Page 60 of Forced Proximity
I also took the time to send out an emergency text to my friends telling them I wouldn’t be back today because I was sick.
They didn’t need to know that I was sick because of what I was about to do.
Without waiting for a reply, I swiped the tears from my eyes and started to drive again, this time right up to the open gates of the Truth Tellers MC clubhouse.
I didn’t stop until I was right in front of the large, open front door.
I grabbed the cut from my seat where I’d folded it reverently, then bailed out of the truck before I could think of an excuse to leave.
Drawing in a deep breath, I started forward, not looking at a single thing that was surrounding me.
I still knocked at the door, despite the door being wide open.
When no one came, I pressed the doorbell and waited some more.
Footsteps sounded beyond the main room I could see, and I was unsurprised to find Finnian rushing toward me.
Somehow I knew he’d be here.
“Silla, what’s wrong?” he asked, taking in my appearance.
I swallowed hard past the lump in my throat, then extended the cut to him.
He glanced down, but he didn’t move to take it.
In fact, he’d frozen completely in place, staring at the blood-stained leather vest like it was a wild animal ready to attack him.
“What’s going on?”
Webber.
I looked up at him, and my heart physically ached for what I was about to do to them.
“I…” My voice cracked as I pushed past Finnian, who back-pedaled several steps so the blood didn’t get on him and moved to Webber. “I was working. In the emergency room today.”
Webber’s eyes stayed solidly on mine as I continued.
“A biker came in,” I said. “Missing an arm and a leg from an accident. An eighteen-wheeler pulled out in front of him. Him and his wife were on the bike, and they swerved in an attempt not to be decapitated.”
Webber closed his eyes, and I was sure that he was envisioning the scene I’d laid out.
“Unfortunately, he couldn’t swerve much because they were heading toward a creek, and there was a guardrail right beside them. They swerved right into the guard rail and hit it going pretty fast.”
“Fuck,” I heard someone say from behind Webber.
Webber’s eyes opened again, and he said, “He’s dead.”
I nodded. “Knight and his wife are dead.”
That’s when all hell broke loose.
I was still at that clubhouse twelve hours later.
Everyone had converged on the building within minutes of hearing the news, and there was so much food and family here that I was highly uncomfortable.
Yet, I’d never left.
And that had a lot to do with the man who was sitting in a corner, nursing his fourth glass of whiskey.
