Page 61 of Hell Bent

Squatch helped Hemlock hoist a doped Croon to his feet as some other brothers dragged the bodies of Dawson Franks, Jerome Michel, and one of Franks’s fighters out of the room.

Hemlock wrapped one of Croon’s arms around his shoulder to take some of the brother’s weight as they carried him out. “Yeah, he won’t feel anything for a while. I hit him with a strong dose.”

Off to the side, Truck was wiping guns and replacing them with different ones. When the cops arrived, all they would find was a shoot-out between sex traffickers.

“Everyone’s accounted for,” shouted Hemlock as he helped a wounded Croon out of the building.

Truck waved them on as he made his way back out the room. As he maneuveredaround the bodies, he poured gasoline, and when he got to the doorway, Truck lit the fuel. In seconds, the fire was spreading along the floor. Jogging down the hallway, he tossed more gasoline and lit it. Making his way quickly to the exit, Truck watched as smoke began to fill the building.

It wouldn’t be long before the sprinkler system would go off, ruining all evidence they had ever been there. If there wasn’t any proof they’d been there, no one would come asking questions.

Closing the door, he made quick work of catching up with the others. With the amount of drug manufacturing supplies and ammo stockpiled inside, the cops would haveno problem making the connections to human and weapons trafficking.

“Squatch?”

“Right here, Croon.”

“I have the urge to sing.”

“Croon, I don’t think this is the time for a ballad.” Squatch struggled to keep the brother moving as he heard Hemlock chuckle. “Don’t feed the animal, Hemlock.”

“Sorry.”

They managed to get Croon in the cage that the prospects were driving just as he started belting out “My Way” by Frank Sinatra. As the van drove off, Squatch turned around at the sound of moving feet. He saw Truck jogging over to him and Hemlock. “Did I hear singing?” he asked them.

“Croon,” both men groaned.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Sway lay on the sofa with Lottie sitting at her feet as they watched a rerun ofThe Golden Girls. She was tired of being locked down at the safehouse.

After being taken to the small clinic where Razor and his partner had patched her and Vicious up, she had been brought there to recover.

She was thankful she hadn’t been hidden away alone. Unfortunately, her companion wasn’t Vicious. No, it was Lottie, who complained at least ten times a day to anyone who would listen.

The reason for them being tucked away was that the Royal Bastards were rounding up all of Dawson Franks’s henchmen.

What surprised Sway the most was that Tea and Kiki, along with Zoe and the other girls, came by to care for her. They brought groceries and any other items Sway and Lottie needed. Sway still didn’t trust Zoe farther than she could throw her, but she did like the other girls. There werealways at least two brothers at the safehouse at all times watching over them, which should’ve made her feel better but it made her feel like a prisoner.

Even Teller had stayed with them, helping to protect them. He told her that things would go back to normal soon, but Sway knew that was a lie. They’d never be normal again. The scars on her body would always be a reminder.

She hadn’t spoken to Vicious or seen him since the warehouse. Sway slowly sat up, careful not to pull at her sutures. Her wound was healing, and Razor said two more weeks and the stitches could be removed. Getting up, Sway headed for the kitchen to find something to eat.

“Sway, can I help you?”

“I’m fine, Lottie.”

“Are you?”

“No.” Sway felt deflated. Lost. Most of all, she felt abandoned. She knew it was stupid, but she hadn’t heard a word from Vicious. There were no phones in the safehouse, no way to keep in touch with anyone. It was beginning to weigh on her mental health. Her mind ran on an endless loop, and she imagined Vicious being on life support alone in a sterile room like Tesh had been.

Did Vicious not want her anymore and didn’t know what to do about her? Tears ran down her face and off her chin. Sway thought her daily pity party was ridiculous. “Lottie?”

“I’m right here.”

“We’re leaving.”

“It’s about damn time. I’ll get us packed.”

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