Sick laughter fills the air as he holds the lighter in front of Violet’s face, the flames just an inch or two away from setting her on fire. His laughter gets under my skin, into my blood, filling me with rage. I forget about the pain flooding me and wrap my hands around the handle of the knife buried in me, pulling it free, clenching my teeth to keep from gasping in pain.
Then I stand. And lunge.
The knife hits him in the back of the neck, scraping along the back of his spine and severing his carotid artery from behind. Blood sprays from him, a fountainous shower of crimson.
And the lighter, still burning, drops from his fingertips. The gentle flame kisses the gasoline, and in seconds, the floor is an inferno.
I rip the knife out of Switchblade’s throat and cut Violet free.
“Jesus, Crash, oh my god, you are bleeding,” she says. “Here, let me help you. Just hold on.”
She stands, legs wobbly but eyes full of determination, and I lean on her for support as we race to the door. I stumble, twice, but each time she tightens her grip on me and pulls me forward, relentless.
Outside, I collapse.
And the last thing I see before the lights go out is her worried face leaning over me and her mouth forming the words “I love you.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Violet
“Don’t die on me. Please don’t die on me.” My words drift into the urgent night as I heft him into the front seat of my car, heaving with every bit of might in my adrenaline-flooded muscles. I’m not strong, but the fear pumping through my veins gives me enough power to lift him inside my truck and slam the door.
“Don’t die. Please, Crash, don’t die. I love you. I love you. Please stay with me.”
I start my truck, slam the gas down, and speed toward the nearest hospital.
In my rearview mirror, I see the flickering glow of fire as flames consume what used to be my bar.
And I hardly spare it a second thought. All I care about is the man beside me, who put his mission for the club and his own life on the line just to save me.
I knew he cared.
And I know I do, too. Beyond any doubt, I want him, and I want to be a part of his life.
“I love you, Crash. So don’t you fucking die, you hear me? We have so many days to spend together. So much to see, so much to do. Josie wants you to teach her to ride a motorbike. Did you know that? She and I were talking earlier. I let her watch Mad Max, and one guy was riding a motorcycle and she just went on and on about how she wants to be like you and Snake when she grows up. You need to be around for that. You need to stay alive so you can teach her, because I don’t think I’ll be able to convince Kendra to let Snake teach her how to ride. He’s too crazy. So you’re her only shot. Please, don’t die,” I ramble the entire drive, spilling every thought about him, us, our future, while I take every turn and intersection on the way to the hospital at breakneck speed.
The hospital lights grow in the distance, and I come to a screaming stop on the curb in front of the ER. I throw the truck in park and kick the door open, running, screaming for help, straight into the ER, and I grab the first doctor I see and drag him out to my truck.
In our wake come a pair of a doctor and a nurse wheeling a gurney.
And all I can do is say, over and over, how Crash can’t die.
Even as they load him onto the gurney, I run along beside them.
“You can’t die. We have too much to do and, don’t forget, you’ve got all that business to take care of that you’re always blathering on about. You can’t forget about that, Crash. There’s too many people that need you.”
Deeper in the ER, a nurse puts her arm around my shoulders and brings me to a stop.
“You need to wait outside. They will take care of him, but you need to stay out of their way. Can you do that for me?”
I nod. Let her guide me to the waiting area. Where I sit, rocking back and forth in my seat with frantic energy.
This can’t be how it ends. He can’t come all the way back, show me how much he cares, and then die before we enjoy even one moment reunited.
Another nurse approaches. She’s got kind eyes, which is about all I can see of her face, since she’s wearing a surgical mask.
“Hey, do you have anyone we can call?”
I stop. Think. I could call Kendra, I know she’d come here in a heartbeat, but the last thing I want to do is drag her down here after everything she’s been through.
“No, I don’t,” I reply.
Instead, I opt for sending Kendra a text letting her know that I’m OK. That she shouldn’t worry about me and that I’ll be in touch with her soon. I hope she takes it to heart and enjoys the time with her daughter.
“OK, but I don’t think you should be alone. My shift is over in ten minutes. Would you mind if I sat with you? We don’t have to talk or anything, if you don’t want to. I’ll just be here. My name’s Alice.”
“Thank you, Alice,” I say.
True to her word, ten tense minutes later, Alice returns and she takes the seat next to me. She lets out a relieved sigh as she takes a
