I grabbed it before anyone else saw and tucked it into my pocket to get rid of later. Then, I told Kid to get the name or number of someone who could come pick him up. If he couldn’t, he was to call a cab and just get him the hell out of here as quickly as possible.
I’ve taken care of my brothers when they’ve needed help, but it’s been a long time since I’ve tried to clean up the mess caused by an addict. I’m just glad I was there and got him out before he caused any real trouble. I left after that, ready to pass out for the night until my head hit the pillow. For the past three hours, I’ve been tossing and turning, all kinds of questions bouncing around in my head.
What does Michael have to do with Death’s Road, other than his drug use? There’s no fucking good that can come with havinganytype of connection to them.
Does Sasha know who Michael is getting his drugs from? Her life is in danger just for being associated with him.
Fuck.
I run a hand through my hair and take a deep breath. I’m fucking stressed the fuck out. That stuff with Michael and Death’s Road is only the tip of the iceberg. I can’t worry about anything else until my first set of problems gets resolved.
Will Iron live?
Will Stone let Sasha live?
If Sasha survives, am I as fucked as I think I am?
I don’t doubt it.
Sasha will reject me no matter what. Kidnapping or no kidnapping, she’s a smart girl. She knows when to stay away from danger. Not only that, but my brothers would never allow it. There’s too muchhistorythere. If I would have brought her to this clubhouse under different circumstances, they may have welcomed her.
But now? No fucking way.
I try to focus my thoughts on something else. When I was little and couldn’t fall asleep, I would think about what it would be like to have a happy, loving family. After I met Iron and Patty, I didn’t have to lie awake for hours wondering anymore. I had it. But over the past few years, my sleep troubles have slowly started creeping back in. The only thing that’s helped soothe my mind for the past two years has been thoughts ofher.
Hazel eyes and a wistful smile that barely reaches them. To everyone, she’s happy, content.
To me? She’s unfulfilled and lonely. I know because I recognize those same traits in myself.
I check the clock on my bedside table.
11:17 PM.
I wonder if she’s asleep right now. I laugh without humor at the thought. I know what sleeping on a concrete floor feels like. It fucking feels like sleeping on concrete—no fucking good.
Is she hungry? Thirsty? Cold?
Don’t get up. If someone catches you, you won’t be able to explain your way out of it.
But my body moves anyway, as though my heart knocked my brain out cold and took full control of me. I know where I’m headed.
I’m worried I’m going to get both of us killed, but the desire to be near her, to take care of her, is stronger than the fear of us going down in flames together.
Chapter Eleven
Back in the kitchen,I warm up some leftovers from dinner as quietly as I can. Fuck Stone and his issue with giving her a warm meal. The caretaker in me—the same one that yearned to make sure my parents were fed when they were unable to do it for themselves—has come roaring back.
I take the food down to the basement, along with another bottle of water for her. Turning the lock, I open the door slowly in the event she really was able to fall asleep. She sits up quickly and backs into the corner as I open the door fully.
“Who—whos’ there?” she asks nervously.
She places a hand out, blocking the light that streams in from the basement behind me, so she can see me more clearly.
“It’s just me. Blade.”
Quickly, she stands but doesn’t move from the corner.
“It’s okay; I just brought you more food and water.”