Chapter 24

If you listen closely, you can hear me not caring.

-Parker to Rafe

Parker

I was in the hospital.

Not for injuries I’d sustained taking down a notorious serial killer.

No, I was in the hospital for complications from the fuckin’ flu, on top of strep throat, with a bit of the previous cold I’d gotten from my little dip in the pond while in Virginia thrown in for good measure.

Kayla had just gone home to change out of the clothes she’d been wearing since the day before and to catch a quick shower—with supervision in the form of her friend, Johnny Mackenzie, at her side.

Johnny, I’d learned, was the grandson of one of the founding members of a motorcycle club in Louisiana. But, despite his obvious affection for my girl, I didn’t deem him as a threat. Especially when the only reason he was there was to take Kayla home to change and to make sure she wasn’t accosted by the reporters as she did it.

Honestly, I was glad that she was going home.

I fuckin’ hated that she was sleeping in a freakin’ chair. I also hated that she was being subjected to this media bullshit. They were relentless, and four of the reporters had already snuck into my room disguised as various types of hospital employees.

One of those had been about twenty minutes ago.

I honestly wasn’t expecting another attempt, that was why I’d closed my eyes and allowed myself a moment to rest.

Yesterday, I’d found out that I had pneumonia thanks to a late-night ER visit, and I was admitted. They thought I would have to stay until at least this afternoon so they could run some stronger antibiotics through my system.

The door opening barely registered to me, as lost in not being able to breathe as I was.

Then I heard someone sit down beside my bed—in the hard chair that was on the opposite side of where Kayla usually sat.

I opened my eyes and found myself staring at one of my worst nightmares.

Raglan.

The man who had ruined my life. The man that had taken my sister’s and mother’s lives. The man that I had dreamed about killing for what felt like a lifetime.

The only thing that had been keeping me under control was the knowledge that he was serving time—and not even for what he’d done. Something somebody else had done.

He’d kept the killing of my family quiet, and every single member of the gang I’d once been a part of had protected him. Covered for him. When he wouldn’t have done the same for them.

Now, I had to live my life without them.

And he was out.

“Get. Out.”

Raglan grinned. “Is that how to greet an old friend?”

My stomach sank at that oh, so fucking familiar voice.

I hadn’t heard it in a long time, but apparently, it wasn’t long enough to forget who the voice belonged to.

I could still hear him saying the words: your sister or him.

“You weren’t my friend, motherfucker.”

It’d been a very long time since I’d seen him, but it was obvious that he’d aged well.

As had I.

I lifted myself out of the bed, and he pulled a gun out from his pants before I could get my feet fully on the floor.

“I don’t think so.”

I snarled at him. “Fuck you.”

“What makes you think you can live a good life?” he asked, leaning forward. “What gives you the right? You took everything from me. My woman. My son. You made me do what I did. I don’t ever bluff, and you forced my hand with your sister. My kid has absolutely nothing to do with me, do you know how that feels? And now I get to watch on the news how you and your little girlfriend found a fucking serial killer? Fucking seriously?”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

I was happy. Deliriously so.

I was also pissed.

How the hell had I not found out that he’d gotten out? I wouldn’t say I was in good with the cops, but I wouldn’t say I wasn’t in with them, either. They knew—not just suspected—what this man had done to my sister and mother. They knew, yet their hands were tied. There were only so many ways they could fix it, and they had punished him with what they could punish him with—which apparently was only twenty years instead of the promised thirty.

I was supposed to have ten more years before I had to worry about him.

Then my stomach sank.

Kayla was gone, but she was supposed to be back within the hour.

I swallowed, wishing I had my gun on me.

But, again, my concealed carry weapon was taken after I’d shot the serial killer—who was surprisingly down the hall just two doors down.

They’d bagged it up in an evidence bag and promised to return it once the investigation was over—which was likely going to be for a while since this man had hit so many fucking states. There was a possibility that I’d never see it again.

And I’d never wished so hard for an inanimate object in my life.

“I saw my son was on a professional baseball team now. Maybe I should go hit him up.”

My hand that was free of an IV clenched in the sheets.

“Nothing to say to that, motherfucker?”

“Gunner will never give you the time of day. Not after what you did to his mother. I don’t think that needs to be said, though. I’m sorry if you’re more stupid than you look,” I replied, my tone even, but my heart pounding inside of my chest so hard that it felt like it was rocking my body.

Raglan leaned forward, and I just barely checked the urge to lift my leg and try to kick him.

I could’ve probably done it, but he wasn’t close enough to get a solid shot on him.

That, and I could barely pick up my leg.

Everything on me felt like it was attached to a ton of bricks. Even my thoughts were sluggish.

Stupid fucking pneumonia.

“Saw you saved a kid’s life, too. Boy, have you been busy trying to redeem yourself,” Raglan continued as if I hadn’t just insulted him. “Saw that pretty girl that you were banging, as well. You think she wants to take a ride on the Raglan Train?”

I did kick him, then.

He fell back and hit my IV pole, which immediately ripped the IV from my arm.

I didn’t notice the pain, though.

Nor did I notice the door to my room being pushed open.

I might very well not be able to get up from this, but I was about to fuck him up, even if I had to die doing it. If there was one person on this planet who wasn’t going to be harmed—it was Kayla. Not now, not ever.

I’d do everything in my power to make sure that it never happened, even make a deal with the devil himself.

Raglan laughed as he got back up. “You have the power of a kitten right now, and you think you can best me? Bitch, I’ve been in prison for twenty years just waiting for this day.”

Then he got up and started to stalk over to the bed.

I had the call light in my hand and raised it.

Raglan laughed.

Then fell to the ground when a chair came swinging at his forehead.

I opened my mouth, closed it, then opened it again as I stared at the man that had been standing at Raglan’s back.

Bryce ‘Loki’ Rector was standing there, chair in hand, chest heaving.

His eyes were on Raglan, and they were not friendly.

The scar on his neck was vivid and clearly on display—not that I was sure he cared what people thought of his scar.

We stared at each other for a few long seconds before Raglan moaned and started to get up.

That was when Loki brought the chair down on him again, this time something inside of him clearly snapping with the move.

I found myself snickering.

This was just the icing on my karma cake.

“We took a ride to make sure that the kid was okay after that serial killer debacle, and I thought I’d run on by and let you know a few things.”

I swallowed.

I was fairly certain I didn’t want to hear his few things.

“Was going to come up here and tell you I didn’t like what you were doing with Kayla…then I saw him,” Loki said. “The moment I heard his voice, I wanted to kill him.”

I wholeheartedly agreed. I had wanted to kill the motherfucker, too.

“I don’t blame you.”

I didn’t say anything.

It didn’t matter that he didn’t blame me. It mattered that I blamed me.

And I never would stop feeling guilty for doing what I did to him—nearly taking his life.

“You didn’t have to call the cops.”

No, I didn’t.

“You also didn’t have to make sure that I didn’t bleed out.”

No, I didn’t have to do that, either.

“I knew what he was doing to you. Giving you an ultimatum that you couldn’t possibly choose between. But, just between us, I would’ve chosen the same. If it was you or my sister, I’d choose her. Every single day and twice on Sunday. Family first.”

Raglan’s head was now bleeding, and I wondered if it was his skull that cracked.

“We all knew what we were doing back then. All of us made our own bad decisions, and each of us had to live with the repercussions.” He paused, and I lifted my gaze to stare at him. “I should kill him.”

I shook my head. “No, you shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because now both of us know what happened, and we can send him back there…plus, I have a reason to keep him alive,” I explained, then looked at him curiously. “As long as you don’t plan on killing me or telling them that I slit your throat when I was a kid.”

He stared at me curiously for a few long seconds, then shrugged.

“I already said that I don’t hold a grudge. Did it suck? Yes. But I got out, which was what I wanted.” He narrowed his eyes. “What’s that reason?”

The smile lifted my tired mouth, and I couldn’t have stopped it if I tried.

“I don’t see why he gets to have a good life when my sister and mother didn’t get to have one.” I bared my teeth at the man that still wasn’t moving. “He spent twenty years in the pen, but that twenty years he at least knew he was getting out once those years were served. My sister and mom don’t get that same benefit. I want him to suffer, and I want to watch him do it.”

Loki didn’t say anything for a few long moments. “I have a few friends that might be able to help. Because I agree…this motherfucker made my younger years hell.”

At least we were agreeing.

Oh, and he wasn’t killing me.

There was that.

I doubted we would ever be friends, but the enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that jazz.