The Butcher (Ruthless Sinners MC 10)

“She’s gone, sir.”

Refusing to believe that I’d lost her, I rushed over to the bed and pulled her into my arms, cradling her against my chest as I rocked back and forth. “I need you to wake up, sweetheart. Do you hear me? You gotta wake up!”

“Sir, she’s not going to wake up. She’s gone.”

“No!” I bellowed. “She’s just sleeping. She’ll wake up! She has to!”

“Sir...”

“Just give me a minute!” I loved this woman to my very core, and I couldn’t imagine living without her by my side. I could see that she wasn’t responding to me, but I continued to cradle her lifeless body against my chest as I cried, “You can’t leave us, Grace. You hear me? You can’t leave us. I can’t do this without you. You know that. Please, baby. Just wake up.”

Again, no response.

I looked down at her angelic face, and my heart shattered at the realization that she was gone. It broke me to know that I would never see her smile again. I would never hear her voice or feel her arms around me, and it was my fault. I should’ve been there. I should’ve made sure she was okay, but I was too fucking selfish—too wrapped up in my own fucking career.

The guilt I carried for failing her, for failing our daughter, broke me in ways I couldn’t imagine. It had been ten years, and I was still stuck in time. I hadn’t forgotten. I hadn’t let go. I still blamed myself, and I had a feeling I always would.

I closed my eyes and pushed the memories of that night to the back of my mind, and it wasn’t long before I finally drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, I got up earlier than usual. The sun hadn’t even come up when I went into the kitchen and made a cup of coffee. I carried it out to the porch, and it wasn’t long before Cy, an old stray Siamese cat that came by from time to time, came over to me and brushed his body against my shin. I leaned down and ran my hand down his back. “Hey there, buddy. You missing our girl?”

He gave me one of his odd little curdles, and I knew I’d gotten my answer. “Yeah, I miss her, too.”

Cy followed as I went into the house and placed my coffee cup in the sink.

I was about to go down to my office when I stopped dead in my tracks.

She was awake.

I could feel it in my bones, and by the way Cy was pacing back and forth, he could feel it, too. I glanced over at the security monitor, and just as I’d expected, the woman I’d rescued was starting to stir. Her eyes were still closed, but it was clear by the way she was moving about that she was finally coming to.

I’d been waiting for this day, and now that it was here, I wasn’t exactly sure what to do. I remembered Doc telling me to let him know when she woke up, so I took out my phone and sent him a message. I hoped he and Viper would be able to get back to me quickly because I was feeling a little apprehensive about going down to that basement by myself.

It was like Cy could read my mind as he looked up at me with those big, blue eyes and meowed. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

He didn’t move. He just sat there silently staring at me. “I just need a minute.”

For a moment, I thought he actually understood what I was saying, but I knew that wasn’t the case. I shook my head as I muttered, “Yeah, I know. This whole thing might bite me in the damn ass.”

Without procrastinating any longer, I walked over to the front door and let Cy out, then headed downstairs. When I walked into the med room, I was surprised to see that she was fully awake and looking at me with panic in her eyes.

I couldn’t blame her for being startled. She’d just woken up from three gunshot wounds to find herself locked away in a small, concrete room with the likes of me. A man she’d last seen in Antonio DeLuca’s office. Her breathing was ragged and her eyes wide as she squirmed back on the gurney and gasped, “Who are you?”

“You’re okay. No one’s gonna hurt you.”

“What is this place?” Pure panic marked her face as she looked around the room and shrieked again, “What is this place?”

“It’s just a room in my basement. Nothing more.”

“You have an infirmary in your basement?” Before I had a chance to answer, she added, “Are you a doctor or something?”

“Or something.”

“I don’t understand. What’s going on?” Her tone grew more frantic with each and every question. “Who are you? What do you want with me?”

“The name’s Billy, and you got nothing I want.”

My response was brusque and caused her mouth to clamp shut, but she quickly shook it off and asked, “Then, why am I here?”