horrible dream I just had. I lay my cheek on his shoulder and rub my fingers down his back.

He’s so different than any man I’ve ever met. Skirt is rough around the edges, but he’s soft where it counts. His heart. He might not want to admit it,