Page 35 of Ruthless Obsession
As I move toward the door, blood seeping from my side, a grin pulls at my lips.
“Four warehouses down. Eight to go.”
We planned to hit three tonight. But this? This still feels damn good.
My brothers move through the warehouse like outlaw professionals—because we are. Trained by betrayal, sharpened by war, we take from those who’ve crossed us and burn the rest to the ground.
If the cops get called, I’ve got a dirty cop on speed dial. He’ll make sure the Royal Bastards stay ghosts in this city.
Legos and Flex watch the flames consume the building while Flock and I head for the truck.
Psycho scrambles to his feet as we approach. “Ruthless, how bad is it?”
“I’m good,” I lie to my best friend and brother.
Flock wordlessly guides my bike up the ramp of the box truck.
“Psycho, stay where you are. I need you to find out the ETA for the firemen and police.”
He nods. “Yeah, I’m on it, Ruthless.”
Legos plants a hand on Flex’s back. “Time to go, brother.”
They don’t realize how bad this is. I’m doing my best to walk it off like it’s a scratch. But the fire in my side says different.
Legos rushes to the truck and rips open the passenger door. He pulls a bandana from his pocket and presses it into my wound. “Apply pressure.”
Our eyes meet.
“Don’t hide that shit from us, Ruthless. We’re your family. We’ve got you.”
A weak grin tugs at my lips. “Tonya’s rubbing off on you behind closed doors. You’re getting soft.” The chuckle that follows turns into a cough. “I’ll be fine,” I lie again, holding the bandana against the wound.
My vision starts to blur at the edges—little black specks dancing in and out. Adrenaline’s done its job. Now the real pain kicks in.
“Fuck, Ruthless, you’re a terrible liar,” Legos snaps.
He hoists me up onto the passenger seat.
“Take me home,” I grit to Webbs behind the wheel.
He throws me a look. “You sure? You need the clubhouse infirmary—”
“No.” I wince, shaking my head. “Call Richard. Have him meet us there.”
Richard Cottingham—our underground doc—usually patches us up in the basement infirmary. But I need to get home to check on my captive.
The drive’s a blur. My head lolls more than once. When we pull up, Richard’s car is already parked near the gate. Webbspunches in the code, the iron gates part, and we circle around back to the garage.
Webbs and Flock practically carry me to the door; my arms draped over their shoulders. Each step feels like hell.
The mudroom door bursts open.
“Oh my God, Ruthless,” Tonya gasps.
“Sophie,” I rasp, voice cracking.
“Sophie,” I groan.
