Misfit (Death Dwellers MC #6) (52 page)

Cash rose to his knees and tapped his cock on Stretch’s lips, not losing eye contact as he sank into the warmth of his mouth. Stretch licked his cock crown, then sucked him into his mouth again. Admiring Stretch’s dick rose from his manscape, Cash groaned, his balls tightening. A bead of cum glistened from Stretch’s dick head, watering Cash’s mouth. Prick still in Stretch’s mouth, Cash laid over Stretch’s body, and took the man’s hard cock between his lips. For a few minutes, they enjoyed the mutual pleasure, until Cash sucked harder, faster, determined to draw Stretch’s cum out.

Stretch’s back arched and he grunted, releasing into Cash’s mouth. Satisfied, Cash shot off. Breathing hard, he laid next to Stretch and took him into his arms.

He kissed his shoulder, his grief and heartache assuaged for the moment. Nothing would alleviate it until he saw Fee. “We’re going to the hospital and pretend this doesn’t affect us anymore than it does the rest of the guys. Understand?”

“I don’t know if I can,” he admitted.

Cash grabbed Stretch’s soft cock and massaged. “Of course you can. Fee needs us at her side. We can’t fucking bitch out because we’re afraid of what Outlaw might see in our faces.”

Stretch nodded. “We’d never forgive ourselves if she dies and we’re not at her side.”

“She’s not dying,” Cash gritted out. “Whatever else we’re facing we’re going to get through this.”

“We should have never given each other up,” Stretch whispered, echoing Cash’s thoughts. He’d be easy to convince. It was Fee who was stubborn. “We should’ve continued as we were.”

“She wasn’t happy,” Cash reminded him, releasing Stretch’s cock, and laying on his pillow. “You weren’t fucking happy.”

“Were you?” Bitter laughter escaped Stretch. “You must’ve been. You gave us up easy enough.”

“I wasn’t happy, but I’m not fucking crying over shit I can’t change.” Cash blew out a harsh breath, reminding himself not to lose his temper. “You and I together didn’t feel right without Fee here.”

“She’s not here now.”

“I needed comfort. I thought you did, too.”

Stretch stiffened. “This was a pity fuck?”

“We didn’t fuck,” he reminded him. “A pity suck, maybe?”

“Asshole.”

“Either way, we were pitying each other.”

Stretch faced Cash. “Once again, you’ve used sex in place of emotion. You could’ve comforted me without this. A hug would’ve done.”

Maybe, he did hide behind sex. Cash had never explored the accusation in depth. It wasn’t important now, since random sex was a thing of his past.

The doorbell rang, followed by urgent pounding.

“You’re expecting company?”

“No, but I’m not at the club and my phone is charging.” Standing, Cash reached for his jeans. “This is probably about Fee.”

Stretch stared at the ceiling. “You’re right.”

“Remember to play it cool.”

“I will.”

“Burn the fucking clothes you had on. They’re full of blood. Grab something from my closet to wear.”

“Ghost, you in here?”

Cash’s brows snapped together at the sound of Slipper’s voice. As if the gravity of Fee’s injury wasn’t enough. If the man found Stretch here, he’d kill both of them. Fuck!

Stretch lay frozen in silence and fear. Cash placed a finger over his lips.

As the bedroom door creaked open, Cash stepped into the hallway, forcing Slipper back.

Slipper offered a sly grin and indicated his cock. “I should’ve known you were in here fucking.”

This statement must’ve gone over well with Stretch. Not that Cash’s wild parties were a secret, but Stretch was at a very vulnerable place right now and Cash wanted to protect him. Besides, Cash hadn’t fucked anyone else since the breakup, although Slipper didn’t know that.

“How the fuck did you get into my house, motherfucker?” he growled, not responding to Slipper’s words.

“You don’t want me in your fucking house, keep your fucking door locked.”

Fuck, Cash had forgotten to lock the door behind Stretch. “What’s up?” he asked, irritated with himself.

Slipper made a production of looking up and down the short hallway. “Stretch around?”

“No,” Cash lied without flinching, remembering his bike. It must’ve been parked in front of the house. He wouldn’t ask, though, to raise Slipper’s suspicions even further. “Now what do you want? I’m neglecting my cock and it isn’t happy.”

“Prez sent me here. He wants you at Mercy Hospital. His kid sister bad off. Stabbed and beaten. Stretch reported a motherfucker named Noah is responsible. Outlaw’s real upset. We’re having an emergency meeting.”

“Fuck. I’ll be there soon.”

Slipper glanced at the door behind Cash. “I’ll wait for you. We can go together.”

Suspicion glinted in Slipper’s eyes. Cash gave in to the pressure, deciding to tread with care. He didn’t want to risk Stretch again. Ushering Slipper away would worsen the situation and he’d start to study Cash as Cowboy had Stretch before attacking him.

From time-to-time, rumors about Cash and Stretch circulated in the club. Cash laughed it off—as he laughed most things off. He had Outlaw’s support, but Prez couldn’t be with him at all times.

“You got a beer I can sip on while I wait?”

“Yeah. Go look in the refrigerator. Give me five minutes to get my keys and ID.” He paused at his short hallway. “Slipper?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time you walk the fuck in my house uninvited, you might fucking end up with a bullet between the eyes.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, brother,” Slipper said around a chuckle.

Returning to his bedroom, Cash slammed the door shut and turned the lock on the knob.

Stretch sat up, the sheet falling around his waist. “Is he—?”

Glaring, Cash shook his head and finished dressing. “Don’t leave immediately,” he advised in a low voice. “Slipper might have someone watching my place to verify my story.”

Stretch glanced toward the door, his hands trembling. His face clouded over, but Cash ignored the urge to comfort him.

Stealing a quick kiss from Stretch, Cash grabbed his keys and wallet, then headed for his bedroom door, half expecting to find Slipper loitering just beyond. Instead, the man was leaning against his kitchen counter, finishing off a beer.

“Let’s ride, motherfucker.” Cash forced a lightness into his voice that he didn’t feel. Ophelia’s injuries would call for solemnity, but if Cash gave in, he wouldn’t be able to reel it in.

Therefore, he did what he was best at by pretending to handle whatever he faced by rolling with the flow.

Stretch remained in Cash’s bed for the next half hour, listening for sounds and waiting for Slipper to return. As time ticked away and nothing happened, Stretch’s fear eased.

He glanced at his damaged leg. If he hadn’t been in such an upheaval over Fee, he would’ve been as self-conscious as always. There was no time for recriminations, blame, or dread. Fee needed him, as much as he’d needed her during his father’s funeral, when she’d turned into his warrior princess.

Standing, he limped to where he’d thrown his clothes aside and picked up his T-shirt, the white recolored with Fee’s blood. Seeing the dried crimson sent tears to Stretch’s eyes. Clutching it to his chest, he bowed his head, images of Fee and Hanson blurring in his mind. Instead of losing himself, he needed to school his emotions and get to the hospital.

A sound reached his ears. Footsteps.

Too late, he spotted his gun. The bedroom door pushed open. Shit! He had absolutely no excuse for being in Cash’s bedroom, buck ass naked, crying like a girl. He was fucking done for.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he reconciled his fate in his brain.

“Fuck, son, I thought you’d be fucking dressed by now.”

At Mort’s grumble, Stretch opened his eyes, in time to see the enforcer’s dreads swinging as he turned around.

“He still here?” Val peeped into the room and scowled at Stretch’s nudity.

He cleared his throat, his heart settling. “You’ve seen me naked before. At parties. Before you all married.”

“This shit different,” Mort pointed out. “Don’t have nothing against what you do, brother. It’s just knowing why you in Cash’s bedroom with your dick swinging.”

“Yeah,” Val agreed. “Images and all.”

“Why are you here?” The slight wobble in his voice indicated Stretch wasn’t as collected as he’d believed at hearing Mort and Val.

“Cash,” Mort said. “He wanted you to use us if the need arose, so get dressed and let’s blaze out.”

“Okay,” Stretch agreed, hurrying to Cash’s closet and picking out a white T-shirt and a pair of jeans, something generic and unidentifiable as a piece of clothing Cash wore.

“You can turn around,” Stretch said, once he dressed.

Facing Stretch, Mort stepped aside and allowed Val entry.

“We checked the neighborhood,” Val told him. “CSU still at the scene at the house where Fee was messed up.”

“Is she…?”

“She clinging to life,” Mort said. “Prez fucking furious. If Meggie wasn’t with him, he’d probably end up in jail.”

Val nodded. “Seeing Zoann so broken up not helping Outlaw.”

“Nor the fact that three of his sisters were murdered,” Mort added.

Shrugging into his cut and doing his best to ignore the crusted blood on it, Stretch busied himself with finding his keys and wallet, in an effort to keep his expression neutral. “I’m needed at the hospital? Or can I start searching for the motherfucker who hurt Prez’s sister?”

“You needed there,” Mort said. “We are, too. Slipper was watching Cash like a fucking hawk, so he couldn’t break away and call you. He sent us fucking texts. We had to blaze here for fucking surveillance. Couldn’t have you walking the fuck out and have motherfuckers waiting for your ass.”

Stretch gave a half-smile. “Thanks, brother.”

“We got your back,” Mort assured him, turning and walking out the room so they could head back to the hospital.

Cash couldn’t shake Slipper and his scrutiny. Maybe, it was a good thing. It allowed him to focus on his surroundings and narrow-minded motherfuckers.

“Ghost,” Outlaw called, shocking Cash. For the first time in weeks, his road name was being used.

Cash didn’t know why Outlaw had stopped referring to him as Ghost, and hadn’t bothered to ask. He enjoyed separate identities.

“How’s Fee?” he asked, walking to where Outlaw sat with Johnnie, Digger, Slipper and sons, and Potter.

On the other side of the room, Meggie and Zoann spoke quietly, their devastation hard to miss.

“Is Fee…?” No! She wasn’t dead. Outlaw wouldn’t be sitting so calmly.

Cash reminded himself he couldn’t show any emotion. That, beyond concern as Prez’s brother, he couldn’t demand answers or go ape-shit tearing this motherfucking town apart, searching for Noah. At least, until Outlaw gave the order.

Outlaw scrubbed a hand over his face. He looked, haggard, angry, and helpless. As Fee’s big brother, he’d want to protect her.

Cash identified. He’d wanted the best for Georgie. The times he’d gotten the calls about her various hospital stays, Cash not only felt tired and helpless, but guilty. He’d left Georgie to her own devices. Josh had, too, and they both had the nerve to pass judgment on Abby Mason. The woman had followed her heart. That was more than he could say for any of them.

She’d stuck by Parnell. She’d stuck by Georgie, when none of them had. It hadn’t been anyone’s responsibility to look after his little sister, except their parents. Unfortunately, shit-for-brains made shit-for-parents.

So, yes, Cash knew how Outlaw felt.

Cash looked at his watch, wondering how long it would take for Stretch to arrive. He also hoped Val and Mort hadn’t run into problems.

“How’s Fee?” he asked no one in particular, since Outlaw hadn’t answered.

“In surgery,” Johnnie said, his face devoid of expression, the monster inside of him unleashed. The motherfucker had to take a back seat to Cash. He might not be able to openly show his worry, but he intended to show his rage. All in the name of brotherhood, of course.

“She bad off,” Digger told him, the one ally amongst them in his relationship with Fee. His
public service announcement
warning Cash away…had that only been several months ago?

Now…now…FUCK!

Cash stood, anger and desperation nauseating him. She couldn’t fucking die. Not his Fee. The time they’d spent in Kansas City—the time that spurred her to demand more—hit him in the center of his chest.

He’d been such a fucking asshole.

Stumbling to the hallway, Cash leaned against the wall and covered his face. He’d told Stretch to school his emotion, always the arrogant motherfucker. Someone should’ve warned him. Worse, he couldn’t seek Stretch’s comfort. He had to deal on his own and pretend the thought of Fee dying didn’t shatter him.

As much as Hanson’s death had ruined Stretch. He’d faulted himself, having no other outlet for his grief. Unless he’d decided to leave the club, he would’ve lost his life if he’d admitted to the reason he was so broken.

“Cash?”

Zoann’s voice made Cash lift his head to find her and Meggie in front of him.

He straightened and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Hey, Sweetness,” he greeted, plastering a smile on his face. “Zoann.”

She rubbed his arm. “My sister’s strong. She’s going to pull through.”

He wanted to come back with a smart-ass comment, something questioning why she’d singled him out. Hadn’t he broken it off to hide their relationship? But Zoann was offering him comfort. As if she knew. Unable to pretend, he nodded.

“Oh, Cash,” Meggie whispered, standing on tiptoe to hug him.

“She can’t die,” he said on a swallow.

“She won’t.”

“No, she won’t,” Zoann said, sharper than Meggie. “If you believe otherwise, I’ll kick your ass here and now.”

He gave a watery laugh, not moving when Meggie thumbed his cheek. His tear horrified him. Then it dawned on him and he sighed. “You told Zoann about us, Meggie.”

“Fee told her.” Meggie released him with a kiss to his cheek. “I’d never betray you. That’s your story to tell. Not mine.”

Zoann nodded. “Fee loves you and Stretch.”

Cash clamped his jaw, refusing to admit his own feelings. If he lost her after admitting…No!

“She’s moved on,” he said. To a motherfucker who’d shortly be dead but that was neither here nor there.

“You left her no choice,” Zoann reminded him.

“Outlaw would…”

“Beat you for disobeying him,” Meggie stated, “but as long as Fee was happy, he’d come around.”

“You’d have to give up the Bobs.”

He winced at Zoann’s statement. He couldn’t believe he’d told his
mother
about those women.

“You’d have to show me, Christopher, and Johnnie that you’re worthy of Fee and Stretch,” she continued.

More in control of himself, he scowled at her. “No one interfered with you and Val.”

“
You
aren’t Val,” Zoann shot back. “You’re a good, decent man but I had a hand in how my relationship played out.
You
rejected my sister.”

“No arguing,” Meggie instructed, backing away. “Let’s go back to the waiting room before Christopher comes searching for me.”

“You’re right,” Zoann agreed and turned to leave.

“Zoann?” Cash called as Meggie kept walking.

“Yes?”

“You don’t care that Fee would be with me
and
Stretch?”

“No. I would care if she was with you and another woman.” She smirked at him. “My little sister being with two hot guys, both sexy bikers, will get no complaints from me, as long as they treat her right.”

Cash grinned at Zoann’s saucy tone, seeing her in a new light. Maybe, it was time he really got to know these women, instead of indulging them on his whim.

All in good time. First, Fee had to survive so he could show her all that he had to offer.