The Butcher (Ruthless Sinners MC 10)

“Oh, yeah?” With his military background, Tripp wasn’t one to get rattled easily, so it concerned me that he looked like he’d seen a ghost. “What kind of problem?”

“A bad one... You need to come see this.”

Without saying anything more, he turned and started back out to the van. I followed, and when I made it to the back doors, Tripp motioned his hand inside and said, “The girl.”

“What about her?”

“She’s still alive.”

“That’s not possible.”

“Clearly, it is. Hell, look at her,” he urged. “The chick’s still breathing.”

I leaned in closer, and at first, I saw no signs of life. I thought Tripp’s mind was playing tricks on him until I heard a slight moan vibrate from her chest. Her breaths were low and shallow, but Tripp was right. She was still alive. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“I know! What the fuck are we going to do?”

“I don’t know.” I took a step back and ran my hand down my face. “I’m gonna need a minute.”

In all the years I’d been cleaning, I’d never run into a situation like this, and I didn’t have a clue what to do about it. I could’ve just finished her off. It certainly would’ve made things easier, but I was no murderer—neither were Hop or Tripp. That didn’t leave us many options. Hop must’ve been thinking along the same lines when he suggested, “We could always put her in the med room? Just let nature take its course.”

“You mean just let her die?” Tripp gasped. “We’re not gonna help her?”

“No, we’re not,” Hop answered flatly. “Saving her isn’t part of the job.”

“But she’s gonna die if we don’t do something.”

“Exactly.” Hop stepped over to Tripp as he told him, “If we help this girl and she ends up surviving this, then what? We just gonna let her go and hope she doesn’t tell the cops about us? Fuck no. We can’t take a chance like that.”

“He’s right,” I agreed. “We don’t need that kind of trouble on our hands.”

Tripp shook his head and sighed. “Damn, this is all kinds of fucked up.”

“It is what it is.” Hop stepped forward and reached for the women’s feet. “Let’s get her moved and finish up with the others.”

I hesitated for just a moment, then reached inside the van and helped Hop carry the young woman to the med room. We laid her down on the gurney, then covered her with a thin cotton blanket and left the room. My guilt gnawed at me as I followed Hop back out to the van. It just didn’t seem right to not do more for the poor girl, but like it or not, Hop was right. Helping her would only cause us problems.

None of us spoke as we went back out to the van and started unloading the others. There was a heaviness that had fallen over us, but we each did our best to ignore it as we continued with our duties. It wasn’t long before we had the van wiped clean and the last of the remains in the incinerator. Knowing Hop and Tripp were eager to call it a night, I went over and gave them both their cut for the night.

As he took the money from my hand, Tripp asked, “What about the girl?”

“I’ll handle her.”

“You sure you don’t want us to stick around and...”

“No, it’s late.” I motioned my head toward the door. “I’ll take care of it after I get you two back to the truck.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

They both followed me out to my car, and I took them straight to Hopper’s truck. Once they’d both gone, I drove back to the house to check in on the girl. I felt torn. A part of me hoped that she would’ve already succumbed to her wounds and had passed, but there was another part of me that hoped that she’d held on and would find the strength to pull through.

When I walked into the med room, she was still lying on the gurney, and the blanket was still draped over her body. She was so still, almost eerily so, and I was beginning to think she’d passed when her eyes fluttered open. My stomach twisted into a knot when she moaned, “Please...help me.”

A shallow breath escaped her lungs, and then her eyes fell shut once again. I couldn’t do it anymore. I had to do something. I knew it was a bad idea, but I couldn’t just leave her there to die alone. I stepped over to the gurney and took her hand in mine as I whispered, “It’s going to be okay.”

She gave my hand a slight squeeze, then muttered, “I can’t.”

“You can,” I pushed. “You just gotta hold on.”