Page 14 of Corrupting Cinderella (Lost Kings MC 2)

  “Knock it off, Zero,” Rock warns.

  “What? Just making sure—”

  “You’re wrong.” Trinity cuts him off.

  “Yeah, that why you been up in his bed every night for the last two weeks?” In a lower voice that I don’t think I was meant to hear, he says to her, “I don’t remember you ever spending an entire night with me.”

  She grits her teeth. “Shut. Up.”

  “Don’t break his concentration, Z,” I snap at him, surprising myself.

  Z gives me an amused look—thankfully he doesn’t seem to be offended. Although he might be trying to rile Wrath, he’s also upsetting Trinity. And let’s face it, I may not like Wrath all that much, but I don’t want to see him get hurt either.

  Some sort of bell sounds, and we turn our attention to the ring. The fighters knock knuckles, and then it’s game on. I’m not sure what I expected, but it’s both stunning and ghastly.

  Irish rushes around the ring with an abundance of energy. He shuffles from foot to foot, darts back and forth. After a few exploratory jabs where he catches nothing but air, he backs up. Wrath is surprisingly quick. I also get the impression he’s toying with his opponent.

  When Wrath finally attacks, I get a visual representation on the true meaning of violence.

  The crowd explodes. People rush to get to the ring. We can’t see, so Trinity and I hop up on the bleachers.

  Wrath is beautifully brutal. He lands punch after punch until blood pours from the kid’s nose. Irish ducks and tries for Wrath’s legs, to take him to the ground. What a mistake, though, because Wrath rams his knee in his opponent’s face and lights into him with his fists again. Last, he crashes his elbow into the center of Irish’s nose, and the kid crumples to the ground. There’s blood everywhere, and without thinking, a scream tears out of me.

  Rock wraps his hands around my waist and plucks me off the bench. “Stop screaming,” he shouts.

  “Is he dead? Did Wrath kill him?”

  “Probably not,” Rock answers in a much more normal tone of voice.

  “Probably?”

  “They know what they’re signing up for, Hope.”

  The fight is called in Wrath’s favor, and almost instantly, we’re pushed around with the movement of the crowd. People are yelling and rushing toward the window to get their cash.

  Teller collects our slips and takes off, Murphy right behind him.

  “Prez, we gotta get out of here,” Z says in a low, urgent tone. Trinity and I are mashed up between Rock and Z as they keep us protected from the crowd. I peek around Rock and sigh in relief when I see Wrath coming at us. His bare chest is covered in sweat and blood, but he’s muscling into a T-shirt as he approaches. His jeans are unbuttoned, shiny gym shorts sticking out, boots unlaced, and a backpack slung over one shoulder.

  Trinity wriggles out from under Z and runs right into Wrath. “Whoa, I’m fine.” He wraps her up in a hug and kisses the top of her head. Even with all the chaos around, the three of us stop to stare.

  “Wrath, we gotta go,” Z warns.

  He looks up and nods once, then slips a skull cap over his bright blond hair. As a unit, we all move toward one of the side exits. The wash of cold air is a relief. Teller and Murphy are standing tight against the outside wall, waiting for us. Wrath has hold of Trinity’s hand now, and she seems to have calmed down.

  “I’m in a spot around the back,” he informs Rock.

  “Fuck. We’re in the lot over.”

  “We’ll meet up at the gas station at the bottom of the hill.”

  Everyone agrees, and we part ways.

  “What’s wrong, Rock?” I ask as I try to keep up the fast pace the guys have set.

  He slides his arm around my shoulders and tugs me close. “Just don’t want to be here when things get rowdy. Some people lost a lot of money.”

  Once we slip through the fence, the five of us break into a sprint across the parking lot. All around us, the sounds of cars and bikes are coming to life. Rock tosses a plain black hoodie at me. After I slip it on, he thrusts my helmet into my hands. We take off at a normal pace with Z in front of us.

  Normally, I would rest my head against Rock and close my eyes. But tonight is not a joyride. I feel like I should be alert and aware of what’s going on around us, if it’s at all possible.

  We don’t stop at the gas station. Wrath sees us coming and joins us. He takes over the front position, and Z falls behind.

  Once we’re clear of the Ironworks city limits, I feel better. We’re taking the long way back to Empire, and it’s all winding, deserted county roads. I start to relax and even slide my hands under Rock’s shirt to rest them against his rippling muscles.

  Suddenly, Teller appears on our left, wearing a severe expression as he tries to signal to Rock. I turn slightly to see what’s got him spooked. A dark SUV is barreling down on us. Z is weaving back and forth to keep the truck away. Murphy is coming up on our other side.

  “Rock!”

  “Hang on.”

  He motions Teller and Murphy to get up alongside Wrath.

  We’re traveling a lot faster than Rock’s ever taken me, and as I look at the drop off along the side of the road, I’m terrified we’re not going to make it out of this.

  The SUV is so close I hear the engine straining. I’m frightened something has happened to Z.

  Rock’s trying to slow the bike down, but the SUV keeps pace and keeps pushing us to the right. The cliff isn’t as steep here, but it’s still a fucking hill not meant for two-wheel travel. Which one is more likely to kill us? Being squished by two tons of steel or flying down the slope into a tree?

  Neither option appeals to me.

  “Hold on as long as you can!” Rock shouts. I guess that means he’s considered our options and chosen plan B. As the wheels edge off the pavement, the bike jerks, and I struggle to stay upright. We’re bouncing down the hillside a lot faster than feels comfortable. Near the bottom, we collide with a downed tree, throwing us both clear of the bike.

  I land hard in the grass. My palms sting from bits of gravel that have migrated down the hill over the years. My right side is in agony. Slowly I inventory my body parts. Legs, feet, arms, hands. Check, check, check. Ouch. My hands are a bloody mess.

  And whoever pushed us off the road isn’t done with us.

  Bullets whiz wildly down the hill. I can just barely see the lights from the SUV stopped on the side of the road. I don’t see Rock anywhere. I start crawling on the ground until I reach the bike. On the other side of the log, I spot Rock.

  “Hope?”

  I hurry to his side in a crouch.

  “Are you okay?” My hands fly over his body, checking for injuries.

  “Thank God. Are you hurt, baby?” he rasps.

  After the spectacular fall we took, I don’t think the few scrapes on my palms count as being injured. “No.”

  Trinity comes out of nowhere. Her face is streaked with mud, and tears are running down her face. Rock is instantly alert.

  “Where is he, Trinny?”

  “This way.” She points behind her. “He’s not moving, Rock. It’s bad.”

  Someone above is returning fire, and the bullets have stopped flying our way. For now. Trinity and I rush to follow Rock. He turns and hands me a gun.

  A fucking gun.

  What the hell am I supposed to do with that?

  I slip it into the pocket of my hoodie and pray I don’t accidentally shoot my boob off.

  When we reach Wrath, he’s groaning, and Trinity bursts into tears again.

  “Stay quiet, man,” Rock says as he puts a hand on Wrath’s chest.

  Rock has another gun in his hand. Where the fuck has he been hiding this arsenal?

  “Hope, what did you do with the gun?”

  “It’s in my pocket.”

  He looks about ready to throttle me, and I feel completely useless. “Give it to Trinity.”

  I hand it over, and she checks it like a badass./>   “Stay with him,” Rock says to both of us.

  Trinity looks down at Wrath once more, and then she’s on alert. Wrath starts moaning, and I grab his hand.

  “Shh, honey, it’s okay,” I soothe.

  “My leg,” he groans.

  I run the back of my hand over his cheek and forehead, and it comes away soaked with blood. More gunshots. Trinity is completely still and aware.

  “Trin?”

  “Right here, Wyatt,” she answers without looking down at us.

  He struggles to get up, but I stop him with a hand against his chest. “Wrath, don’t. You could have something broken. Plus, there’s still guys shooting at us.”

  He croaks out, “Prez?”

  “He’s okay.”

  Thankfully, Wrath seems to be coming around. He realizes I’m holding his hand, and he squeezes it tight. “It’s going to be okay, Hope.” The guy with the broken leg reassures me.

  Good grief.

  He opens his eyes and looks up at me with concern. “This is why I been tryin’ to push you away, Cinderella. So you don’t get hurt.”

  Tears cloud my vision. “Wrath,” I sigh. His eyes drift shut.

  I check him over for other injuries, and he sucks in a painful breath when I get to his left leg.

  “I think it’s broken.”

  He grunts and opens his eyes again. “No shit.”

  I don’t have a lot of light to inspect the damage to his head, but I try to locate the cut. It’s not as bad as I feared, but still bleeding a lot.

  “Ow, fuck. Watch it,” he growls.

  He grabs my hand again, holding me still.

  “I don’t know what to do,” I cry miserably.

  “Just keep holding my hand. My leg really fucking hurts.”

  “Okay.”

  It’s quiet up above now. A shiver works over Wrath, and I whip off my sweatshirt, covering as much of his torso as I can with it. I rub my hand over his chest, trying to keep him warm. Tires squeal, and it sounds like the SUV is getting the hell out of there. A few seconds later, two bikes roar to life and take off as well.

  The snapping of twigs and crunch of gravel announces someone is coming.

  “Trin, it’s me and Z—don’t shoot,” Rock’s voice comes out of the darkness.

  She makes a clicking noise with the gun and shoves it in the back of her pants. I’m still holding Wrath’s hand and running my other hand over him, but I think he passed out.

  “You girls okay?” Z asks.

  I’m watching to make sure Wrath is still breathing, so I only nod. Rock kneels down beside me and puts his hand on my arm.

  “Honey, you’re shivering.”

  “Afraid he’s going into shock. He needs an ambulance bad.” My voice comes out all quivery.

  “A driver stopped. He’s calling 911. That’s what finally chased those fuckers off.”

  “His leg, Rock. And his head.”

  He takes out his cell phone. The shattered screen still provides enough light for Rock to shine it over Wrath’s head to check the cut.

  “Get that outta my face,” Wrath grumbles.

  “Well, his personality is fine,” Z jokes.

  “Fuck off.”

  Finally, sirens pierce the air.

  Z takes off to meet the ambulance and explain where we’re located.

  Trinity kneels next to Wrath and takes his other hand.

  He finally opens an eye. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” she answers softly.

  His eyes close, and a shiver works over him. “I’m really fucking cold, guys,” he grits out.

  I shoot a worried glance at Rock, and he shrugs off his jacket, laying it over Wrath’s chest. Trinity does the same.

  “That better?”

  He doesn’t answer this time, and tears start dropping down Trinity’s cheeks.

  A helicopter had to be called in to lift Wrath out and take him to the nearest hospital. The rest of us got to ride in either an ambulance or cop car.

  You can guess which one I ended up in.

  No matter how many times I explained to the two useless pigs that we’d been run off the road, they kept insisting something else happened. I had no idea what actually happened or who those fuckers were.

  Was I going to tell the cops it probably had to do with the underground fight we just left?

  Fuck, no.

  But I gave them the rest of the information, so at least it seemed like I wanted to be cooperative. Finally they let me go find Hope.

  My girl did amazing.

  Atomic rage fills me at the thought that she could have died tonight because of me. She never would have been in this situation otherwise. People didn’t try to run her off the road because she caused them to lose thousands of dollars on an illegal fight. No, that shit is part of my life, and it could have cost her hers. I’m sick with disgust.

  But she kept her cool. She didn’t panic when we went over the cliff. She listened to me. She did her best to keep Wrath safe and comfortable until we could get him help. I didn’t think I could love her more until I saw her kneeling on the ground beside my brother, holding his hand, talking to him softly, her sweatshirt looking like a baby blanket on his big chest.

  The hospital doesn’t want to let me see her because she’s not my wife. I get loud, and next thing I know, she’s flying out of one of the emergency room cubicles and into my arms.

  “Baby, you okay?”

  She winces when I hug her and her hands are bandaged, but other than that, she seems sound. I push all the awful things that could have happened out of my mind.

  Trinity is fine. They checked her over. Barely a scratch. Doesn’t surprise me. Girl is very resilient.

  Wrath is still out cold.

  It’s hours before they will let us see him, but no one is leaving. The rest of the brothers filter in as the news spreads.

  Teller, Murphy, and Dex join me in a huddle.

  “What do we know?” Muphy asks.

  Teller looks into the hallway. “Z’s checking out some leads.”

  “Can’t be fucking Vipers. They would’ve straight-up shot us, not pulled that cowardly bullshit,” I mutter.

  “Better not be them. We had the all clear to be there,” Murphy reminds me.

  Not like it would matter to those honor-less fucks. The stupidity of my decision to bring Hope into this is close to crushing me.

  Z bumps my shoulder and pulls me into the hallway.

  With a shifty look up and down the open space and a low voice, he explains. “Looks like it was two assholes from Irish’s crew.”

  “Who the fuck is that?”

  “The kid Wrath fought? He fucked him up pretty good, so they were looking for payback.”

  “They could’ve fucking killed us! Over a goddamn fight their guy signed up for?”

  “Fuckin’ pussies.”

  It would have made more sense if it had been one of the other crews who lost money on Wrath. Fuck, it would have made sense if it had been some Vipers since we were in their territory—all clear or not—but this is fucking stupid and senseless.

  “Find out who they’re connected to. I want to know how much blowback there will be when we handle them.”

  “Prez—”

  “I’m fucking serious, Z. They want to fuck with us? Fine, but Hope and Trinity could have been hurt or killed.” I shake my head, still pissed with myself for bringing the girls. “No excuses for bringing the women into our shit.”

  “I know.”

  “Payback is a bitch.”

  “Fuck, yeah.”

  I give Z a manly slap on the shoulder. “I need you, man. Shit’s going bad all around us, and our enforcer is gonna be down for eight or more weeks. You gotta step up.”

  Z sends me a “fuck you” look, and I feel a little bad for how that came out. “You know what I mean. Membership is tight as it is. With Wrath down, it’s gonna be even harder.”

  We’re pulled out of our conversation when Trinity wander

s into the hall, looking more lost than I’ve seen her in years.

  I hold out my hand and she drifts over, letting me hug her to my side. “Babe, I want you to go home and get some rest.”

  “I need to see him first.”

  Z and I share a glance. “I know. As soon as he’s awake, I’ll have one of the guys bring you back. Promise.”

  After some cajoling, Z takes her home, and I go into the waiting room to find Hope standing and staring out the window. I nudge her with my shoulder, and the corners of her mouth lift in a weary smile. She settles down in the chair beside me and takes my hand.

  “You all right, baby doll?”

  “Yeah.”

  After what seems like many hours, a doctor finally comes in. “Wyatt Ramsey’s family?”

  I stand up. “I’m his brother.” I’m not getting blocked by some bullshit hospital rules again. He’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a brother anyway, so it’s not a lie as far as I’m concerned.

  The doctor looks at each of us before pulling me into the hallway. I tug Hope along. Doc looks at her but doesn’t say anything.

  “Mr. Ramsey has a concussion. The cut on his temple wasn’t too severe. We stitched it, but we need to keep him a night or two for observation to make sure there’s nothing more serious like a cerebral hemorrhage. Now, his leg is a different story. He suffered a tibial shaft fracture. It’s a stable fracture, which is good. With this type of fracture, the bone is barely out of place. The broken ends of the bones basically line up correctly and are aligned.”

  He rubs his fists together in an imitation of what he’s trying to explain. Hope looks ready to barf.

  “He’s got a cast. It should be completely healed in four to six months if he listens to instructions,” the doc continues.