Page 104 of Hash

“At least clean the blood off my bag first, fucker,” Cyrus demands, his hands on his hips as he looks at the bloody mess.

I toss him a rag. “You’ve got two hands.”

Cyrus catches it midair. “Next time I need something cleaned up, you’re doing it.”

“I think we’ve cleaned up enough of your messes. This one doesn’t even make a dent,” Cain tells him. “Go on your ride. Evan is making her lunch right now. She’s safe here.”

I sigh as I nod.

I know she’s safe here.

That’s not the problem.

The problem is she isn’t safe with me.

When I got on my bike, I didn’t have a place in mind of where I wanted to go. I just knew I needed to ride. Feel the wind on my face. Knowing I have no responsibilities. No one relying on me.

Usually it works.

Except this time, I have a woman and son waiting on me.

How do I stay in their lives when I know they’ll always be in danger?

My subconscious must have been thinking about Aisling because before I know it, I’m pulling into the parking lot of the bar she and I would get drinks at before Cormac.

Before everything went to shit.

Back when everything was normal and there was no pressure of life closing in.

I park my bike and head inside, taking a seat at the bar.

I ordered an old fashioned, the same drink I would order when Aisling and I would sit up here and close it down.

I swirl the ball of ice around, watching the brown liquid move with it before I down it and flag the bartender down for another one.

“I can tell just by looking at a person that they’re having a rough time, and you, my friend, look like fucking shit.” A female voice sounds in my ear, and she takes the empty seat next to me.

“Delaney,” I greet as I stare straight ahead at the wall in front of me, my tone low and uninviting.

“Why are you here of all places and not at DD’s?”

“Because I didn’t want to run into anyone I know and have to talk to them,” I answer, not keeping my annoyance out of my tone.

Delaney let out a light laugh. “Sorry to crash your party.”

She doesn’t sound sorry at all.

“No, you’re not.”

“You’re right, I’m not.”

The bartender comes down to our end and takes Delaney’s order, leaving us as quickly as he came.

“Why are you here, Hash?” Delaney asks after she takes a sip of her drink.

“The same reason you are.” I tip my drink toward hers in emphasis.

I can feel her staring at me, and knowing Delaney, she isn’t buying my shit.