Page 82 of Lane

“Where would the fun be in that?”

Oleander stepped up alongside me. “May I?”

“Of course. This is free for whoever wants to fuck this asshole up.”

He crouched on the floor near Ulrich’s chest and lifted his gun. Oleander placed the barrel along the side of Ulrich’s face, near his ear, and fired, blowing his ear off, leaving nothing but a bloody mess as Ulrich screamed in pain. Then he pressed the gun to the shoulder I hadn’t shot and pulled the trigger again.

Standing, Oleander said, “That wasn’t as satisfying as I thought it would be.” Blood splattered his hand, body, and face.

“It’s because he’s still breathing,” Raiden seethed. “Can I?”

I nodded. Raiden needed to have his revenge for what Ulrich had taken from him.

He aimed and fired right into Ulrich’s crotch. Even I flinched. Raiden’s next bullet landed between Ulrich’s eyes, the kill shot.

In my mind, I wanted to do it. This fucker was here because of me. But Raiden lost his dad. He deserved to kill Ulrich.

Oleander’s phone started ringing. He put his gun in his other hand and reached into his pocket, getting more blood on himself to gather his phone. “Rory?”

He didn’t put it on speaker, so we couldn’t hear.

Oleander’s eyes welled with tears; my heart started faltering in my chest. No, Sheldon couldn’t… Oleander let out a choked sob and hung up, the phone falling from his hand as he bent at the waist, sucking in gasps of breath as he cried.

“Ollie?” Raiden whispered brokenly.

“He’s alive,” he cried. “Shel’s alive. He’s not out of the woods but he pulled through the surgery.”

“Thank fuck,” I breathed.

This day was fucking terrible. Absolutely fucking awful. We had to hope Sheldon made it through the night and Jordan’s shoulder could be repaired. We weren’t all safe and healthy yet, but none of us had died today. I couldn’t say the same for Ulrich and the pack of assholes who chose the wrong side in this battle.

35

RAIDEN

By the time we arrived home from killing Ulrich and coordinating with others on Jordan’s payroll to stage a scene and clean up Thirteen, it was late. We were exhausted, but we didn’t fall asleep until we knew both Jordan and Sheldon were going to be okay, which meant it was early the next morning. We finally fell asleep around five. We were at the hospital for a bit to pick up Alton and check in on both men, but there wasn’t anything we could do. It was in the hands of the doctors.

We had showered when we arrived home. By the time the updates came in with Jordan out of surgery to repair his shoulder, Sheldon’s vitals improving, and Alton’s niece was born, we passed out for a solid twelve hours.

When I woke, I couldn’t pull myself out of the fog I was in. There weren’t any dreams to suck me back under. I had Alton and Lane in my arms. The fog eventually won and returned me to sleep a second time. That was when the dream started, one I couldn’t tell from reality.

“God, Lane, your ass…” I murmured as I thrust into him. He was fucking tight from not letting me stretch him, insisting on needing the burn.

I couldn’t get enough of him. I’d never been in a hole so tight. Hands on my arms and a body at my back had me tipping my head against Alton’s shoulder, loving the way he heated me from behind. His dick slotted against my ass, rubbing between my cheeks but he didn’t press inside.

“I love you both so much,” I said.

Lying on my side with Lane’s leg back over mine, my dick buried inside him, and my hand behind me on Alton’s hip, it was nearly more than I could handle.

There was a reason I cherished this moment with them. Something happened but I couldn’t remember what. Lane clenched around me and all thought fled.

“Ray, fuck, you need to wake me like this all the time.”

Wake him?

Oh shit.

But this was a dream. I wasn’t fucking him while he was asleep.

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