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Up in Smoke, Page 46

T. M. Frazier


  My hands are covered in blood. Not an inch of my skin can be seen through the thick red.

  I just killed for her. I’ve killed a thousand times before. But this was different. This meant more.

  I down another and another man until all that’s left is me and the sins I’ve committed.

  I sheathe my knife. It’s daylight. I know I told Frankie I’d meet her at the club, but I go back for her anyway.

  She’s not there, but the cuffs are.

  And the cuffs are covered in blood.

  “No!” I roar, racing through the woods. I race back to the townhouse where, thankfully, the van is intact.

  I speed the entire way to the Lawless MC clubhouse with my foot slammed to the floor. I run it right up to the gates and scare the shit out of Nine, who’s talking to the prospect standing guard.

  “Is she here?” I ask, pushing him to the side and running through the gates.

  “What the fuck happened to you?” The prospect asks. I pull my gun and aim it at his skull. “Is. She. Here?”

  “I…I…uh,” he stutters.

  “I’m here,” a voice says, and I spin around to see Frankie. Leaves in her hair. Clothes torn. In one motherfucking piece, Frankie.

  “Oh, thank fuck.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  “Guest room istwo doors down on the right!” Nine calls out as I race to Frankie and scoop her in my arms. I carry her into the room and slam the door shut, pushing her back up against it.

  I’ve heard love described as clean or pure. I’ve heard it a million times in a million different ways, but it’s always been like this big mythical unreachable shining white ball of fuckin’ glitter. It wasn’t real.