Unattainable (Undeniable, #3)(78)

“What the f*ck you talkin’ about?” Deuce asked, grabbing for the bottle in front of Mick. “Ain’t nobody run out on Cage. Idiot got himself shot because of…”

Deuce trailed off and his chest began to tighten.

He glanced over at Mick and Mick gave him a grim smile.

“Tegen,” Deuce finished.

“Tegen,” Mick repeated, nodding his agreement.

“You tryin’ to tell me he loves her?”

“Think about it,” Mick said as he shoved off his barstool. “He was all up on her during lockdown last year, every damn second, and I ain’t never seen him pay a female any more attention than it took to get his dick sucked until her. Then she’s sneakin’ out on him in the middle of the night and he’s actin’ like a damn fool because of it. Next thing you know, he’s haulin’ ass to Cali and instead of goin’ to Oakland, he heads straight to her.”

Deuce closed his eyes. Fuck. Tegen hadn’t snuck out. He’d pushed her out the damn door.

“I gotta get home, Prez. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

He watched as Mick headed out and when he was alone, other than Blue passed out on the bar, he placed his elbows on the counter and dropped his head in his hands.

He’d f*cked up. Again. In the midst of his rage, thinking he was about to lose his son, he’d placed all that blame on Tegen, told her to get the f*ck out, and stay the f*ck away.

Except none of that shit had been her fault. It was ZZ’s fault for pulling the trigger, it was Cage’s fault for pulling his piece in the first place, and it was his own fault for not realizing that whatever was between his son and Tegen went deeper than he’d thought.

Now what?

Dorothy had told Eva she wanted nothing to do with the club, Tegen hadn’t even tried to see Cage, and Cage was a f*cking wreck.

So, yeah, now f*cking what?

“Old man,” he barked, tossing a coaster in Blue’s direction. It hit the top of the man’s head and bounced off. “Could use some of that wiseass wisdom of yours right about now.”

Nothing.

“BLUE!” Deuce bellowed. “Wake the f*ck up!”

Nothing.

Cursing, Deuce got up out of his seat and walked the few feet between them. Grabbing Blue’s arm, he pulled and shook. “Motherf*cker,” he growled. “How much did you have today?”

Nothing.

When he let go of Blue’s arm, the limb fell limp and heavy at his side, and all at once the old man’s body began to slump. Deuce grabbed him before he could slide to the floor and heaved him up in his seat. As Blue’s head rolled back, panic rose in Deuce’s gut.

The f*cker’s eyes were wide open.

“Blue!” he yelled, hauling him off the seat and laying him out flat on the floor. He bent his head over Blue’s mouth and nose and went still. He wasn’t breathing.

Panic turned to fear and Deuce’s chest locked up like a vice.

“Blue! Dammit, Blue!”

Pinching the man’s nose closed, Deuce covered Blue’s mouth with his own and breathed into it. Chest compressions were next. More breathing.

And, nothing.

“Blue!” he bellowed, his fists clenching. “Wake the motherf*ck up!”

Tears pricked his eyes and his clenched fists came crashing down on Blue’s chest. “Wake up, you stupid old f*ck! Wake the f*ck up!”

Breathing hard, his chest aching, Deuce staggered to his feet. With shaking hands, he reached inside his cut for his cell phone when suddenly sharp pain sliced up his left arm and straight into his chest. His cell phone dropped to the floor and both his hands flew to his chest.

More pain followed and his throat tightened.

“Jesus,” he gasped, clawing at the center of his chest. The pain was so great, dizzying, that his legs gave out and he dropped to his knees.

Desperate, he reached out, searching blindly for his phone, but the pain was everywhere now. In his chest and neck, in both of his arms. It felt like he was being squeezed from the inside out with a rope made of razor blades.

Unable to find his phone, he called out to his son but his words were garbled and heavy with pain.

Quickly weakening and light-headed, he slumped to his side. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be f*cking dying. Not yet. At least, not now. Not when he had kids who still needed him, Ivy and Damon, his eight-month-old son. He had a grandbaby he adored, and a wife, goddammit, a wife he hadn’t had nearly enough time with on this earth to f*cking satisfy him. He couldn’t go yet. He couldn’t leave them yet, not when his oldest son was in the middle of throwing his whole damn life away.

“Cage,” he choked out, the word barely a whisper.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE


“Mark,” Ellie said, pointing to one of her students in the second row. “How about you? What’s your take on Mr. Poe’s ‘The Raven’? What is the underlying message?”

The blond, blue-eyed, cocky high school athlete grinned and shook his head. “I have no idea.”

Ellie rolled her eyes. “Anyone else?”

Two students raised their hands, both female, as was typical. High school English didn’t seem to interest any of the males.

“Vanessa,” she said.

“Everlasting love,” the girl said. “And loss.”