Page 96 of Hash

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. You think I want to do this anymore than you do?” I tell Frigg as I place her in her carrier and close the door. “Let’s go.”

I lock the front door behind me even though I shouldn’t bother because anyone can just walk on in at this point.

“It’s about goddamn time,” Prez says as he rounds the car, heading for his bike. “They’re both still passed out.”

It’s a good thing for Cormac, but even though Doc assured me Aisling is going to be fine, it still makes me uneasy.

“Evan is going to drive the car back. Cyrus and I will lead with you taking up the rear and Doc behind you.”

I jerk my head at him, tension radiating throughout my body at the thought of letting someone else drive my woman and kid around.

“I promise I won’t speed, Hash. I can’t go faster than what Cain and Cyrus are doing, anyway.”

I exhale loudly. “I know. Let’s go.”

Our pipes roar in the night as we fire up our bikes and peel out of Aisling’s neighborhood in a line.

The taillights of Aisling’s car guide my way home because if it weren’t for them, I would be hunting.

Whoever fucking did this is a dead man.

Chapter

Twenty-Three

AISLING

What feels like someone banging against my temples pulls me out of my sleep. My eyes slowly flutter open but quickly shut, the light being too much to take.

Oh my God, I feel like I’m dying.

I roll over, chasing my favorite smell of weed, motor oil, and cedar but quickly realizing my mistake as pain radiates through my cheek, making me cry out.

The bedroom door bursts open. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Hash’s frantic voice sounds throughout the room as everything from the night before comes back to me.

“Where is Cormac?” I ask through the pain.

He better be okay.

“He’s right here, baby doll. He’s still sleeping. He had a long night.” Hash sits next to me on the bed, his hand coming to rest on my upper thigh. “How’s your head feeling?”

I force my eyes open and make myself sit up on my elbows as I look to the side of me, seeing Cormac, who looks untouched, passed out in his pack n play.

Thank God.

Thank God my baby is okay.

“Like someone ran me over with their car,” I tell him, my voice sounding scratchy from my dry throat.

Hash leans over and grabs a bottle of water off the nightstand, twists the cap off and hands it to me.

“Thank you.”

Hash’s eyes roam my face as I down half the bottle of water, locking in on my cheek, making his jaw tense.

“I know you’re probably not feeling up to talking right now, but I need to know what happened.” Hash’s voice is low, making sure not to wake Cormac but no less lethal.

I’m worried that if I tell him what happened and how I was feeling weird all yesterday and didn’t tell him, he’s going to be mad at me. Realistically, the two probably have nothing to do with each other, but on the other hand, I’ve never been one to believe in coincidences like that.