Part 22 (1/2)

”Hoss sounded sincere,” she argues quietly.

Putting my hand to my forehead, I look down before craning my neck to glare at her on the bed. ”Jesus Christ in Heaven, of course he did!”

”What?”

”You aren't dumb, Emilyn.”

She's angry; I hear it in her next question. ”Why would he call me if she wasn't okay?”

”You're s.h.i.+ttin' me,” I tell her calmly. ”Tell me you didn't f.u.c.kin' make arrangements to go there.”

”I...”

Now, I'm enraged and don't let her answer. ”You did not set a time to meet,” I tell her, rather than question. ”'Cause you're not gonna make that meet if it means I gotta tie your a.s.s to this bed.”

”You're an a.s.s,” she snaps back while sitting up.

”You walk into that place...” I tell her then correct myself. ”No, you walk near that place, Em, and you won't be free to call me names again. Hoss isn't f.u.c.kin' around.”

”You said it was someone above him who has her. Maybe he's had a change of heart.”

”What?” This time, my voice bounces off the walls in fury. Moving around the room to find my jeans and boots, I talk as I dress. ”Stay out of this. You're not to go near Creed. Do you understand?”

”I want to see her,” she states the obvious, but this time with petulance.

”You wanna see her, I get it.” Turning around to her, I lean over and place both my hands on either side of her body. She freezes except to pull the covers up to her chin, reducing her already-exposed feelings. ”But you wanna see her safe, which means you keep your a.s.s out of Creed.”

”Okay,” she voices, this time nearly in tears.

I don't have time to console her. With my ears thumping to the sound of my own blood on fire, I finish dressing, kiss her hard, and make my way out of the bedroom door. Without looking back, I head out of the apartment.

As I stand next to my bike, I grab my phone and check the time. Two a.m. isn't a good time to call Tommy, but I don't have it in me to hold onto this after Hoss just overstepped his f.u.c.king place. And he did it without telling me.

I need someone to watch Em and make sure she doesn't do anything to put herself, Casey, or the plans in danger.

Jesus Christ.

Chapter Twenty-Five.

After waking Tommy, telling him what Hoss had done in calling Em, and settling him down from his nervousness, he agreed to help me with what I need. He's sending Natalie and Denver over early in the morning to help distract Em and keep her busy. He promised he'd check on her as time goes on and report back to me without her knowing his play.

I trust Tommy. I don't trust Hoss with Em's emotions, though, so the weight of all I'm bearing just got worse.

I stopped back by the apartment to pick up some things and before leaving, I left Em a note, not-so-nicely instructing her to stay put. Emilyn can be extremely headstrong at times, especially when it comes to Casey. It's important she gets my point and does exactly as I tell her. I'm not sure what Hoss is up to, but judging by his already shady character, it can't be anything good. And I'm determined to find out as soon as he gets back.

Finally arriving back at the club at four a.m., I find myself standing alone in the common room. It's dark and looks deserted, which is good. I hadn't wanted to talk to anyone-namely Dee Dee or Hangar-anyway.

As I walk through the dark hallway to find the room I slept in before, I stand motionless after I hear the sound of someone coming in my direction. Again, it's too dark to make out the figure; however, the heavy sobs as the footsteps draw closer can't be mistaken. Between the small pants of air and the continuous sobs of despair, I'm clearly able to make out it's a female in tears.

Just as I'm about to head into the room, I'm stopped in my tracks. Once I flip on the light, it immediately spills into the hallway and s.h.i.+nes on Dee Dee's swollen and nervous face. Her expression isn't one I remember her ever having, even when I held her by the throat and caged her against the wall in Casey's room.

”What are you...”

I don't finish my question before Dee Dee reaches out and grabs my wrist, squeezing it tightly to get my attention. ”It's bad. He really f.u.c.ked-up, Max. Help!”

”Dee Dee, calm the f.u.c.k down,” I insist, but she's not listening.

Her rambling continues. ”I need to find Cilas. I really need to find Cilas, Max. He's not in his room. Hangar's got...”

Just as she's about to finish, Cilas comes walking around the corner as though he heard his summons. Even in the dimmed light, his large body already casts a heavy shadow as he continues pacing in our direction.

”Cilas!” Dee Dee yells, releasing me and running toward him, her bare feet hitting the concrete floor with a smack at each pace. She grabs his arms much the same as she had grabbed my wrist. Cilas' eyes narrow as he throws her forward and jerks his arms back from her grasp in order to free himself.

The look he's now pinning me with, as though I did something to upset her to this degree, is menacing.

”Dee Dee, what the f.u.c.k are you goin' on about?” I ask for both Cilas and myself. ”Talk, d.a.m.n it.”

Inhaling a sob, she tries to explain what she knows. ”Hangar's gone crazy! He's got Anna!”

Cilas moves to turn around, but she stops him by grabbing his arm again. A bold move, which says enough about the degree of her urgency.

”He was drinking earlier and he didn't stop,” she continues. ”When I got back to the room, he was saying all these crazy things about Max this, Cilas that, and he kept talking about that stupid, stupid poker game. I've never seen him like this.”

I look down in contemplation and aim for a collective breath. It's then I notice dark liquid, which without light I can only a.s.sume is blood, dripping from Dee Dee's inner thigh. Her tan shorts are sticking to her leg because of it.

Acting quickly, I grab her from Cilas' hold and pull her back to me, holding her so she can't get away.

”You're hurt,” I whisper.

She doesn't answer my observation, just continues to look up to Cilas, who now towers over us both. ”Help her,” she utters.

”Where are they?”

”Bas.e.m.e.nt.” Once she gets that out, her body finally relaxes and she nearly falls to the ground. ”She's bad, Max. H-he...” she stutters and manages to swallow another sob. ”He made me watch him...”

Shaking her in my arms lightly, knowing we don't have time to waste, I ask, ”What?”

”He made me watch. He... told me if I left, I'd get the whip next.”

Whip.

”I tried to leave, but he...”

”Enough,” I clip.