Page 68 of Cries of Cassie

A door swings open to a small closet, and out comes our rat. While it wouldn't have been a problem to out himself now that his club is dismantled, he earns a bullet with his choice of words.

"I can't believe the bitch made it! You shoulda heard her screams," the fucker laughs and reaches to slap me on the shoulder.

As if he didn't sign a death warrant.

Before he can touch me or say one more thing about my strong, beautiful, unconscious old lady, my gun is out of my jeans and firing right at his fucking kneecap. The asshole collapses in a ridiculous heap on the floor, and I feel nothing.

"AHHH! MOTHERFUCKER!! WHY?!"

What does surprise me is the stray bullet flying over his shoulder as he drops like a sack of rocks. Not my bullet.

A man I don't recognize in a cut that intrigues me, steps up beside me and glares down at the fuckwit bleeding all over the floor. "You made me miss," the newcomer pouts. "I was going to shoot his shoulder, then bring him home with us. Teach this fucker a lesson before he died."

"Who the hell are you?" I ask, slightly alarmed that there's another club here.

This guy looks like a fucking surfer with his wild blond curls, but the deranged look in his eyes and wicked grin clue me into his character. "Black Veil MC of Ashford. We're total Shadow Daddy vibes. That's us. Do you want him or can we have him? He needs to pay. Names Niklaus. Nik for short. Nice to meet you, Koa."

The fuck is happening? I didn't tell him my name.

Connor steps between us with a scowl before I can figure out what to ask Nik. "What the fuck was that, Koa?"

Nik stiffens a millisecond later at the sound of a woman's voice. I've never seen anyone turn more pale than he is now, and I think I have a good idea that something profound just stabbed him right in the damn soul.

"N-Nikki?" a small woman whimpers, inching out of the broom closet our rat was hiding in.

"I—" Niklaus stutters and clears his throat. "Excuse me," he mutters to me and Connor.

Tucking my gun away, I step back and away from what looks like a devastating reunion. I have one of my own to get back to. Addressing Connor's question takes a little finesse.

"You saw him come at me. His hand was coming for my throat, his words were vulgar, and he's a Chain Smokers scumbag. Self-defense, Con. Talk later," I say with a salute and rush after the gurney carrying my future.

I'd shoot anyone for speaking about Cassie in anything but a positive light. The rat deserved it for doing nothing to help her or us. Hiding in the closet while a battle ensues is cowardly. And whatever he was doing with the girl? Fuck. Yeah, Nik can have him.

"Not so fast," Connor huffs, catching up with me. "I'm driving you guys to the hospital. You three can't fit with both Cassidy and Ripley."

"Just get us there."

I need to see her alive and well soon, before I lose my shit. Hindering the process by demanding I hold her hand for the fifteen-minute drive would be selfish. She will have Rip if she wakes up. I'll be there soon. That will have to be enough for now.

Chapter Forty-Three

Ripley (Ripper)

Sit down, they tell me.

You need to rest.

You'll open your stitches, they warn.

You can't help her if you're bleeding out.

Lie down, or I'll make you. They sound far away.

All those voices, the ones demanding I take it easy and get off my feet so my stab wound has a chance at healing, mean absolutely nothing to me. The only words that pique my interest are about Cassidy.

I'm not here for me. Cassie is my focus. I could lose all the blood in my body and still be standing at the foot of her bed like the sentry I should have been this whole time.

She was beaten and tortured. All because I took my eyes off her. I knew I shouldn't have left. I fucking knew it. My woman just told me she suffers from chronic pain, and I what? Left her in an office so I could get to church on time?