CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“How many times do we have to go over this?” I screamed.

The two police detectives, a man and a woman both dressed in plain clothes, glanced at each other before glancing back down at me.

“Ms. Matthews,” the man said calmly. “I know you’re upset, but what you’re telling us doesn’t make any sense. Now, which one of the men are you romantically involved with?”

Shrieking, I buried my face in my hands.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Ms. Matthews,” the woman said. “I understand how hard this is right now, but we need to know everything that happened.”

Of course they did. They had to know right this motherfucking second. Who cared that Cage was bleeding out all over an operating table? Not them. They’d taken one look at the leather cut the doctors had handed them, read the words “Hell’s Horsemen,” and immediately thought the worst of him.

Who cared that I just watched the man I loved get shot twice in the chest, cough and wheeze and spit blood all over himself? Who cared that I watched as his eyes rolled back and his body went limp, or that I had to stand by and watch as the paramedics jammed a tube into his lungs to help him breathe, or that he was now in surgery as trauma surgeons attempted to remove the bullets and repair the damage to his lungs?

These fuckers didn’t care.

“Cage,” I hissed, jerking my head up. “I am involved with Cage.”

“And Mr. Jeffries?” the man asked. “What was your relationship with him?”

“ZZ,” I said. “And he was my roommate. And just FYI, if you go around asking about Zachary Jeffries, no one is going to know who the fuck you are talking about!”

“ZZ, then,” the woman said, squeezing my shoulder. “Were you ever involved with him? Is that why he shot Cage?”

Embarrassed, I closed my eyes. “Yes,” I whispered.

God, this was all my fault. All of it. Why couldn’t I do anything right? What the fuck was so wrong with me that I couldn’t even coexist like a normal fucking human being?

“Tegen!”

At the sound of my mother’s voice, my body spurred into action. Shaking off the detective, I jumped out of my seat and went running toward the reception area where my mother met me halfway and threw her arms around me. Suddenly, I was roughly yanked out of her arms and Deuce was gripping my arm painfully tight and bearing down on me, his blue eyes burning. “Where is he?” he growled.

“I-I…” I swallowed hard and tried again. “He’s in surgery,” I finished quickly.

“Not Cage!” he shouted, shaking me. “Where the fuck is ZZ?”

My eyes filled. “I don’t know,” I whispered. “He just left…he shot him and left.”

“Deuce,” Eva said quietly, appearing beside us. “Let her go.”

Deuce ignored her and continued to glare down at me. “This is your fuckin’ fault, you stupid fuckin’ bitch, and if my kid dies in there, you’re fuckin’ next, you feel me?”

My stomach seized and my tears spilled over.

“Let her go!” my mother cried.

“Dammit!” Eva yelled, trying to pry Deuce off of me. “You’re hurting her! Let her go!”

“Is there a problem here?” Both detectives had joined the fray and were both frowning heavily at Deuce.

“You fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” he barked in their direction. “My kid is who the fuck knows where with holes in him and you pantsuit-wearin’ motherfucks are askin’ me if there’s a motherfuckin’ problem?”

Again, the two detectives glanced at each other.

“Cole West,” the male said, his voice flat, his expression clearly repulsed.

“Yeah,” he snarled. “You wanna fuckin’ autograph?”

“Either you release Ms. Matthews,” the female warned, “or I will arrest you for assault.”

“Baby,” Eva said softly, running her hand up his arm and gripping his bicep. “This isn’t Tegen’s fault and even if it was, this isn’t helping Cage at all.”

Nostrils flaring, glaring down at me, Deuce yanked me roughly forward and up onto my tiptoes.

“Get the fuck outta this hospital,” he gritted out. “Stay the fuck away from my boy and my fuckin’ club. I see you, Tegen, I fuckin’ so much as smell you, I will crack your fuckin’ skull wide open.”

With a hard shove, he sent me stumbling sideways into my mother.

“Let’s go,” she whispered loudly, gripping tightly to my middle. “Right now, baby.”

“Don’t leave town, Ms. Matthews,” the male detective called out.

Shaking, I turned my body into my mother and let her guide me toward the elevators.

“I mean it, D,” Deuce bellowed from behind us. “I see her anywhere near—”

My mother skidded to a stop and whirled around. “You’ll never see her again!” she spat angrily. “You’ll never see me or my kids again!

“And if this is anyone’s fault,” she continued. “It’s mine for bringing an innocent little girl around a criminal motorcycle club full of self-important assholes who think with their dicks and their guns instead of their brains!”

On our way to the elevators, we passed by Danny, Ripper, Cox, and Jase, and I turned back toward my mother, refusing to meet their eyes.

“D!” Jase called out.

My mother picked up her pace.

“D, what the fuck!”

Stopping again, she spun around to face Jase as he quickly approached us, and pointed her index finger at him. “Don’t say a fucking word,” she hissed. “I’m not married to you, I don’t share a child with you, I have absolutely nothing in this world tying me to you.”

Jase’s eyes widened. “But you said we could talk.”

“I said that before my daughter was forced to experience yet another violent result of your club, and then publicly humiliated and shunned by the only family she’s ever had because of it!”

“D,” he whispered, raising his arm and holding out his hand. “Don’t do this.”

Setting me aside, my mother stepped forward and slapped Jase’s hand away.

“Come near me again,” she spat, her features twisting with disgust and hatred. “And I will kill you.”