Page 119 of Rest In Pieces

“You were grazed by a bullet. You were lucky.”

“Really? I knew it was close, but not that close. Motherfucker,” she curses, making Hannibal grin.

“It could have been worse. Had a prospect drive out and take some pictures of the scene, and the fucker you shot in the leg was bleeding like a sieve.”

“Good. I hope he crashed his truck and is stuck in a ditch somewhere while his leg slowly rots off.”

“Savage. I love it,” I say with a grin, and she smirks. I watch her face as she talks to Hannibal to make sure she’s telling the truth. My girl’s strong, but yesterday was a complete shitshow that would shake anyone.

“We need a shower,” I hear her say. “Do we have time before church?” Amity asks Hannibal.

“Plenty of time. Let’s see how steady this asshole is on his feet first,” Hannibal says, helping me sit up.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and slowly get to my feet. Once the room stops spinning, I let go of the bed.

Amity walks around and stands in front of me. “You good? I don’t want you acting all tough and then face-plant on me later. I might be strong, but I’m not carrying you if you collapse.”

“I’m fine, I promise. And if that changes, I’ll let you know,” I tell her, hearing the worry in her voice.

She’s worried I’ll hurt myself worse. If she wasn’t here, I probably would’ve been reckless and ignored everyone, but the last thing she needs is me collapsing on her.

“Alright, you’ve got an hour. I’ll bring the painkillers to church. One hour, G,” Hannibal says, giving me a pointed look, then leaves before either of us can say anything.

Amity looks up at me and smiles. It’s a little brittle and unsure, but I’ll take it. After everything, she could’ve left. Hell, because of my association with the club, she was nearly killed. And yet here she is, giving me even more. I don’t deserve her.

But I’ll make sure her staying is a decision she never regrets.

30

AMITY

There was nothing sexy about our shower. It was just about washing away yesterday’s mess and checking in with each other, tactile proof that we both survived. I felt lost without my hands on him, and judging by the look of regret he gave me when he left me at the table with Legs and Lil, I’m pretty sure he felt the same way.

“You sure you’re okay?” Legs asks as she places a cup of coffee down in front of me.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I wasn’t even really hurt. Not like G.”

“You were shot at,” Legs hisses. “Don’t downplay that. If you bottle it up, it will eat you alive.”

“I’ve been hurt far worse, but I get it. And I promise that if I get all in my head, I’ll talk to someone.”

“We all think we’re okay until we’re not,” Lil says softly. I don’t really know Lil. I’ve seen her around, and she always gives me a shy smile, but I haven’t talked to her like I have Legs.

“Then something will set you off, and you won’t even know why, and—” She blows out a frustrated breath before taking a sip of her coffee. I notice the faint tremor of her hand, but I don’t say anything.

Legs reaches over and squeezes her free hand, offering her support without saying a word.

“I’ll talk to someone. I promise. I won’t try to deal with it alone.”

She nods. “Good, that’s good.”

I look between her and Legs and decide to change the subject. “You know, you guys are ruining every stereotype I had about club girls.”

Legs grins, and Lil bursts out laughing.

“Trust me, it never used to be this way. Once upon a time, we lived up to every stereotype. We clashed with old ladies and everything. There was definitely a divide between us and them. But something happened, and we realized we aren’t so different.”

“I think it made the club stronger,” Legs adds.

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