Page 105 of Redemption

“What the fuck do you think is, asshole? A hospital? Get the fuck out of here!” Ian shouts.

Colt turns and sees Ben. Blood seeps from a cut above his temple, and he jumps over the back of the couch, pushing him into the Chapel with Psycho close behind.

“What happened?” he asks.

“I got hit with a gun. Who the hell hits someone with a gun instead of shooting them? I think getting shot would’ve hurt less.”

“It doesn’t,” they say together.

“Who hit you?” Psycho asks.

He shrugs. “Don’t know. Lex seemed to know them, though,” Closing his eyes, he swallows. “She called out for you. When they attacked her, she cried out your name, Colt.”

His heart races, and his knees damn near buckle. Alexis Nichols, the woman who can’t look at him without hurt or anger in her eyes, called out for him when she was in danger? “Where’s Lex, Ben?”

“They took her, I think. They jumped out of a black van, and she fought them. She fought them hard, but there were four or five of them.”

“What did they look like?”

“I don’t remember,” he says and leans against the top of the table. “I feel like I drank an entire bottle of tequila. Worm and all.”

Colt grabs his shoulders. “Focus, Ben. It’s important.”

“Walk us through the night after you walked away from the bar with her. What happened?” Psycho tries.

“We fooled around in her room.”

Releasing his shoulders, he doesn’t think it would hurt worse if he suddenly burst into flames, and he steps back. This asshole fucked his wife. “What?”

“We messed around a bit, but then she asked me what you said outside the bar, and she ran out into the street. The van showed up, she said something about something being a message or warning or something.”

Psycho looks at Colt. “What?”

“The asshole outside her house that night I was there,” he mutters. The night he fucked his wife for the last time. He wasn’t the last one to screw her, though, apparently.

“A redheaded guy tried to grab her, but she fought him. I’m pretty sure she broke his nose. Another tried to get her, and she kicked the shit out of his knee. Looked like it hurt.”

“That’s my girl,” he mutters. “Did she kill anyone?”

He shakes his head and winces. He grabs his skull and moans. “No, but the guy with the Irish accent and wicked scars told them not to kill her. They needed her. What the hell do they need her for?”

“Scars?” Colt asks.

“I tried to help her, but he hit me with the butt of the gun. That’s the last thing I remember before waking up and finding them gone. No, wait, the scarred guy said not to kill me because someone has to tell you they had her.”

“Potbelly and a handlebar mustache?”

Ben blinks slowly. “Uh, yeah, if that’s the style of mustache. It looks so stupid.”

“Were they wearing kuttes? What was on them?” Psycho asks.

“Wearing what?”

Colt tugs on his leather. “One of these. Were any of them wearing any of these?”

“Yeah, they all were. And one wore a mask. She was staring really hard at him until one of them hit her.”

She knows one of them. Why cover his face otherwise? Colt’s unsettled feeling grows, and he kicks himself for not running outside. She called out for him. His body knew she was in trouble, and he let her down. Again. Will he ever stop disappointing the woman he loves?

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