Stitch (Satan's Fury MC #2)

Before he left, Griffin walked over to me and said, “You with me on all this?”


“I’m with you,” I answered, lifting up on my tiptoes and quickly pressing my lips to his. When he turned to leave, my stomach dropped and my chest grew tight with worry. I had no idea what he was about to face, and the thought of losing him filled me with dread. Watching him walk towards that bike made my anxiety skyrocket to an unbearable level. “Griffin!”

He quickly turned around and before he could say anything, I rushed over to him, hugging him tightly. “Please be careful. I don’t know what is going on, but I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

He wrapped his strong arms around me, holding me tightly against his chest, and said, “Wren, it’s going to be okay. Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

“Promise?”

“I’ll be waiting for you back at the clubhouse,” he said. He stepped back, releasing me from his embrace and said, “I’ve got to get going.”

“I know. I’ll go pack,” I told him as I turned and headed towards the front door. I heard the motorcycle engine roar to life just as I was closing the door and before I even had a chance to think, Wyatt came running towards me.

“Do you know where my socks are?”

“Umm… I think they are on the dryer,” I told him. “I’ll get them.”

“And I need my good pajamas… and my slicky pants and pullover… and my…” he started.

“I’ll get everything. Just get your suitcase out of the front closet and take it to your room. I’ll be in there in a second to help you,” I explained.

Clutch was amused by Wyatt’s excitement, laughing under his breath as he watched Wyatt race back to his room. “He’s pretty stoked about all this, isn’t he?”

“You have no idea. Once he gets there, he may never want to leave,” I laughed. “Griffin doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into.”

“I think he does, and he seems pretty happy about it. You need any help with anything?” he offered.

“Not yet. Just make yourself at home,” I told him. “And if you’re hungry, there’s some food in the kitchen.”

“Want some coffee?”

“I’d love some. Thanks,” I told him as I headed for the laundry room. Once I’d bundled all of Wyatt’s things in my arms, I started towards his room to help him put everything in his suitcase. When I walked in, he had all of his clothes and games in neat little stacks on his bed. “Got the rest of your clothes. Why don’t you put them in your suitcase while I go get my things together?”

“Okay,” he answered.

I went into my room and opened my closet door, trying to decide what I needed to pack. Since I didn’t know how long we’d be there, I had no clue how much I needed to take with me. After mulling everything over, I decided to stick to the basics – jeans and t-shirts. I grabbed what I could fit in my suitcase and started loading it in my bag. When I was almost finished, I decided to go check on Wyatt’s progress.

Just as I was walking across the hall, I heard a man’s voice coming from the kitchen. It was low and husky, and even though I couldn’t hear what he was saying, something about it sent chills down my spine. Clutch roared back at him, and seconds later, I heard a thunderous bang. I’d never heard one up close, but I knew it was a gunshot. I stopped frozen in my tracks as pure panic washed over me. My first thought was to get to Wyatt; I needed to make sure that he was okay. I was headed towards his room when I heard Clutch call out to me.

“Run!” he shouted.

My breath caught in my throat when I heard another gunshot explode through the house, followed by the sound of footsteps charging in my direction. I slammed Wyatt’s door, locking it behind me. Adrenaline pulsed through my body as I hurried to pull his dresser in front of the door.

“Wyatt, I need you to come over here. I’m going to help you out of the window, and then I want you to run. Don’t look back… just run!” I pleaded as I opened his window.

The doorknob clicked back and forth, and when it didn’t open, a booming thud echoed through the room as someone tried to kick down the door. My breath quickened as I reached over for Wyatt.

“Momma, who is that?” he cried. His little body trembled as I lifted him into my arms. I eased him out of the window, and just as he feet were about to hit the ground, I saw him. His face was distorted with rage as he stole Wyatt from my grasp.

“Michael, NO!” I cried.





Chapter 18




Stitch

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