Misfit(186)

For weeks, he’d managed to live without them, never thinking he might lose either of them in such an irrevocable manner as death. Now, managing to survive her attack, she was still in danger.

Rage bubbled up, overshadowing Cash’s crippling fear. Because he couldn’t imagine life without them, fear was his worst enemy. Besides, he had to concentrate on the immediate matter at hand—the motherfucker who’d walked into Fee’s room.

He and Outlaw had fanned out in the hallway, to head off the stupid motherfucker at the other side. With the square layout, centered around the nurses’ station and then the bank of elevators, it made sense.

Peeling alarms annoyed Cash. Voices blared over the intercom, calling for security and requesting all patients remain in their rooms.

The Torp reached the hallway for the elevator and Outlaw grabbed him by the throat. The asshole screamed at the top of his lungs, shocking the fuck out of them. Outlaw lost his hold on him, while a team of security rushed them from the opposite direction. The fucker leaped toward the stairwell door.

Outlaw didn’t hesitate, running after him, the glint of his nine flashing. Cash took off after them, their combined footsteps pounding on the concrete stairs.

Outlaw raised his gun.

“Fuck. Don’t, Outlaw,” Cash called.

The appearance of the Torp motherfucker infuriated Outlaw to recklessness. On the flip side, what kind of gall did that motherfucker have walking into Fee’s room? Cash felt like pulling too, except that shit landed you in jail.

He wouldn’t do well in jail. At all.

By the time they bounded down five floors and reached ground level, Outlaw’s piece had disappeared. Cash flew through the door and right into a line of hospital security and Portland PD, some of them wrestling Outlaw and the Torp to the ground while others drew their guns and aimed at Cash.

In the back of a police cruiser, hands cuffed behind his back, Cash cursed under his breath, thinking of Fee and Stretch. He better not leave her side. If these assholes were bold enough to go to her room, then who knew what the fuck they’d do.

They could’ve allowed the Torp to walk away, as if they’d never noticed his colors. But when a motherfucker took off running, it created a chain reaction. Assholes didn’t suddenly sprint away in a hospital unless he had fucked up intentions. He could’ve ran out of fear, but the motherfucker hadn’t been too scared to walk into the room in the first place.





Gun in hand, Stretch spun around, listening to the sound of the alarms and the voices over the loud speaker. He considered going after Outlaw and Cash, then changed his mind. Not only wouldn’t he catch up to them, he’d leave Fee alone and vulnerable. Cash and Outlaw could take care of themselves. Fee, on the other hand, needed him.

“Fuck!” Stretch cursed his injury and the situation. If he’d walked in on Counts stabbing Fee, he couldn’t have bested him in a physical match. He was a fucking cripple. Each time an emergency arose his handicap became apparent.

Have surgery, asshole.

Stretch shoved the thought away. His handicap didn’t matter. For Fee, he’d fight to the death. To protect her. To save her.

A sound behind him grabbed his attention. He realized the alarms had stopped and the intercom had silenced. What did that mean?

Fee grunted. Looking in her direction, he found her struggling to sit up, her face contorted in pain.

“Don’t move another fucking muscle, Fee.”

“C-Cash. C-Christopher. M-my help.”

“You’re injured. You can’t help them. Stay the fuck in that bed. They’ll be back in a minute.”

Hazy brown eyes narrowed. “N-need my h-help.”

Daring her to move, Stretch dropped into the chair near her bed. Before he spoke again, the door opened and a nurse walked in. The woman nodded to Stretch, then went to Fee, ignoring her frustrated look. She really thought she could get her little ass out of bed and help Cash and Outlaw.

What the fuck was she thinking? She was recovering. However, he understood. His liabilities frustrated him…His thoughts slammed to a halt.

In obvious pain, she wasn’t pitying herself or even thinking of herself. She was ready to get up and-and be his warrior princess.

Stretch sat in stunned silence, processing Fee’s attitude and his own.

Everything Cash tried to get him to understand hit Stretch. He could have surgery, continue with physical therapy, or just rejoin the land of the living. Believing he shouldn’t have pain wouldn’t be easy to overcome but he didn’t have to be such a whiny asshole.

Once again, he glanced at Fee as the nurse departed. Fee had already fallen asleep. That fast, she’d gone from struggling to move, to sleeping. However, watching her as the time passed and he waited for Outlaw and Cash to return did more for Stretch than anyone had in a while. In those moments, he realized he had no control over Hanson’s death or Fee’s attack. One had put him at the wrong place at the wrong time, and the other had him at the right place at the right time. The best time. Fucking serendipity. He’d saved Fee. Now, he had to save himself. Get his leg repaired, so he could stand proud. So he’d have the strength to defend himself and Fee, with or without a weapon.