Doc (The Kings of Mayhem MC Tennessee 2)

Sweat gathers on his forehead, and he whimpers around the slide, pleading for mercy.

I’m not going to kill him.

There’s no way I’m going to prison because of this piece of shit. No, I just want him to feel real fear. I also want him to know he didn’t win.

And maybe piss his pants a little.

Which he does.

“You’re a pathetic piece of shit. And just so you know, you’re going down for attempted murder.”

Without warning, I pull the gun from his mouth and kick my boot into his face, breaking his nose and knocking him out cold.

Stepping over him, I reach for Bronte. “Are you okay?”

She nods. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Despite my heart racing in overdrive, I manage a small laugh. “Nice move with the vase.”

She blows out a deep breath. “You had my back… now, I’ve got yours. Us queens have got to stick together.”

I move to hug her, but her smile fades quickly. “Oh God, Lily…”

“What?”

I follow her line of sight to the front of my shirt, where a bright red stain is bleeding across the fabric. I didn’t even hear the gun go off or feel the bullet rip into my chest.

But I’m feeling it now.

I look back to Bronte.

And as my world disappears before my very eyes, I fall to the floor.

DOC

I’ve never pushed my bike as hard or as fast as I’m doing right now, weaving through afternoon traffic like a madman, leaving my brothers trailing behind me in my wake.

Not even Pinkwater can catch me in his police cruiser.

All I know is I have to get to the hospital before the Inferno.

“You take something from me, and you’ve got to expect me to take something from you,” is repeatedly replaying in my mind.

To get to Jack and me, Max will go after our queens, and I’d bet on my life that he has sent Otto to do his damn dirty work.

My heart is like a galloping horse, and it feels like it’s running out of my chest to get to my girl before me. My eyes water from the speed of the wind whipping into my face. As I speed toward the hospital entrance, I catch a glimpse of a bald figure cutting across the lawn like he’s being chased by demons, and he disappears into an underground parking garage.

Otto.

I tear off the main road and roar down the ramp into the darkness of the garage. The loud bark of my Harley tells him I’m coming, and he stops. For a split second, he looks like he’s going to take off again, but then he turns back with an evil smile curling on his lips and I skid to a stop. His face is already bloody and swollen, and I have every intention of adding to it.

Hatred powers my strides across the empty parking garage toward him.

He holds his hands up, taunting me to come closer. “Bring it, fucker,” he sneers.

I don’t stop until I reach him, then bring my arm back, form a fist and strike him with a blow that almost knocks him to the ground. Gaining his equilibrium, he strikes back, but I’m so blind with rage, I don’t feel anything.

Everything bursts to the surface—what he did to Lily, how she suffered at his hands, how she still cries when she doesn’t think I can hear her— and like an overheated gasket, I blow, and all sense and reason vanishes like vapor as I bring my fists down on him, over and over again. Adrenaline fuels my rage, and I am at its mercy as I pound into his face so hard I feel my knuckles bruise and my skin break.

But I keep going.

I’m unable to stop.

Not when he falls to the ground.

Not when he stops fighting me because he’s unconscious.

Not when I’m almost out of breath and dizzy with rage.

And not when I hear Jack, Shooter, and Ares ride in.

I don’t stop until Ares lifts me off him, and I finally come back to myself.

“He’s done, brother,” the big giant says.

Panting, I look down at the bloody mess that is now Otto. I have more than rearranged his face, I’ve damn near taken it off.

I struggle for breath as the adrenaline begins to recede.

I don’t know if he’s dead or alive, and I honestly don’t care.

Like I’m in a dream, Pinkwater appears out of nowhere, and for some reason, that snaps me back into reality.

“Doc, you need to come now. Lily has been shot.”

I go through the motions, pacing the floor with my hands laced behind my head as I wait out the hours while Lily is in surgery.

Everyone tells me she’s going to be okay.

That she’s fierce.

She’s a fighter.

But I’m a doctor, and I know how catastrophic a bullet can be on the human body. How it can destroy organs, overwhelm her system, and affect the baby she is carrying.