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Dirk did not give two shits about me, and that gleam in his eyes told me he sure as fuck wasn’t here to check on me and wish me quick healing.
He was here for revenge, for what he thought I did while we were still together. He wanted me to suffer, even if he didn’t care anything about me.
That made him even more dangerous. He wasn’t a man in love that lost. He was just a fucking psycho.
“Don’t touch that fucking button,” Dirk snarled when I tried sliding my hand over to the red nurse button on my bed. Nausea swirled in my gut. He was holding flowers, but he tossed them onto my bed without a care for the bouquet. “Been waiting for those fucking asshole bikers to leave since I found out you were here.”
I swallowed thickly. Why hadn’t Johnston warned me he was loitering around the hospital trying to see me? I would have been more prepared. Why hadn’t he at least warned the front desk? Did Johnston really think threatening Dirk away from me would make him stay away?
He was fucking stupid if he did.
“You need to leave,” I snapped at him, thankful my voice came out strong. I could see the cruel intent in his eyes, and I was in no condition to fight against him. I was weak and in a lot of pain. There was no way I’d have the strength or mentality to fight him. I wouldn’t be able to see past the blinding pain that I knew would engulf me.
“You ran from my bed and right into his, didn’t you?” he seethed, stepping closer to my bed, anger flashing in his eyes. He leaned over, using the bed to brace himself, and placed his hand right on top of the flowers, crushing them. “You’remine, Aaliyah.”
“I’m not youranything,” I hissed, anger fueling my fight. Where the hell were the nurses? Why hadn’t anyone noticed I was distressed?
He lurched forward and wrapped his hands around my throat. I choked, reaching up to claw at his hands, but just as I knew it would be, the fight was useless. Pain blinded me when I moved, trying to use my muscles to grip his wrists.
He shook me, and a choked scream ripped from my throat, pain lancing through my abdomen. Tears spilled down my cheeks. I drew blood with my nails, but he was so lost in his rage and jealousy that he didn’t even notice I was making him bleed. He didn’t even feel the pain.
“You’re mine!” he sneered, bringing his face closer to mine all while he tightened his grip even more. I couldn’t breathe. I beat against his chest and face, desperately needing air, my abdomen burning. The machines that monitored my vitals were going wild next to me, and black spots began to dance in my vision.
I was going to die here. I was going to die in a hospital right after their surgeon had worked so hard to keep me alive.
“If I can’t have you,no onegets to have you,” was the last thing I heard as my vision darkened, and blissful darkness wrapped me in its arms.
My only regret was that Johnston and I hadn’t gotten near enough time together. And I hoped Dirk got his karma for this.
And I hoped Johnston delivered that karma.
CHAPTER TEN
Johnston
“Chapel—now,” I barked once the officers and feds cleared off the lot, heading back to the police station. They hadn’t found a goddamn thing, but I needed to get shit in place to make sure we continued riding under the radar.
Rhodes’s hands were tied, just like I’d thought they were. But it didn’t make me any less pissed. But fuck if I could take that rage out on a cop. That’d only do nothing but make all this shit worse.
And land my ass in prison, unable to be out here with Aaliyah. It would leave my club without their president.
The king of this shit couldn’t go away like that.
Every fucking second those cops were here was a waste of time. And then when they left, every second all of us had to spend checking this clubhouse top to fucking bottom for bugs was more time I was away from my woman. I was in a foul mood, and all of the members were giving me a wide berth. I wasn’t above taking my shit out on them.
I pushed open the chapel doors and strode inside, growling at the gouge marks on the table I’d spent hundreds of fucking dollars on. I’d need to call someone to get it fixed. Just another thing to do on my endless list. I was used to officers, especially federal agents, tearing up my shit, but they’d never touched my table.
This time, they’d gone too goddamn far. But did they give a shit? Nope. They knew we’d never file anything against them, and even if we wanted to, it was all to easy for them to make it disappear. No goddamn point in stressing myself over it.
Once everyone was at the table and the doors were shut, I placed my hands flat on the stained wood, looking at each of my members. “Get this fucking place cleaned up.” They nodded. “Blayke,” I said, looking at my VP, “find out what the hell Wendy is running her mouth about. When she goes to jail, she gets permanently shut up. Order the hit.”
He grunted. “You sure you want to order that hit, Prez?” he asked. I narrowed my eyes at him. He was treading on thin ice. “Look, Johnston, all I’m saying is, those fucking feds are going to be watching her, lurking and waiting. They’re going to constantly be pressing her for information. May not be smart to order a hit, at least not right now.”
I scrubbed my hand down my face before scratching at the stubble along my jaw. Fuck, I needed to shave. I hated the scratchy feeling of having a damn beard.
Blayke had a point, and he was thinking clearer than I was at the moment. I had too much shit to deal with. Felt like the weight of the world was on my damn shoulders.
“I’ll think on it,” I finally grumbled.
