Page 41 of Ink

Fucking dead.

Chapter

Sixteen

INK

I’m white knuckling the steering wheel the whole way back to the clubhouse.

I should have taken her to the hospital to get checked out. Let them deal with everything and make whatever reports she wants to make. Maybe call someone who she actually feels safe with.

I just can’t bring myself to do it.

Instead, I texted Doc and told him I have a situation and to meet me at the clubhouse.

I have this need that’s overpowering any rational thought in my brain to see to it myself that she’s okay because if anyone else touches a hair on her head I’m going to snap their fucking finger off before I put a bullet between their eyes. The only way I can see that through is to keep an eye on her at all times. Whoever came for her at the motel is in for a wake-up call if they try to walk into the clubhouse and take her. They’ve already signed their death warrant.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, I spot Hash trailing being me. Cain is standing outside as we pull in. Hash must have told him something was up.

He doesn’t move from his spot as I get out of the truck, circling around the back to open Sutton’s door.

I gently slide my arms underneath her and lift, cradling her to my chest as I remove her from the backseat, careful to not bump her against anything in case she’s hurt in places I can’t see.

“I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that she doesn’t know she’s here?” Cain asks, ashing out a cigarette as I approach.

My fingers dig into Sutton’s sides harder than intended at his remark. I need to get Sutton settled inside with Doc so I can check myself before I do something that I’ll regret.

“What the fuck?” Cain’s face hardens as he looks over Sutton as we approach him. The bruises on her throat are now a deep purple, making it known to anyone who catches it exactly what happened. “You call Doc?”

“Told him to meet me here,” I grunt. “Looks like I beat him.”

Cain holds open the door to the clubhouse as I walk through with Sutton, who is still shaking in my arms.

I’ve seen a lot of shit, but nothing has ever scared me like this. This kind of stuff hits different.

“Shit,” Scotch exclaims, jumping up from his seat on the couch as he takes in the state of Sutton. “Who are we killing?”

“Don’t know yet. I’m goin’ to get her settled and try to get her to tell me what happened.” I roll my shoulders back as I reposition her in my arms slightly. Her long hair moves with me, flashing me her beat to fuck throat. My jaw clenches and my eye twitches. The rage threatening to boil over at any second.

“Check it, brother,” Scotch warns. I focus on a spot on the wall as I slowly breathe in and out through my nose.

“I’m good,” I say after a long moment.

“She doesn’t need your shit on top of her shit. It’s clear she means something to you or else you wouldn’t have brought her here. Let us know what you find out, and we’ll take care of it,” Cain says. You wouldn’t tell from his tone, but the fire is burning in his eyes. It wasn’t too long ago that his woman, Evan, got into her own situation and he almost lost her.

“He’s mine.”

“You get him first,” Cain counters. “Your shop is an extension of the club. Anyone that fucks with your shop wrote their own death wish by fucking with the Dirty Devils.”

“Tell Doc to come up to my room when he gets here.”

I take the stairs two at a time, wanting to be shut away from an audience. She’s passed out now. Fear induced adrenaline can leave you feeling like you just ran a marathon. My poor bunny is probably exhausted. I feel better having her in my space.

She hasn’t stirred as I walk into the ensuite bathroom.

“Sutton,” I say, gently shaking her.

Nothing.