Dixon's Resurrection (Hell Raiders MC Book 2) by Lowe Aden

Author:Lowe, Aden [Lowe, Aden]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aden Lowe
Published: 2015-09-29T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Dix wanted nothing so much as a good stiff drink of whatever had put him in such a state. The noise around him made his head thump harder and bright lights kept his eyes shut tight. What the fuck kind of partying had he done? Hell, it even hurt to breathe. And whoever insisted on talking non-stop needed to be shot.

A hoarse groan came out and he started to move a little. If he didn't get up to piss soon, it would be too late. He groaned again and started to roll to his side.

"Whoa, there, brother. You ain't going nowhere." That sounded like Fabio.

"Fuck you." The faint croak didn't sound half as tough as he'd meant, but who the hell cared. "Gotta piss."

Someone approached, tempting him to open his eyes and see who, but his head just hurt too bad. He tried moving again but heavy hands landed on his shoulders.

"Not so fast Slick. You're going to damage yourself if you keep this up." Someone pulled the blanket back and let the cold air reach his bare skin.

"The fuck, let me up." Cold plastic touched his dick and he pulled back in shock.

"Lay still, damn it. It's just a urinal bottle. You're not getting up."

Suddenly too tired to struggle anymore, he gave up. Taking a piss flat on his back with his dick stuck in a bottle took conscious effort, but the pressure in his bladder refused to be denied. When he finished, someone took the bottle away and pulled the blanket back over him. Sleep reached for him, but he resisted.

Something important—"Georgie." Just saying her name sent a wave of cold fear rolling down his spine.

"Hold on, kid. We're going to get you raised up a little and get you some liquids. Then it's time to come clean. We need to know every single detail." Fabio squeezed his shoulder.

The bed under him took a sickening shift, then the head raised until he sat in a sort of reclined position. A straw touched his lower lip. "Here, drink slowly. It's ginger ale. Should settle your stomach a little."

He took an experimental sip and the cold liquid flowed over his parched tongue and relieved the dry ache in his throat. Instantly more alert, he took another drink, but then the straw was taken away.

"That's it for now. Don't need you puking your guts up again." The bed creaked as someone sat by his feet. "Start talking."

He tried to open his eyes but light speared through his lashes and threatened to burn out his retinas. "Do something with that light." After a couple of seconds, the glow he could detect beyond his eyelids dimmed, and he tried again. This time he managed to get his eyes open to a slit, so at least he knew who was in the room. "What happened?"

Crank, sitting on the foot of the bed, shrugged. "That's what we're trying to figure out, man. Georgie called Kellen early this morning and said you were hurt. Kellen

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