Page 45 of Piper's Pyro

What an asshole.

“Explain,” Cobra spat in my face. His gray depths turned black and he rolled his hands into fists.

Shit, I was about to get beaten to a pulp by another one of Piper’s brothers. But she was worth it.

“Brother, we don’t have time for this crap.” Another guy put his hand on Cobra’s shoulder. I hadn’t met him before but was grateful for his interference. His jaw twitched as he narrowed his gaze at me. “We’ll deal with him later.” The way he saidlatermade my blood turn cold.

“Fine. But keep him out of my face.” Cobra stormed off.

I sensed it would be an uphill battle if I wanted to be with Piper. They’d probably beat me to an inch of my life. If I survived and still wanted their sister, they might make me prove my worthiness, especially after knowing I was an addict. Hell, what if they expect me to become a biker? I’d never even been on a motorcycle before.

Why am I worried about any of this? She had got the fuck out early in the morning, but at least she had left me a nice note which was a first. My other one-night stands hadn’t done as much.

But was Piper really a one-night stand after two nights in a row? Wasn’t she something more meaningful?

Yes, far more significant than any other woman before her. Which was why I needed to do something to help rescue her.

I slid into a vacant opening in the circle Hustler and the others were in and listened to what they were saying.

“If he sees one of us, he might lose his shit and off the three of them. You know how these nutjobs overreact,” Spectre said. “What do you think, Bone?”

“Spectre’s right. We can’t risk being seen, but we can’t stay put and do nothing either.”

“Storm has Grizzly hacking into the hospital’s computer system and security cameras to see what he can find out. At least we know which floor they’re on and what room.” Cobra eyed me.

Relief washed over me when he didn’t order me to leave.

“I’m worried about Stitch.” Hustler scratched the back of his head. “Mercy heard the gun go off. What if he hit him? What if he’s dead?”

Dead. Dead. Dead. The single most distressing word in my vocabulary. I swallowed thickly, my throat constricting as dead somersaulted through my head and caused my innards to twist into a painful knot.

Suddenly I noticed the smell of ammonia wafting in the air. The bright fluorescent lights seared my retinas. Voices bleeding through the intercom system made my ears ring.

My chest tightened.

It was stifling and sweat beaded on my forehead.

I needed to get out. Needed to get away from the hospital.

I stepped backward into someone. I turned and saw a young girl with golden blonde hair and brown eyes, the color of cinnamon. She reminded me of Rachel, my younger sister. About the same age as her too… Thirteen.

“Sorry, mister.” The girl smiled and continued toward the bathroom.

All the air left my lungs, and my fucking memories transported me to the horrific day of Rachel’s death…

I ran into the emergency room and searched for my parents. It couldn’t be true. My sister wasn’t dead. Dead, dead, dead tumbled through my brain.

She was only thirteen. I’d seen her an hour ago when I left to go jam with the band.

“Russell?” My father’s voice came from the right side of the room. “Over here.”

My mother sobbed into her hands, rocking in the chair.

“Dad, where is…” I couldn’t say her name in front of my mom.

“Gone, son.” A tear rolled down the side of his face. “The EMTs did all they could, but it was too late.”

I sat before I collapsed on the floor, fending off racking sobs. I failed.

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