Henley has been different since we got back from our drive. My plan to get both our heads around this shit for a while backfired. Now she seems more occupied with her thoughts than before we left. My girl is quiet. Distant. Something you never see from Henley, and it doesn’t take long for me to realize I don’t fucking like it.

I’d rather she went balls to the wall crazy instead of this shit.

As much as I want to lock her in my room and figure out what is going on in that beautiful head of hers, there isn’t time for that. The moment we walked into the clubhouse, the table was waiting. A plan proposed, and a vote that was unanimous. A vote that was little more than a formality given the circumstances. While Rachelle works every angle she can to be ready for Torch’s bail hearing, Huck, Stone, Doc, and I head out in the van to handle some unfinished business.

Parking at the edge of the woods behind Hammon’s three story home, the four of us climb out to case the place before we make our move. Minus the sound of a yapping dog, it is quiet. The gates have been shut for the night, the only light on is coming from his office.

“Sweet girl, Henley,” Huck says, tucking his flask into his shirt pocket.

“Yeah.”

“She makes you happy,” he continues. “Less wired.”

“Sure that ain’t the sex?” Doc laughs, clapping me on the back.

“Probably part of it,” he chuckles. “The rest is all her.”

“How many inside?” Doc asks, focusing on the house again.

“Jinks said Hammon doesn’t employ live-in staff for the property,” Stone replies, his eyes scanning the yard. “His piece of ass left twenty minutes ago.”

“Just Hammon in there,” I mutter, my fists balling tightly at my sides. “And his bodyguard.”

Pulling his gun, Stone turns to Doc, his eyes turning cold. “Now.”

Pulling out his phone, Doc makes the call to Jinks. “Do it.”

Huck freezes. “You hear that?” Turning his back to us, he studies the road.

“Hear what, old man?” I ask, shaking my head. “Whiskey singin’ you love songs?”

“Gravel crunchin’,” he says, pulling his gun from his cut.

Coming up behind him, I scan the road. I don’t hear the gravel crunching Huck did, but I don’t miss the bone chilling sound of whistling. “Next time you’ll think twice about where you go startin’ fires, Morrison.”

“What the fuck?” Huck blurts, glancing at me. My blood runs cold.

Headlights flash, then gunfire. “Fuck!” Huck shouts, shoving me into the tree in front of us before going to the ground. “Get down!”

Yanking the gun from my waistband, I use the tree for cover and return fire. “Shoot the bastard!” a man yells, as another round of shots is fired at us. Two hit the tree, just inches from me. “Eye for an eye, motherfucker!” the same voice shouts, sounding farther away.

“Go! Go! Go!”

The car spins, gravel spraying out from the tires as they take off toward the main road. “Doc, you whole?” Stone shouts from behind me.

“Yeah,” Doc bites out, starting toward me. “You good, Colt? Huckleberry?”

Stepping back, I shove my gun back into my waistband. “I’m good.” Stepping toward Doc, I look down and find Huck sitting on the ground, his back pressed to the tree. “Oh shit.” Blood oozes through his shirt and upper right thigh of his jeans. “Huck’s hit!”

“Hit my ass,” Huck wheezes, clutching his chest. “Bastard shot me.”

“Flood lights at Hammon’s kicked on,” Stone says, running up to us. He freezes, his expression changing when he sees Huck. “Let’s get him in the van. Doc, call Shy. Tell her to have Henley ready, we’re gonna need her.”

Lifting Huck from the ground, we manage to get him to the road and into the back of the van. “I’ll drive,” Stone says, flinging open the driver door. “Help Doc with Huck.”

“Medical kit,” Doc barks, yanking off his leather gloves and throwing them to the side with his phone. “Under the passenger seat.”

Yanking the duffel out from under the seat, I toss it to him. Unzipping it, he dumps the contents onto the floor, digging through the gauze and bandages for a pair of scissors. Doc works quickly, his hands steady as he slices through the cotton and denim to get a better look at Huck’s wounds. “Get your belt off,” he barks, tearing open a package of gauze with his teeth. “Wrap it around his thigh above the wound. Pull it tight.”

Yanking my belt off, I do exactly as he says. Wrapping it around Huck’s thigh, I pull it as tight as I can. Using my knife, I slice a hole in the leather, hooking the clip into place. Grabbing a pack of gauze, I rip it open and press it to the wound.

“How bad is it?” Stone asks, turning onto the main road.

“Took a bullet to the thigh and one to the chest,” he shouts up to Stone.

“Took two to the chest,” Huck coughs, blood spilling down the side of his face. “Other one dented my goddamn flask.”

“Christ,” Doc barks, blood oozing through his fingers and down Huck’s chest. “Bullet must’ve tore a fuckin’ artery. How far out from the clubhouse?”

“Almost there,” Stone says, his calm fading.

Reaching up, Huck covers Doc’s hand. His head falling to the side, he looks my way. “May not’ve given you my name.” A slow smile spreads across his face, his tired eyes losing focus. “But I tried my damnedest to do right by you and your momma, son. Jinks is in your blood.”

“What?” I blurt, my eyes nearly bugging out of my head.

“Proud of you, son,” he whispers, the breath deflating from his body. His chest stops moving, his hand falling away from Doc’s.

“Huck?” I shake him, he doesn’t move. “Shit. Huck!” Horror grips me by the throat, squeezing so hard I can’t breathe. Fuck. “Do somethin’!” I shout at Doc.

The van races through the compounds gates, screeching to a stop outside the clubhouse. The back doors of the van fly open, people shouting, stuff being tossed back and forth as we try to unload Huck and get him inside. “He’s not breathing,” Doc bites out, dropping everything in his hands as he leaps out of the van. The moment we get him on the sheet of plastic covering the pool table, Doc leaps up onto it, starting chest compressions. “Don’t’ you dare fuckin’ die on me, asshole!” he shouts, his voice cracking. “You hear me?”

“Oh my God!” Henley’s voice cuts through the noise. Medical bag in her hand, she comes barreling into the room with Shy and Roanne hot on her heels. The color drains from all three of their faces when they see Huck lying lifeless on the table. Tossing the bag to Shy, Henley rolls up her sleeves, her wide eyes meeting mine. “What happened?”

“Gunshot,” I tell her, unable to say anything else. “He’s not breathing.”

She nods. With shaking hands, she climbs up, straddles Huck’s uninjured thigh, and takes over for Doc. “Come on, Huck,” she chokes out, tears spilling onto her cheeks. “I need you to breathe for me.” She looks to Doc, who has yet to move, her stare hardening. “Either call an ambulance or get your shit together and fuckin’ help me!” she shouts, frantically. “I can’t do this by myself.”

Henley

Every inch of my body aches. Not only from exertion, but also from the crushing mental anguish I feel while staring down at the old man who managed to light up any corner of the clubhouse he chose to occupy. Whether it was with a dirty joke, a smile, or a handful of illegal fireworks, no moment I spent around Huckleberry was boring.

But, now he’s gone.

I couldn’t save him.

I failed.

Tears blur my vision, but I refuse to allow them to fall. If even one slips free, I won’t be able to stop the dam from breaking. In my life, I’ve learned that death is a heartbreaking reminder of how often we take the people around us for granted. While it allows a sort of peace to the suffering, a reprieve where they let go and move on to whatever lies beyond for us, it leaves the living with unsurmountable pain.

Say whatever you want, but I can’t see how anyone can say they are used to people around them dying. It sure as fuck doesn’t get any easier for me.

The unexpected blow of losing Huck hangs heavy like a dark cloud over the clubhouse. From what Shy has told me, Huckleberry was one of the founding members of the M.C., an integral player in making the club how it is today. He and Doc successfully built and ran one of the club’s largest business ventures, supplying moonshine throughout three states. A recipe Huck worked tirelessly to perfect.

And while I feel the grief and sadness coming off everyone around me, the hardest part to swallow is that Nita has no idea what has happened. Shortly before the call came in, she had left with Jace to feed her horses.

The only thing worse would be walking in to find him this way alone.

Like I was when I found my brother.

Staring down at my blood-stained hands, I focus on cleaning the blood away from Huck’s chest and arms, while Stone clears the room. But I can’t force myself to walk away. I can’t leave him. Not like this.

Colt’s warmth envelopes me from behind. It should be comforting to know that in the middle of losing someone he cared about, he is worried about me. Colt wants to be my rock. I have no doubt that the peace in his strength and calm control could soothe my battle-weary soul like a balm that I need more than I could put into words. No matter how good that may feel right now, I can’t allow myself to soak it in. The vulnerability I feel in his arms would break me.

That cannot happen.

“Babe,” Colt says, resting a hand on my shoulder. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do,” I nod, rinsing out the sponge in a pan of warm, soapy water Shy brought me. “Nita doesn’t need to see him like this. Her last memory of him shouldn’t be—” I stop myself, not wanting to finish that thought.

“I know,” he breathes, sounding pained. Pressing his nose into my hair, he kisses the top of my head. “But, it won’t make it any easier.”

Emotion clogs my throat, my chest burning painfully. Squeezing my eyes shut, I feel a tear slip down my cheeks. The vulnerability I felt with Colt in his car, only the tip of the iceberg compared to how I feel now. Though I don’t like being exposed this way, I’m unable to close myself off. “What happened, Colt?” Taking a deep breath, I open my eyes and force myself to ask the one thing that has been on my mind since Shy got the frantic call from Doc. “Was this Daniel?” The question physically causes me pain. “Is Huck lying here because of me?”

Raising his head, he gives my shoulders a squeeze before releasing me. “No.” Colt’s voice is calm, cold, empty. Turning me to face him, he tips my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. The look on his face is haunting. Pain fills his features, a hard-rooted rage building just beneath the surface of those beautiful blues, sending a chill up my spine. “Those bullets were meant for me. I should be lyin’ there. Not Huck.”

My chest tightens, heart squeezing so hard that I have to reach behind me and grip onto the pool table to stay upright. “Jesus,” I breathe, the word rushing out of me so fast it makes my head spin. The idea of seeing Colt like this, knowing that it very well could have been him, is the final blow to my wounded heart. The tears I have worked so tirelessly to keep at bay begin falling freely down my face.

The door swings open, slamming hard against the wall. Nearly leaping out of my skin, I look over to see Nita staring our way in disbelief. “God,” she chokes out. Pressing a hand to her chest, her eyes widen, the color draining from her face. It feels like the entire world has stopped, as if the only movement that matters is the footsteps of a heartbroken woman walking toward the man she loves.

“Caleb,” she breathes, touching his cheek. Smiling down at him sadly, she brushes the hair from his forehead. “What do I do now?” Bending, she presses her lips to his softly. “There’ll never be a day I won’t need you.” Wrapping her arms around him, she buries her face in his neck, her entire body shaking as she sobs quietly.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Coming up beside her, Doc squeezes her shoulder. Swallowing hard, he bows his head. “My brother loved you somethin’ fierce.” Covering his hand, she squeezes, her sobs growing louder.

Needing to clean up, and wanting to give Nita her privacy, Colt and I head down to his room. “What happens now?” I ask, stripping off my blood covered clothes.

“Honest answer?” he asks, tossing his cut to the bed. Ripping his shirt over his head, he swipes at the streaks of blood on his arms and chest before throwing the ruined fabric into the trash can.

“Yes,” my answer is immediate.

“Stone made a call,” he begins, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Ashmead’s on her way with the Coroner now. Huck’s death gets ruled natural causes and we pay to have him cremated.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Dumping my clothes into the trashcan with his shirt, I head into the bathroom to start the shower.

“Know what you meant,” Colt says, following me. “I’m givin’ you what you need to know.”

“No.” Turning to face him, I cross my arms over my chest and stare him down, not giving a fuck that I am currently naked and streaked with dried blood. “You’re placating me with minimal information. Hoping that it’ll be enough to shut me up.” I narrow my eyes. “It isn’t.”

“The rest isn’t your problem,” he assures me, though I don’t buy it for a second. “This is me shieldin’ you from that. I don’t want it fuckin’ touchin’ you.”

“You honestly believe it doesn’t touch me?” Huffing out a laugh, I drop my hands to my hips. “Now who’s wrapped up in their goddamn illusions?”

“I’m very fuckin’ aware of the reality here, Hotness,” he growls coolly. “A man I’ve known nearly my entire goddamn life is dead because of me. How that gets dealt with isn’t your concern. It’s mine,” he snaps, pounding his fist against his chest.

“You’re a stubborn son of a bitch that needs a kick in the ass,” I fire back, my patience and filter completely spent.

“And you’re feelin’ the shit that happened tonight. Feelin’ it deep,” he tosses back at me, reading into me more than I’m okay with. “That doesn’t work for you because you can’t fix it. So you lashin’ out at me is how you deal. ‘Cause anger is better than the hurt.”

“You think you know everything,” I hiss. “Don’t you?”

Grabbing my arms, he pulls me against his body, pinning our arms between us. “Believe me, baby, I get it. More than you know.”

“Stop,” I choke out, my heart in my throat.

“Take it out on me,” he says, releasing my wrists, his hands sliding up my forearms. “The anger. The hurt. Stop bottlin’ it up and hidin’ away parts of you that matter to me.” He leans in, his lips inches from mine. My eyes want to close, to sink into Colt and forget everything going on around us. It could be so easy. “Give me all that, Henley. I won’t use it against you like—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” I bite out through gritted teeth. His obvious turn in the conversation making my blood power boil. “I’ll claw your goddamn eyes out if you so much as say his name.”

His eyes widen. I would be amused by the shocked expression on his face if I wasn’t so pissed off I could spit nails. “Easy, Hotness. No one’s throwin’ punches.”

“No, you’re working with words. Trust me, they hurt more.”

“Babe.” His expression changes, appearing apologetic.

“This isn’t about me,” I snap, yanking my arms free. “Upstairs there’s a woman who just…” My words trail off, emotion clogging my throat at the thought of Nita trying to process the depth of what she lost tonight. “I can’t do this.” Turning my back to Colt, I step into the shower, welcoming the burn as the hot water pours down on me.

“You can’t,” he agrees, blowing out a ragged breath. I can’t see him, but I know he is yanking a hand through his hair. “We can.”

“I’m afraid,” I breathe, feeling his eyes on me through the shower doors. Grabbing the soap, I begin lathering my body, watching the bubbles turn red before sliding down my legs. “You make me feel. That terrifies me, Colt.” My chest deflates, the ache there intensifying at my admission. Rinsing the soap from my body, I press my forehead to the tile and close my eyes, letting the spray pound against my back. “You told me the bullets that killed Huck were meant for you.”

“Yeah,” he grunts, sounding conflicted. Pained. Guilty.

“Yeah,” I repeat, knowing the words that come next are going to slice me open in a way I can’t come back from. “Is this what I have to look forward to? Constantly worrying if you’ll end up in prison with my idiot brother, or in an urn on my fireplace?”

“You don’t think I’m afraid?” I hear Colt kick off his boots, then shuffling before the door opens behind me. I don’t move. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to.

I can’t help huffing out a laugh. “I don’t think you’re scared of anything.”

“You’re wrong,” he says calmly, his large frame pressing into mine, skin on skin. His arms circle my waist, pulling me back against him. Leaning down, his lips brush my ear, causing me to tremble. “What you need to ask yourself is if you could walk away from me right now without lookin’ back? Could you go back to the life you had before you met me and not regret givin’ up what you feel when we’re together?”

“Stop,” I beg, my voice barely audible.

“Can you say the regret won’t haunt you?” he continues, his hands roaming over my curves. Gripping my hips, he rocks himself into me, his cock sliding against my ass. I bite back a whimper. “That you don’t need me just as much as I need you?”

“Colt, please let me go.”

“I can’t,” he says, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. “Give me that truth, Henley. Right now, you’re all that’s keepin’ me together.”

“I wish I could tell you all that shit,” I admit, covering his arms with my hands. “I didn’t plan to get swept up in you.” I huff out a little laugh. “Not that you gave me any choice.” His grip tightens on me, but he doesn’t speak. Taking a deep breath, I blow it out and continue. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget the way my stomach flips when your eyes find mine from across the room. I crave the way you bare me with your touch, and how easily everything fades away the moment your lips are on mine. Even if needing that from you scares the shit out of me.”

“I know.” Spinning me in his arms, he takes my face in his hands, eyes searching mine. “You’re safe with me, Henley.”

Nodding my head, I don’t tell him how deeply I feel those words. He doesn’t need to hear that I have never felt safer with anyone in my life, than I do when I’m in his arms. Mostly because I can’t form the words for him, even if I wanted to. The night he stepped in-between Donnie and I during an argument, I had no doubt Colt would move Heaven and earth to protect me. I knew that meant something. That no matter how hard I tried to deny there was anything happening between us, I knew deep down I wanted it to.

It doesn’t matter that the thought of someone getting inside my heart terrifies me beyond words. Even if it meant getting this close to him would shatter my defenses and leave me exposed, vulnerable, and helpless in ways I swore I’d never be again. I’ve wanted Colt since the moment I met him.

And he’s right.

If the man looking down at me as if I were the most precious thing in the world to him walked away from me right now, the regret would haunt me. Colt would forever be a ghost, his memory lingering long after he was gone. I would always wonder. For the rest of my life I would be left questioning the possibilities of what could’ve been, had I let go of the shit in my past and let down the walls I’ve spent too much time hiding behind.

Falling in love with Colt was easy.

Letting him love me back, knowing nothing that feels this good lasts forever, is the hard part.