Page 50 of Klutch's Kryptonite

“Yep. You can take off. We’ll get this all cleaned up.”

“Thanks, brother.” I’m about to head for the door when something catches my eye. On the floor is Demi’s envelope she’s been stuffing with bills. I pick it up and count out nearly ten grand.

Fuck me.

My girl’s pop is dead.

After all her hard work, Frankie killed him anyway.

Chapter Fourteen

Demi

Every bump in the road sends a sharp pain radiating through my ribs, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in my chest. I feel like my heart has been sliced open and I’m bleeding out. It hurts. God does it hurt.

Dad is dead.

The words echo in my head, but they don’t feel real.

“We’re here,” Pee Wee announces, his voice uncharacteristically gentle as he pulls through the clubhouse gates.

Kenny shifts beside me in the backseat, her hand still pressed to her temple where Frankie struck her. “Thank God,” she mutters. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Pee Wee parks in front of the door, kills the engine, and jumps out. He rushes around to our side and opens the door “Let me help you, Princess,” he says, reaching for McKenna first with surprising care.

“Get your hands off me!” she snaps, then immediately winces and grabs her head. “Shit.”

Pee Wee holds his hands up in surrender. “Fine. Have it your way.” But when she sways on her feet after climbing out, he steadies her anyway, earning himself another death glare.

I don’t have the energy to fight when he turns to help me. My entire body feels like I’ve gone ten rounds in the ring. “Thanks.” I swipe my tongue across my split lip and wince.

“Welcome, darlin’. Let’s get you both checked out,” he says, and the unexpected gentleness in his voice nearly breaks me.

Hold it together, Demi. You can fall apart later.

Pee Wee holds the clubhouse door open. It’s surprisingly quiet. I don’t know why I was expecting the usual chaos—music blaring, half-naked women, bikers drinking and shouting. I should have known better. I mean, it’s the middle of the day and everyone is at work. Contrary to popular belief most of these guys work a day job just like everyone else.

“This way,” Pee Wee motions for us to head down a hallway I’ve never been down before. He pushes open a door, revealing what looks like a small medical room. There’s a gurney, glass front cabinets full of supplies, and other medical equipment.

“What is this place?”

“Infirmary,” Pee Wee answers, helping me onto one of the gurneys. “Sometimes we have to take care of shit ourselves. Hospitals ask too many questions.”

Kenny climbs onto the other gurney, her face pale. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“Bucket’s right there if you need it,” Pee Wee says, pointing to a metal basin.

The door opens and a man I’ve never seen before walks in. He’s tall with broad shoulders that strain against his black t-shirt. His brown hair is cut short, and he has the most striking jade green eyes I’ve ever seen. There’s something steady abouthim, controlled, like he’s seen the worst the world has to offer and isn’t easily rattled.

“This is Bravo,” Pee Wee introduces. “Club’s medic.”

Bravo nods, immediately moving to Kenny. “What happened?” he asks, his voice deep and calm.

“Got pistol-whipped,” she mumbles.

He tips her head to the side and probes the wound with his fingers.

“Ow!” She winces.

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