Start a War (Saint View Psychos #1)(46)

I knew Josie wouldn’t fire me. She didn’t have enough staff to keep the place running if she lost both me and Vincent.

“I think that’s for the best. You’ve been a good employee, Bethany-Melissa. But Caleb has already called and stated that he’ll be spreading the word about what sort of person you are. Our children’s fathers very likely run in the same circles as him. In light of what has happened today, I do think that terminating both yours and Vincent’s employment is necessary.”

I gaped at her. “You’re seriously firing me?”

I’d never been fired from a job in my life. I was a model employee, always early in the mornings, always stayed back to help close, even though I didn’t get paid for it. I was a rule-follower at heart. I did as I was told.

But of course, Caleb had tried to spin this morning’s scene into something that portrayed him in a good light. Like the classic narcissist he was. Of course it was my fault. It always was. My hate for him doubled, then tripled, multiplying in on itself until it was almost all-consuming.

Josie took a few steps backward, like she could see the rage building. “If you have anything left at the center, I’ll have it sent to you. I’d prefer if you didn’t return.”

I had to hold myself in place while the woman walked away, her kitten heels clicking on the linoleum floor.

A few deep breaths later, I was finally composed enough to walk again. My phone buzzed with an incoming text, and I pulled it out. It was from an unknown number.

Is Kellan okay?

Another came in right behind it.

It’s Vincent.

And then another a moment later.

Vincent Atwood. From Lilybugs Daycare.

I almost laughed. Like I was expecting messages from so many Vincents that I would need both his surname and place of employment to identify him. The poor guy was about to get railroaded by Josie, and he didn’t even know it. I couldn’t let him go in unprepared.

Bliss: Kellan is fine. His parents arrived, and the doctor is with him. Josie is on the warpath, though. You’re about to get fired.

Vincent: Oh. I see. That’s unfortunate.

Unfortunate indeed.





17





WAR





The beep of the hospital monitors had become a permanent fixture in my ears, and I was sure my ass was now molded in the shape of the uncomfortable, hard plastic chair I’d been sitting on for three days.

My brothers and sisters from the club had all come by. Aloha had smuggled me in two bottles of bourbon, which I’d been steadily sipping from like it was water. His old lady, Queenie, had tried a more traditional approach and had brought several hot meals up for me, wrapped carefully in insulated containers. They all sat untouched on a counter in my mother’s hospital room, cold and forgotten because I wasn’t hungry.

My mother was too pale. I’d never once seen her look so lifeless, small, and helpless.

Fancy Maynard and helpless didn’t go together in one sentence. She would have knocked some heads together if anyone had ever so much as breathed the notion that she might not be fully capable of anything.

Except right now, she really wasn’t. There were tubes and machines keeping her alive, and she hadn’t moved once since I’d rushed right out of Psychos and burst into the ER demanding to be taken to her.

A heavy hand came down on my shoulder.

I jumped, automatically reaching for my gun stashed in the back of my jeans.

“Settle,” Hawk murmured. “It’s me.”

He’d been my best friend since we were little kids. Our old men were best friends too, and when Hawk and I had shot outta our mama’s lady business just ten days apart, our best friend status had seemed inevitable.

He was the only person who knew the real me. Everything about me, from what sorta cereal I liked in the morning to the type of women I wanted on my cock in the evening.

“How you doing, brother?” he asked carefully.

“Fucking losing it. Didn’t even hear you come in. You could have been one of the Sinners, and right now, I’d have a gun to the back of my head.”

Or worse. If someone from the rival club wanted me dead, my brains could have been sprayed all over Fancy’s crisp white hospital blankets.

First rule of this life. Be fucking aware of your surroundings.

Especially when there was clearly a hit out on your family.

Hawk tutted like he was a disappointed grandmother. “You need to go home. This shit ain’t safe. We have the whole compound in lockdown. Everyone but you.”

“Do what you want. Not leaving her. Not ’til I know she’s gonna get better. Or she…”

Nobody needed to fill the silence. Fancy was either still meant for this world, or she was leaving it along with my old man.

My gut knew the latter was more likely. The doctors had prepared me for it. I’d seen her deteriorate so quickly I was scared to turn away for fear she’d be gone when I looked back.

I still refused to believe it though.

“Stubborn jackass,” Hawk muttered. But he didn’t try to convince me again. He knew it was a losing battle. “I’m gonna go get us some coffee and some food, ‘cause you smell worse than the floor of Psychos, and your face is fucking gaunt.”

“That’s a big word for you,” I replied without any of my usual amusement. Hawk and I had been insulting each other for years. It was our love language, and an instinct, but I couldn’t find the humor in it today.