Page 71 of Forsaking All Others

“No…no…no…please.”

Her pleas fall on deaf ears.

He tugs her away from the wall, pushes her onto her knees and drags her across the room, positioning her right by the door where Valeria will easily spot her when she comes to assess the carnage. Then he crouches down behind her and pins her hands together. Torque hands him the rope and Ghost makes quick work of binding her hands and feet. When he’s done, I make my way back to her.

“Tell your boss it would’ve been too much hassle to bring her King’s dick, so she’ll have to make do with his tongue.”

The girl’s eyes go wide as I hold out my open palm. Ghost reaches into his kutte and pulls out a Ziplock bag, dropping it in my hand. I close my fist around it and bend down in front of her. Petrified eyes meet mine and she shakes her head violently.

“What are you going to do with that…please…”

I drop the bag with King’s tongue on her lap and smooth my hand down her cheek.

“Don’t stray from the script, darlin,’ or I’ll find you and take your tongue too.”

She starts to cry again. Ghost rips the bandanna from his head and quickly rolls it into a ball, shoving it in her mouth. Satisfied with his work, he turns back to me.

“We done here?”

“We’re done,” I confirm.

He walks to the table and swipes his finger across one of the mounds of coke.

“Such a waste,” he mutters. Then he samples Valeria’s product and rubs his finger over his gums.

Such a waste is right.

* * *

I slidea finger under the collar of my shirt—damn thing is strangling me. It’s been a long time since I traded my kutte for a button-down shirt, but I didn’t want to push my luck with the man upstairs by walking into his house with the Devil on my back.

The service was intimate. Colt’s folks were both in a nursing home in Virginia and couldn’t travel, so aside from the few neighbors and two guys from Fat Cat’s, it was just me, Holly, the kids, and the club. Colt’s wishes were to be cremated, so there was an urn on top of the altar and a picture of him right next to it.

The minister paid homage to his life, praising him as a husband and a father and that’s when the flood gates opened for Holly. I didn’t know how to console her—wasn’t even sure she wanted me to.

I focused on the kids.

Theo didn’t really understand what was going on or why he was there staring at a picture of his dad, but Tara and Shep got it and they felt it. I held them close to me as the minister continued with the service and when he was finished, I dried their eyes.

Now the church has been cleared and I’m standing in the back pew, eyes on Holly’s back, watching as she holds Theo with one arm and extends the other to light a candle for the man who fixed her after I broke her.

I tear my eyes away from her and bow my head. With my boy at my left and my girl on my right, I silently pray.

It’s never too late.

Tara reaches for my hand and I turn to her.

“She’s going to be okay,” she whispers. “Theo too.”

I swallow hard against the lump in my throat and nod, squeezing her hand.

“You know how I know that?”

I don’t respond.

I can’t.

“They’ve got you.”

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