Misfit(170)

“You needed there,” Mort said. “We are, too. Slipper was watching Cash like a fucking hawk, so he couldn’t break away and call you. He sent us fucking texts. We had to blaze here for fucking surveillance. Couldn’t have you walking the fuck out and have motherfuckers waiting for your ass.”

Stretch gave a half-smile. “Thanks, brother.”

“We got your back,” Mort assured him, turning and walking out the room so they could head back to the hospital.





Cash couldn’t shake Slipper and his scrutiny. Maybe, it was a good thing. It allowed him to focus on his surroundings and narrow-minded motherfuckers.

“Ghost,” Outlaw called, shocking Cash. For the first time in weeks, his road name was being used.

Cash didn’t know why Outlaw had stopped referring to him as Ghost, and hadn’t bothered to ask. He enjoyed separate identities.

“How’s Fee?” he asked, walking to where Outlaw sat with Johnnie, Digger, Slipper and sons, and Potter.

On the other side of the room, Meggie and Zoann spoke quietly, their devastation hard to miss.

“Is Fee…?” No! She wasn’t dead. Outlaw wouldn’t be sitting so calmly.

Cash reminded himself he couldn’t show any emotion. That, beyond concern as Prez’s brother, he couldn’t demand answers or go ape-shit tearing this motherfucking town apart, searching for Noah. At least, until Outlaw gave the order.

Outlaw scrubbed a hand over his face. He looked, haggard, angry, and helpless. As Fee’s big brother, he’d want to protect her.

Cash identified. He’d wanted the best for Georgie. The times he’d gotten the calls about her various hospital stays, Cash not only felt tired and helpless, but guilty. He’d left Georgie to her own devices. Josh had, too, and they both had the nerve to pass judgment on Abby Mason. The woman had followed her heart. That was more than he could say for any of them.

She’d stuck by Parnell. She’d stuck by Georgie, when none of them had. It hadn’t been anyone’s responsibility to look after his little sister, except their parents. Unfortunately, shit-for-brains made shit-for-parents.

So, yes, Cash knew how Outlaw felt.

Cash looked at his watch, wondering how long it would take for Stretch to arrive. He also hoped Val and Mort hadn’t run into problems.

“How’s Fee?” he asked no one in particular, since Outlaw hadn’t answered.

“In surgery,” Johnnie said, his face devoid of expression, the monster inside of him unleashed. The motherfucker had to take a back seat to Cash. He might not be able to openly show his worry, but he intended to show his rage. All in the name of brotherhood, of course.

“She bad off,” Digger told him, the one ally amongst them in his relationship with Fee. His public service announcement warning Cash away…had that only been several months ago?

Now…now…FUCK!

Cash stood, anger and desperation nauseating him. She couldn’t fucking die. Not his Fee. The time they’d spent in Kansas City—the time that spurred her to demand more—hit him in the center of his chest.

He’d been such a fucking asshole.

Stumbling to the hallway, Cash leaned against the wall and covered his face. He’d told Stretch to school his emotion, always the arrogant motherfucker. Someone should’ve warned him. Worse, he couldn’t seek Stretch’s comfort. He had to deal on his own and pretend the thought of Fee dying didn’t shatter him.

As much as Hanson’s death had ruined Stretch. He’d faulted himself, having no other outlet for his grief. Unless he’d decided to leave the club, he would’ve lost his life if he’d admitted to the reason he was so broken.

“Cash?”

Zoann’s voice made Cash lift his head to find her and Meggie in front of him.

He straightened and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Hey, Sweetness,” he greeted, plastering a smile on his face. “Zoann.”

She rubbed his arm. “My sister’s strong. She’s going to pull through.”

He wanted to come back with a smart-ass comment, something questioning why she’d singled him out. Hadn’t he broken it off to hide their relationship? But Zoann was offering him comfort. As if she knew. Unable to pretend, he nodded.

“Oh, Cash,” Meggie whispered, standing on tiptoe to hug him.

“She can’t die,” he said on a swallow.

“She won’t.”

“No, she won’t,” Zoann said, sharper than Meggie. “If you believe otherwise, I’ll kick your ass here and now.”

He gave a watery laugh, not moving when Meggie thumbed his cheek. His tear horrified him. Then it dawned on him and he sighed. “You told Zoann about us, Meggie.”