Doc (The Kings of Mayhem MC Tennessee 2)

“Hey!” Ares’ deep baritone voice calls out across the clearing. He’s just beyond the trees, signaling for us to come over.

Turning my back on Jack, I start to run toward Ares but come to a sudden halt when I see what he’s pointing to.

A few yards away is the burned-out wreck of a car, and inside are charred remains.

Lily.

My mind screams her name as I run blindly toward it, my heart galloping like a wild horse in my chest. Ares tries to stop me, but I push past him and make a run for it, for her, and I don’t stop until I reach the car.

The body is in the driver’s seat, and it is charred beyond recognition. No hair. No clothes. Nothing but scorched and blackened bone.

Horror washes over me, and my skin prickles with dread.

Did Lily try to escape, and they stopped her?

There’s a hole in the skull. A bullet hole.

Please don’t let it be Lily.

A glint of metal beside the skeleton catches my eye, and I reach into the wreckage to pick it up.

It’s Lily’s charm bracelet.

Time stops as a vicious pain roars out of me. It’s so ferocious I have to tip my head back to let it out.

They killed her.

They killed her because of me.

I grip the edge of the window frame despite the hot metal burning into my skin. Jack pulls me away, and I try to fight him, but right now, I’m no match for his strength, and he manages to drag me in the opposite direction.

Devastated, I glance back at the burned-out car.

“Don’t look, brother,” Jack says. “Just don’t fucking look.”

He and Ares lead me out of the woods and into the clearing where the UFO Hotel smolders in the pale sunlight.

Overcome with guilt and despair, I fall to my knees.

Jack crouches down. “We don’t know it’s her.”

He’s right. We don’t. But the silver bracelet in my hand speaks volumes.

I clutch it in my palm and squeeze my eyes closed.

I. Fucking. Left. Her.

And no matter what anyone says, that fact will never change.

Jack tries to console me, but I push him away, struggling to my feet and stumbling away from him. I have to keep moving. I can’t stand still, or I’ll combust from the pain.

My mind whirls with too many thoughts at once, and I can’t grab onto a single one of them long enough to make any sense of the situation. I lace my fingers behind my head and begin to pace as my brothers watch me unravel in front of them.

They don’t know what I’ve been through these past three days.

They don’t know how beautiful Lily is or how I feel about her.

They don’t know what we found together during those dark hours when I wasn’t sure I was going to make it out alive.

But as my meltdown gathers momentum, they soon start to realize that this woman isn’t a stranger to me, that she is something else entirely.

Unable to bear it, I race toward the place where I last saw Lily alive.

I stand in the rubble of the Sky Dome room, where I’d made love to her beneath the galaxy of stars.

There is nothing left.

Nothing but smoke, charred rubble, and the haunting echo of her.

DOC

Back at the clubhouse, I get drunk.

And I mean wasted.

For the first time in years, I crave the bottom of a bottle, and I don’t give a fuck how sick it’s going to make me. When my brothers try to stop me, I disappear into my room and lock the door, so I can get shitfaced in peace.

I’m not ready to talk.

Correction, I’m not ready to talk about her.

Or what she meant to me.

Or what happened between us.

Before I start vomiting, I just want to drown it out with as much whiskey as my body will let me consume, which is three-quarters of a bottle. But even then, it doesn’t stop me. I make it back to my bed and drag the bottle to my lips and keep on drinking.

When Jack hammers on my door, I ignore him.

When Jack threatens to break it down, I ignore him.

When Jack threatens to break it down and then kill me, I stumble to the door to unlock it, just so he’ll shut the fuck up.

“Is it worth it?” he asks when I stagger back to my bed and collapse onto the mattress.

“I don’t give a fuck anymore,” is what I think I say. But what actually comes out must be something completely different because Jack doesn’t understand me.

“What the fuck was that? Whiskey talk? Or have you lost the use of your lips?” He pulls my boots off and nudges me until I roll onto my back, snatching the bottle from my loose fingers. “You’ve got tonight to indulge in this fucking pity party. Tomorrow we talk.” He rolls me onto my side before walking out and closing the door behind him.