Skeletons of Us (Unquiet Mind Book 2) (9 page)

She had taken about two gulps of the beer before a hard-faced Brock snatched it out of her hands, glaring a Killian for a second, as if this was his fault.

“What the fuck, Sparky?” he clipped. “You’re pregnant. You can’t drink fuckin’ beer.”

The small redhead glared up at her husband. “Yes, I
know
I’m pregnant. I’m very aware of the morning sickness, the swollen ankles, the heartburn,” she said, listing the things off on her fingers. “But it’s hot. Really freaking hot. And I want a fucking beer. It’s not going to kill the little thing. It’s your spawn after all. I bet the fetus would survive a nuclear apocalypse,” she snapped.

Both Lucky and Killian tried to hide their grins. Well, Killian did, but that was because his version of a grin was a slight upturned mouth. It was the best he could do. Lucky snorted with laughter. Brock’s old lady was something else. She was funny and fierce. A good woman. But not afraid to throw fire. Brock had his hands full with her.

“You’re not fuckin’ having one mouthful more when you’re pregnant with my baby,” Brock commanded.

She let out an exasperated noise, glared at him, then stormed out of the room. Lucky grinned at Brock, who was downing his beer in preparation to go after her.

Lucky raised his own. “Good luck, brother,” he said with sincerity. His own old lady was a spitfire. The brothers of the Sons of Templar MC needed a certain kind of woman. Once they found her, they’d die for her.

Brock set his beer down on the table. “I’ll need it,” he muttered before going after his wife.

Lucky chuckled. “Poor bastard.”

Killian’s eyes followed Brock and watched as Bull and Cade entered the room. He and Bull were on good terms, considering. Considering he broke his adopted daughter’s heart. Good terms meant Killian was still breathing after committing that particular sin, only because Bull understood why he did it.

To free her so she could fly.

They approached and Cade slapped Killian on the back. “You gonna earn me some money tomorrow night?” he asked, jerking his head at the prospect for a beer. His eyes were cold.

Killian nodded. “You know it.”

Killian made his brothers and the club in general some decent coin on these fights. There were still people stupid enough to fight against him.

Bull looked like he was about to say something when his phone started ringing and he glanced down, smiling slightly. Fucker never smiled, apart from for three people. His wife, his son, or Lexie.

He turned his back with a meaningful look to Killian so he knew who was on the other end of the phone.

He stepped slightly away, for Killian’s benefit, he knew.

“Lex, if your mother called you—” Killian heard him start, his voice amused.

But he didn’t finish his sentence and Killian immediately stiffened at the way his entire body froze.

“Lexie.” His low boom seemed to take over the room. Every inch of teasing had gone out of his voice. It was the voice Killian heard when they were in situations where Bull had to turn into someone else. The person he was before Mia, Lexie, and Rocko.

It was empty.

That meant danger. Killian set his beer down on the counter with a clatter and both Cade and Lucky registered the atmosphere, their faces grim.

There was a pause, one that nearly brought Killian to his knees in frustration. Bull had turned around. His face was blank, but his eyes locked with Killian. Killian flinched when he saw what was behind that empty, cold look.

Fear.

“Tell me where you are right now, Lexie,” Bull barked into the phone.

Kill stood close to him, ready to go wherever the fuck she was, to hell and back if he had to. He’d already been there; he knew the way.

“You need to get out of there right now. Are you listening to me, Lexie? You need to get out of there and call the police. I’m coming to get you.”

Killian’s blood went cold, and he kept stride with Bull as he started moving out of the clubhouse. He knew Cade and Lucky followed.

Bull listened to something on the other end of the phone. Killian resisted the urge to snatch it from his hands, barely.

Bull stopped in the middle of the parking lot, halfway to his bike. “Fuck!” he yelled.

It was that one word, the raw emotion behind it, that had Killian’s body turn to granite. A million nightmares flittered through his mind. A million ways for his freckles to be hurt. He wasn’t there. Something was happening, and
he wasn’t fucking there
.

“Are you hurt?” He heard the tail end of Bull’s question and his thoughts froze. His heart stopped beating. If the answer was bad, he wasn’t sure it’d beat again.

Killian clenched his fists when Bull’s face drained of color. “A little blood?” he said quietly.

Killian couldn’t move. Freckles. Bleeding. No.
Fuck
.

“Where are you bleeding, Lexie?”

Killian should have listened for the answer to that question. He should have, but he got lost in his head. The multitude of images made him taste bile. And when he emerged again, it seemed Bull had said other things, but he missed them. He had no idea where his freckles was bleeding from.

“You stay there and I’m coming to get you. Right now.”

Bull pulled the phone from his ear and went to turn, but Killian stepped forward, blocking his way. He had to stop himself from clutching the sides of his cut.

“What the fuck is going on? Is Lexie okay?” he asked, or more liked pleaded.

Bull regarded him with that empty stare, the one of a killer. He only had one goal, Killian knew, and he was retreating into the dark place to accomplish it.

Not good.

“You need to get out of my way, brother.”

“You need to tell me what the fuck is going on with my girl!” Killian yelled in his face, no longer being able to tamp down his fury, his panic.

Bull seemed to blink away some of that coldness. “She’s okay. Mostly. Some fucker broke into her house. Sounds like Duke’s bleedin’ out. Police are there. Need to get to her,” he informed him.

Killian registered his words like they were slow-working poison, the pain settling in as the meaning did.

“She’s not your girl,” Bull said, not unkindly. “Not anymore.”

Killian gave him a look. “Yes, she is. She’s always been. And I’m going to get her.”

I squinted at the bright light thrust into my eyes.

“Any nausea? Dizziness?” the doctor asked once I’d blinked away the spots.

“No. I’m fine. I need to know about my friend.”

The woman’s eyes softened just a little, but the rest of her face stayed blank, clinical. It was a mask she wore every day, I guessed. A mask of indifference. You’d need it if you dealt in death. That’s what doctors did. Yeah, they dealt in life too—delivered babies, saved people—but there would always be the ones they couldn’t save.

Like Duke.

My stomach swirled with ash at the thought of him. Of the blood. Of him never smiling again. Being gone. Because of me.

“Your friend is still in surgery,” she replied. “I’ll let you know what I can as soon as I can. For now, let’s focus on you.”

“I’m fine,” I repeated.

She eyed me shrewdly. “That’s a serious knock on the head. I’d prefer to keep you for observation…” She trailed of, gaging my reaction. “But I’m guessing I couldn’t convince you to do that.”

I shook my head, wincing at the pain from the motion.

She pursed her lips, looking unhappy. “Okay, I can’t force you.” Her head turned toward the door. “The police want to talk to you. Are you up to that?”

I took a deep breath in an attempt to hold myself together. I had no other choice. “Yeah,” I lied.

She looked at me again, this time her gaze settling on my tee and pants. “I’ll see about getting you some scrubs.”

I followed her gaze. My white jeans and grey tee were no longer those colors. They were red. Covered in it like some kind of dye. But it wasn’t dye. It was blood. I was covered in Duke’s blood.

Keep it together, Lexie.

It was through sheer force of will that I managed to stop my body from shaking and keep my breath from coming in strangled gasps as I registered the fact I was covered in my friend’s blood.

“Thank you,” I said quietly, meeting the doctor’s eyes.

She smiled. “A nurse will be in soon to check your vitals. If you feel any of the things we discussed, I need you to call me straight away.”

I nodded again, wincing at the movement.

She gave me a kind look before leaving the room, and shortly after, two police, including the one from a few weeks ago, came in.

“Are you sure it was the same person that was outside your house two weeks ago?” Felix asked. He was the salt and pepper cop. The name totally didn’t suit him. He needed something like Burt or Sterling.

I chewed my lip. “Yes.”

The other cop, a younger one who had been questioning everything I’d said thus far, regarded me. “But you didn’t actually
see
him either time, not properly. How can you be sure?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “I’m sure. I know. I could feel it.”

He raised his brows. “You could
feel
it?”

I frowned at the skepticism in his tone. “Yes. It felt the same as the time I saw the man outside the window.”

He glanced to his pad. “But you didn’t actually see the person either time, so you can’t be sure?” he asked. Then he glanced to my head. “And you’ve had a head injury. Those things can mess with your recollection.”

“What exactly are you trying to say, officer?” I asked coldly.

Felix stepped forward, frowning at his partner. “We’re just trying to get all of the information,” he cut in.

“Yeah, well, maybe if you’d been focusing on actually catching this person instead of trying to get information, he might not have almost killed my friend,” I replied, venom in my voice. It wasn’t exactly fair to place the blame on the cop who had been kind, but I was angry. I needed to channel it somewhere. More importantly, I was scared. Really fucking terrified.

Felix seemed to understand this and he nodded. “We’ll do our best to catch him.”

Their best. I couldn’t help but doubt this. Doubt them. I had a family who held little trust for law enforcement. I found myself yearning for that family. For the protection they offered. The safety. That’s why I’d hung up on the operator and called Zane. It wasn’t the police who’d found and rescued my mom. It wasn’t the police who’d taken a bullet for me.

I sucked in a breath as soon as my mind wandered to him. To that memory. I ached for Killian. So much I thought I might not survive it. But I had to. I had no choice.

I didn’t have him to protect me anymore. I had to protect myself.

*****

I was finished with the police and it was safe to say they were taking the case seriously. My house was now a crime scene. My mind stuttered over that thought. Was it a crime scene or a murder scene?

I kept pacing, unable to think clearly. It had been hours which felt like years since I’d heard anything, since they’d rushed Duke behind doors, shouting things like “He’s crashing” and “Blood transfusion.”

I should have called someone, I guessed. Called Zane back to tell him I was okay. Called my mom. Called my boys.

But I couldn’t. I was afraid I’d fall to pieces if I tried to speak to any of those people. Calling them now would make it real, and not some kind of warped nightmare that seemed to be the plot for some terrible movie.

We were in Hollywood after all.

I wondered if the press were swarming the hospital already. If the headlines were splashed everywhere. I hadn’t paid attention to who saw me when I ran into the hospital covered in blood. I was focused on Duke. I wondered if I even looked like myself. Whoever that was. Lexie Williams the rock star.

I didn’t look much like a rock star. I was still covered in blood. I should have cleaned it off, I knew. The scrubs given to me by the nurse were sitting in the corner of the room I was currently pacing in.

I would have put them on, but in truth, I was scared of what would happen if I stopped pacing. Stopped moving.

So I kept pacing in the private waiting room I was in. Celebrities got their own private waiting areas so fans or the general public couldn’t snap photos of them covered in blood and with a minor head injury.

Something moved in the doorway, something black. Something that made my heart stop. That made me freeze.

There was silence. Stillness. Like the whole world stopped spinning.

My eyes met ice blue ones. Ones I hadn’t seen for almost four years. I blinked rapidly. This had to be some kind of hallucination brought on by shock. But the vision of him didn’t flicker.
      

He was frozen too, those ice blue eyes capturing me in his gaze, taking me back in time. Taking me back to when those blue eyes meant something. Safety. Love.

Now they only meant destruction.

Problem was, there was precious little left of me to destroy.

The bigger problem was, I’d give him every last piece of me to destroy if I could seek solace in those familiar yet foreign arms for even a moment. So they could hold me together when I was on the precipice of falling apart.