Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 42685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 213(@200wpm)___ 171(@250wpm)___ 142(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 213(@200wpm)___ 171(@250wpm)___ 142(@300wpm)
She needed him. If Malorie got an eye full of April’s cunt, then she shouldn’t have been looking.
We hurried down the stairs after her, our boots pounding on the wood, and as soon as Capone walked through the clubhouse doors, April launched herself into his arms. He stumbled back into Hawke and Brewer, his hands grasping her thighs, his fingertips digging into her soft flesh. Hawke and Brewer quickly steadied them before they ran their hands over April’s back and hair, doing their best to ease her worries as she cried into his Capone’s neck and clung to him, her nails digging into the back of his neck hard enough to draw blood.
Capone cupped her cheek and forced her head up. He rested their foreheads together, and my heart broke as I watched her lips tremble. “I’m here, baby girl,” Capone soothed. “I’m okay, and I’m home,” he promised.
CHAPTER 17
Smokey
Seeing April so distraught tore at my fucking insides. Left me feeling raw and splayed open. When what was bothering her was something I couldn’t protect her from—like her mind—it made me feel crazy. Like I was out of control. It sent me back into the dark place I’d fought like hell to get out of. To stay out of.
Capone settled into a chair at one of the tables, his hands running over her hair and back as he let her cry it out. She’d saved his life today. There was no doubt about that. But the things she must have seen in her dream had to have been horrifying. I’d already heard most of it, but I knew it was nothing compared to essentially living through it like she had.
For a split moment, she’d lived in a world where Capone no longer existed. Where she had no idea if Hawke and Brewer were still alive. How she wasn’t throwing up, I had no idea. Because even catching a glimpse of that kind of vivid nightmare would have me spewing everything I had inside of me.
Tank suddenly gripped the back of my neck, and I blinked before turning my head to look at him. He was crouched in front of me. Fuck, when the hell had I even sat down? Had I really been that out of it?
“You here with me, boy?” Tank rumbled, his concerned eyes running over my face. “You spaced out.” His thumb stroked over my neck, and I shivered, focusing on his touch to ground myself.
April was no longer crying and was now swiping at her cheeks. She’d been transferred to Hawke’s lap, and he and Brewer were softly talking to her. Christ, I’d been out of it a good minute. No wonder Tank looked so concerned.
“You know we’d never let anything happen to him, don’t you, doll?” Hawke gently asked April, drawing my eyes to him.
“Daddy,” her chin wobbled, “my dream—”
“Okay,” Brewer said softly, his fingers combing through her long, dark hair. His eyes were tender as he gazed at her, his hand never stopping its soothing stroking over her hair. “Alright, sweetheart. Deep breaths, you hear me? You’ve got to tell us what you saw.”
“Baby boy,” Tank rumbled, drawing my eyes back to him, “light up, you hear me? Otherwise, you’re not going to make it through this.”
“I’m fine,” I mumbled. But I still reached into the pocket of my cut and grabbed the long, slim container that held my rolled blunt.
“No, you’re not,” Tank retorted, not letting me downplay how I was feeling. “When she has these dreams, you’re never fucking okay, Smokey. And I get it. We all get it. Which is why I’m telling you to smoke. You need to calm down, and honestly, our girl needs it, too.”
I looked up when a shadow loomed over me, my hand in my pocket, trying to fish out my lighter. Hawke was holding April in his arms, and his intentions were clear. He was deciding to help both of us; he was going to give her to me to hold. She would be held and get to smoke, and I would get to feel like I was keeping her safe while I relaxed as well.
I quickly pulled my lighter out, lit up, and then patted my lap. Hawke gently set April on my legs, and I placed the blunt between her lips. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, still glassy with unshed tears. My heart splintered, and my fingers spasmed with the urge to do something—anything—to get rid of the uncontrolled sensations thrumming through me.
I couldn’t do a goddamn thing to help her.
I pressed my lips to the top of her head. “You saved him, baby,” I quietly told her.
She sniffled and slowly blew smoke from her lungs, but I could tell my words helped her. That—those three words—were what she needed to hear.
Capone dragged a chair closer and slid his hand over her thigh, and his fingertips brushed my thigh as well, comforting both of us. Our eyes met for a moment, and he nodded once at me before focusing on our woman. “Talk to me, baby girl. Tell me your dream. Every bit of it you can recall.”