Present Day
Stretch halted his bike in front of Noah’s house, wanting to blow it up on GP, as the new man in Fee’s life. When John Boy returned to the clubhouse, without Fee, Outlaw had Stretch pick up her location via her cell phone.
Angry, jealous, frustrated, and determined to interrupt their fucking, Stretch left, overcome with dangerous emotion and wanting to hack off Noah’s cock.
Now, he limped to the door of the house he’d identified as belonging to Noah. Heaving in a breath, Stretch knocked, wrestling his rising temper back. He was so angry with Fee, even after six weeks, but he couldn’t imagine her with another…Fuck her!
Why the fuck had he come again? Fee was where she wanted to be. She’d destroyed their relationship, for her own selfish reasons. So, yeah, fuck her. Instead of acting with this confrontational hotheadedness, he’d get on his bike and return to the club.
The door cracked open. As expected, Noah faced him, breathing heavily. Definitely interrupting some hard fucking. With Fee. She was little better than Cash. It was so easy for them to move on, when, to Stretch, the thought of anyone else turned him off and hurt, almost like a physical pain.
Stretch shoved his hands in his pockets, to keep from punching the fuck out of Noah, his emotions all over the place. One thing was certain. His jealousy did no one any good. “Sorry for the interruption.”
Noah straightened, sudden tension settling into his features, although he didn't seem surprised at Stretch’s appearance or question how his address had been obtained. “I can’t talk right now. I’m busy.”
Stretch bet he was, but he wouldn’t leave without glimpsing the girl who meant so much to him, despite how he pretended otherwise. “I need a word with Fee.”
“Fee?”
“Ophelia Donovan. You know? Outlaw’s little sister.”
“I don’t know a bitch by that name. Sorry, brother.” Noah slammed the door shut.
An inkling of unease traveling along Stretch’s spine, he pounded on the door again. One minute slugged by. Two. Noah refused to answer.
Bracing as best he could on his damaged leg, he stomped until the wood buckled and the door flew open. He almost toppled over and he cursed, taking a moment to regain his balance.
Despite the rush of cold, a strong metallic scent dirtied the air. Blood. Stretch had smelled enough of it, almost drowned in his own, not to recognize it. Panic hit him, and he drew in deep breaths. He hadn’t seen Hanson as he lay dying because Stretch had been too busy fighting for his own life. But he remembered the scent of blood, sweat, and fear.
Suddenly, then didn’t matter. Before or after. Only now. Fee.
His vision adjusted to the dimness. She lay a short distance away in a pool of blood, red splotches patch working her skin. “Fee!” he cried, his voice ragged. She was still and unmoving.
Dead.
Noise from another area drowned out his agonized cry.
Lumbering forward, Stretch pulled his gun. Once again decrying his handicap, Stretch kept his weapon raised, slipping in Fee’s blood as he passed her. He forced himself to keep going. Noah could come out blazing.
Reaching the bedroom, Stretch found the open window. The sound of a motorcycle speeding away filled the silence.
Fuck! Noah had gotten away. Stretch wanted vengeance now. But he’d worry about that shortly-to-be-dead-man later. Right now, he needed to see to Fee.
Kneeling next to her, he forced himself to touch her neck. A huge cut dripped blood and a very weak pulse beat beneath his fingertips. Not dead yet, but so near death she might not survive the next second.
He pulled her into his arms and stroked her hair, not caring about the blood. “Fee,” he whispered, rubbing his cheek against hers. “My Fee. Don’t leave me.”
Laying her down again and swiping at his tears, Stretch stood. With all the shit that had befallen the club the past few months, Outlaw had decided all injuries would be handled on club property. Last year’s shooting had brought a lot of press to the club and they needed shit to die down.
Stretch had no time to call Outlaw for instructions. If there was even the smallest chance for Fee to live, Stretch had to call ‘911’.
Not only wouldn’t she be taken to a club-supported hospital, the badges who would show up wouldn’t be on their payroll.
Stretch supposed Outlaw would add this extra infraction to whatever revenge he’d plan.
Flashing lights lit up the early evening, the irregular pattern bouncing through Cash’s open door and lighting up his walls. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but since his name was McCall, he knew fuck-all.
Heading to his kitchen, he opened his refrigerator and frowned at the week old Chinese food. Since he’d had a meeting in Portland, he’d decided to stay at his house tonight, a rare occurrence nowadays with all the memories his four walls contained. He’d considered giving up the place completely. It didn’t hold the allure it had, when he’d been with Stretch and Fee. On the other hand, if he rented the place out, he’d have another income stream, since he’d just emptied his savings to invest in Josh’s start-up company.