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“Where is she?” he snarls, and I point over the edge of the bed.
“Dead, sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” I shrug, knowing he probably wanted to do the honours.
“Good,” he snaps, and sucks in a breath, scooting to the edge of the bed. I get to my feet, holding my arms out in case he falls as he grabs the bed and hoists himself up, wincing in agony.
“We just gotta get downstairs, big guy, then we’re going home,” I assure him, and he looks at me and gives me a fucking heartbreaking smile.
“Wherever you are is home,” he whispers.
“Yeah, you’ve lost too much blood, you’ll hate yourself for that later,” I tease. “But don’t worry, I’ll remind you that you said that when you’re calling me a brat again.”
He snorts and then groans in pain, his arm covering his chest. He has small knife marks and puncture wounds everywhere, too many to count, which is probably why there’s so much blood. He’s also naked, so I hurry away until I find some sweats and then kneel at his feet. “Use my head, let me help you,” I offer, as I hold them there.
He grips my hair, lifting one foot after the other, as I tug the sweats on before I get to my knees and pull them all the way up, covering him. I can’t ask if she hurt him that way, not yet, but if he wants to talk about it, I’m here. I won’t pressure him. I’m just so fucking glad he’s alive.
Getting to my feet, I wrap his arm around my shoulders, and we lumber from the room. He manages to hold some of his weight, but the farther we walk, the harder he’s leaning into me. It’s slow going, and when we hit the stairs, I can’t hear any more fighting. Each step is agony for him, and I have to grit my teeth at the pressure on my body.
By the time we reach the bottom, we’re both panting and covered in sweat. I manoeuvre him around the bodies, making sure none are my guys. I spot Sam in the corner and freeze for a second. His eyes are empty and unseeing, his face pale, his gun on the floor next to him like he dropped it, and there’s a hole in his chest.
Swallowing hard, I turn away, knowing I need to get Garrett free. The guys will meet me out there, I know it. They have to. We head through the front door and up the driveway, each step slower than the last, until I’m grunting, holding nearly all his weight. “Come on, big guy, stay fucking with me, okay? Not much farther.”
“Love you, baby,” he slurs, and I look up to see his face is pale and way too much blood is dripping from his chest.
“Oh no you fucking don’t, hold on!” I demand, and he snorts again.
“So bossy,” he murmurs.
“You know it, so fucking listen to me for once, you wanker.” I drag him as far as I can, just passing the gate, when I hear a noise and glance back.
As I hold Garrett against me, I see Ryder striding towards us. He slips his head under Garrett’s other shoulder and helps me. Kenzo isn’t far behind, but he’s holding his stomach and wincing, otherwise he seems okay.
“Where’s D?” I ask in concern, just as I see him stroll from the house with a cigarette in his mouth. He waves at me casually before flicking it back at the house and running towards us.
It takes all of three seconds.
The house explodes.
Chapter Fifty-Five
DIESEL
Garrett is in a bad way. He’s pale and losing a lot of blood. We manage to get him into the back seat. We leave Tony to clean up and bring number one, as his tattoos indicated, back home to us. All that matters right now is our family.
Our broken family. Kenzo is hurt. Garrett is dying…he can’t fucking die.
I can’t lose him.
Panic surges through me until I smash my head into the dashboard to silence it. Ryder glances over, grim-faced, as he starts the car and backs away. “Can’t die, die, no die, can’t die.” I don’t even know I’m talking until a slap lands across my head.
“He’s not fucking dying, you hear me? So shut the fuck up, D!” she screams, and I look back to see the tears in her eyes. Her dress is torn and covered in blood, and the terror in her eyes is because, despite her yell, she’s worried he will.
“Little Bird,” I whisper, trying to help her, but Garrett groans just then, and she turns back to him.
“I’m here, big guy, I’m here,” she whispers, and his eyes open slightly.
“Sorry, baby,” he murmurs.
“No, don’t you fucking apologise. Just stay with me, okay?” she demands, and he snorts and then screams in agony, the sound filling the car and causing Ryder to smash the gas pedal. I jolt in my seat as Kenzo grips Garrett’s head tight to stop him from moving.
