Forgiven: Ryder and Sawyer 3 (Fallen Idols Motorcycle Club Book 9) Read Free Page B

care?”
    She looked absolutely fucking crazy, but she was still the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I mentally punched myself. Beauty meant shit when it belonged to a heartless, child-stealing bitch.
    CeCe opened her mouth to talk, when Sawyer grabbed her by her ponytail, and tossed her ass out into the hall, slamming the door in her face. She clicked the lock, which I should have done earlier, and then stalked over to me. I stuffed my shit back in my pants, and pulled my zipper up.                                                   
    “I came here to apologize. To beg you to forgive me.” Tears pricked her eyes, but she was strong in her resolve. “Now, I realize how much of a mistake that was. You’re a lying bastard!”
    “Me?” I punched my chest as anger coursed through my veins.
    “You promised me.” There was a crack in her resolve, and tears poured down her cheeks. “You told me you’d take care of him. Told me to trust you. And look at him now. He’s lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to a million fucking machines.” She came at me, hands wailing away against my chest. “Because of you!”
    I grabbed her wrists, and held her back. She fought me, tossing and turning her arms, but I refused to let go. I tightened my grip, and pulled her close until she was looking straight into my eyes. “Don’t you dare put the blame on me. I did what I could.”
    “I trusted you,” she cried out, as she fought my hold. I finally threw her arms away from me. “I trusted you,” she repeated.
    “I guess I’m just living up to your expectations,” I growled.
    “What is that supposed to mean?”
    “I’m incapable of protecting the ones I love. Isn’t that why you left? Why you took my fucking son away from me?”
    Her lips parted, and I waited for more bullshit to come out of her mouth. “I hoped you’d prove me wrong, but that’s okay, because I’m getting used to you disappointing me. Go back to your sluts and your liquor.”
    “At least they don’t expect fucking miracles from me.”
    She shook her head. “I never expected any miracles. Just a little compassion.”
    “You want compassion? Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out. How’s that for compassion?”
    Her lip curled, and fire raged in her eyes. She took long strides toward me until I could see the tears building on her lids. “Not for me. You couldn’t protect Cruz, but you can be there for him now, and what are you doing? Drinking yourself into an early grave. Have you even been by the hospital?”
    I clenched my teeth, and my jaw ticked.
    “That’s what I thought,” she spat, and stormed out of the room.   
    “What the fuck are you doing here?!” Trista yelled out in the hallway.
    “Oh, fuck off!” Sawyer screamed.
    Two seconds later, Trista stomped into the room. “I’m either going to put a muzzle on that bitch or shoot her.”
    Ignoring her, I walked over to grab the Jack when I realized it was splattered across the wall. Fuck me. Luckily, I had another bottle stashed beneath the couch cushions. I twisted the cap off, tossed it across the room, and took a few gulps, relishing in the burn.
    Trista ripped the bottle from my hand, and spilled more Jack on the carpet. Such a damn waste. She slammed the bottle down on the table, and shoved me hard in the chest.
    “What the fuck was that for?” I demanded.
    “Axel wanted to give you another day, but I am sick and fucking tired of your shit.”
    “Get in line!” I muttered, and fell back into the couch. “Besides, why the fuck do I need to be sober? We figured out who was stealing our parts, the rat was found and dealt with, we have a truce with El Presidente, Velasquez got his ass fired, so all is right in the world again.”
    “All is not right in the world!  Open your fucking eyes. Cruz was shot, and we have no idea why. It’s pretty clear he was working with Las Almas, but for what reason? And, if