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“He was going to kill her. Burn her,” Grant said.
By the time he got to Aria, she had already been passed out on that filthy-looking bed. Pat had been the one to suggest taking the metal clippers. It had been a hunch of his to take them and it was a good thing he had. Chained to a cemented bed. Miguel had planned it. The chains had been cemented on and given time to set. All he’d needed was the bodies of Aria and Lidia.
He put Aria’s life at risk. Him, no one else. He should have kept her at the clubhouse, protected her.
“You had no way of knowing.”
“I should have known. My plan was fucked up from the start.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“I nearly got us all killed.”
“Grant, your plan didn’t get us killed. Did it have a few hiccups, yes, but what plan doesn’t? Nothing always goes the way we hope it will. We got Miguel. Six of his guards are now gone. We’re bringing an end to his control on the club. This is a win. Your plan worked.”
“And what if she doesn’t wake up?” Grant asked. “What if I failed her?”
“You didn’t.”
“It’s my job to protect her. She’s my woman.”
Bull put his hand on his shoulder. “We can’t be everywhere all the time. I know this. If that was Maddie, I know I’d be feeling exactly the same way right now, but you cannot allow this to swallow you up. You won today. This is a win.”
He shook his head. It didn’t feel like a win.
A win was when nothing went wrong.
“I bet our old man is laughing at me right now.”
“No, I bet our old man, the one before he got hooked on the dope, would be fucking proud of you. Dad wasn’t always an asshole, Grant. Money, drugs, power, it got to him, turned him into the monster that he is.”
Grant could rarely remember the man he was before those vices gripped him. The bad in his world far outweighed any of the good in the early years.
“She’s gotta live,” he said.
“She will, but you know our job isn’t finished, don’t you?” Bull asked.
“I know.”
“Are you coming?”
Grant was tempted to say no, that he’d stay here with his woman.
“We’re here. How is she?”
Isabella and her husband Michael rushed toward them.
He glanced at them both then turned back to look through to his woman. “She’s in a coma.” Staring at Aria, she looked so lifeless and he hated how thin she looked. It had only been a couple of weeks, but already her extreme dieting had taken a toll.
When Miguel and his Cartel bastards were gone, he was going to fix this.
“Your mom’s not allowed here,” Grant said. “I’ve got to go and take care of something. I need you both to watch her.”
“Of course,” Isabella said, reaching out to touch Michael’s chest.
Grant watched him take a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. “Are we going to have a problem? I don’t care about her. The only woman I care about, the only woman I want, is laying in that hospital bed. There’s no competition here. There never was.”
“Michael, babe, please, we talked.”
