Page 4 of Wicked Deceit
“I’m checking myself out,” he grumbles, coming to sit on the edge of my bed, doing something he hasn’t done in a long time. He grabs my hand, squeezes my fingers, and sighs in relief from the contact. His entire body relaxes simultaneously as mine does, and our shoulders sag.
“Mr. West!” The nurse hisses. And just like I thought, she’s ripping us new assholes, but my brain hurts too much for this kind of verbal assault. “You are to be in this hospital until we can clear you to go home. You both probably have concussions, and who knows what else. Stay put in this room until we can confirm you’re okay,” she says, narrowing her eyes at us like we’re up to something.
“You and your dislike of hospitals will catch up to you one day,” I murmur, shaking my aching head. I don’t blame him for his dislike of this fucking place in particular. It brings back memories I don’t want to relive. Fuck. The world fucking swims, and my vision blurs. “Ugh. My head,” I groan, pushing my palms into my eyes to relieve the building pressure.
“Here, this will help,” the nurse says, softening her features. Sympathy roars through her eyes when she steps up and injects something amazing into my IV, relieving me of some of my pain. Instantly, it hits me, and my muscles relax. But my damn brain still hurts and throbs. “You boys need to be careful. I’ll turn down the lights, but you need to take it easy. And you, other Mr. West, you need to be incredibly careful. I'll allow you to stay here if you stay put. No leaving until we get your test results back,” she says, placing a hand on his shoulder, backtracking when he flinches. “I suggest staying right here. For now, you’re still under our care.” She gives him a pointed look until he reluctantly nods in agreement.
Zepp bites his cut lip, watching her pull the curtain back around us. The lights fade, bathing us in the faint glow from the hallway. The constant pressure twisting inside my skull finally eases a bit, and I relax back into the bed with a small sigh.
“Where is she?” He asks, turning his misty eyes towards mine. “Where’s Kace?”
“Believe me, brother, I’ve tried for fucking hours to get answers. And the assholes around here won’t tell me a damn thing,” I swallow hard, trying to keep the damn tears from leaking down my face. “They won’t tell me anything.” My voice breaks when I think of Kaycee lying injured somewhere in this hospital with no one familiar around her. Is she here? Is she somewhere else? Is she even fucking alive? What is she feeling right now? Is she scared? Looking for us? Fuck, we need to find her, so she knows we are okay. And I need to lay my hands on her and make sure she’s okay. I won’t believe a fucking word until my eyes are on her.
“What the hell happened?” Zepp breathes, widening his eyes on me.
I shake my head. “I… I don’t remember.” Swallowing the hard lump forming in my throat, I try conjuring up the memories of our trip home. But it’s all dark spots and static movies playing on repeat with no end in sight and definitely no fucking answers.
Zepp’s shoulders shake with emotions, and he hangs his head. “Whatever happened…. It was my fault. I was driving.”
Hands gripping the wheel. Knuckles turning white. Zepp’s emotions blasted through his eyes. Shit. Pain roars through the front of my mind, and I wince when flashes of our trip speed through my mind. Fuck, if I could just remember the whole thing.
“Zepp,” I croak, squeezing his hand again. “There’s no fucking way it was your fault.” I squint, trying to fight my damn headache off.
“How do you know?” Zepp murmurs, looking to me for answers. But I just shake my head.
A throat clearing draws our attention to a lone figure standing just inside our room, hovering near the drawn-back curtain. More light pours in from the hallway, painting him in a faint glow. His silhouette alone makes my heart skip frantically inside my chest when he enters the room. A suffocating aura of authority comes off him in waves. We're practically choking on it. No wonder this dickbag oversees a deadly cult.
My chest tightens when he stands off to the side, watching us with intense eyes. Much like Zepp, he's cataloging everything about us. From the freckles on our noses to the damn moles on our toes. Masked glee breaks through his deadly eyes when they finally settle on the multitude of bruises lining our bodies.
“Zeppelin and Seger West,” he says matter-of-factly with a small amount of glee laced in his tone. The edge of his lip ticks up in what looks like a satisfied smirk, sending shivers down my back. He’s a fucking shark on the attack. An ominous, uneasy feeling settles over me, sending goosebumps pebbling across my flesh, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Whatever he has to say won’t be fucking good or nice.
“Mr. Cunningham.” When Zepp says his name, his voice dips low, to a vicious growl. His spine snaps straight, only wincing once when he's at full height, but he doesn’t let it stop him from trying to intimidate the predator before us.
Carter's dad scowls. “It's Detective Cunningham to you, son. And I just have a few questions for you boys regarding the accident.”
Out of the corner of my eye, Zepp gives me a discreet nod and squeezes my hand again. Yeah, we fucking got this. We can take this asshole on and answer his questions as honestly as possible because we don't know shit about fuck.
“What about it?” I ask, trying to keep the snarl out of my voice. “And at two in the morning? Can’t this wait?” I narrow my eyes expecting him to answer, but instead, he ignores my complaint completely, pursing his lips.
“Who was driving the vehicle?” Cushing Cunningham asks, eyes darting between us.
His fingers reach into his pocket, and he pulls out a small notepad from his pants. Flipping it open, he taps the end of his pen against it and waits for our answer in the blistering silence. Sweat forms on my brow from the intensity of his stare, and I swear he can see right through us, and knows every answer. Fuck. He probably does and wants us to admit what happened. But it wasn’t our fault. Was it?
Zepp clears his throat, and all the guilt inside him displays like a fucking movie on his drooping face, showcasing every amount of guilt he feels. Exhaustion sweeps over him, and I can tell he’s about to spill his guilty guts and confide in this asshole about everything he knows.
Zepp’s mouth pops open, but before he can get any words out, a glaring woman steps inside our room and marches toward Cushing. She shakes her head with a scowl that could put the fear of God in the Pope. Shit.
I squint my eyes when she walks through the dark and stands before a baffled Mr.—oh my bad—Detective Cunningham. The realization hits me square in the chest and I sputter, choking on my spit. Standing before us is an older, darker-eyed, darker-haired version of the woman we love. And holy fuck, I thought Kaycee was scary when she was angry–well sometimes, just don’t tell her. Her angry voice grabs us by the balls every time she scowls at us, or snarks at us, and now I see where she gets it from. The woman snarling at the detective like he’s a pesky fly is Kaycee’s mother.
“No, no, and no,” she demands in a sharp voice, smoothing out her shirt. Stepping up to Detective Cunningham, she gives him the meanest scowl and snarl I’ve ever seen. “This is not happening right now, Sir.”
I nearly choke on my spit again when she repeatedly pokes a finger into his chest, forcing him to stumble back over his feet. I swear a stupefied expression passes over his face when he looks her over from head to toe. He even looks to us for help, but we offer him none.
His face reddens in anger, and a familiar vein bursts on his forehead, and when he goes to open his mouth again, she cuts him off.
“These children were just involved in a horrific accident. And by the report, your officers submitted two hours ago, the investigation is over. It was a hit and run. Isn’t that correct, Detective?” She raises a pointed brow, exuding so much confidence it fills the room, and suffocates us.
Cushing swipes at his nose and stands tall. “We may have deemed the investigation a hit-and-run, but we still like to talk to the people involved.”
