Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Fury
I wait patiently while Xanthe sews Logan’s wound. He works security at the fight club, and things got out of hand tonight. There’re always some fuckers thinking they can take on the world, and Logan is a big bastard, so it took a few of them to bring him to the ground, then they set on him like a pack of fucking animals. By the time we got there, they were gone, and he was bleeding out.
“Spare room?” asks Chevy, and Xanthe looks fit to burst.
“Absolutely not,” she snaps.
“He needs bed rest,” the doctor confirms, looking at her.
“This is my home,” she yells.
“And he will need a nurse to keep an eye on him for the next few hours,” the doctor continues.
“Which is why we should take him to hospital.”
“And say what,” snaps Chevy, “that you and this doctor you’ve never met cut him open on your kitchen table and performed an operation?”
“It was an emergency,” she argues. “I have a duty of care if it’s an emergency.”
“Did you check the doctor’s credentials?” he asks, smirking.
She glances helplessly at the doctor, who looks away. “Didn’t you check them?”
“I don’t need to,” says Chevy. “I already know he’s been struck off.”
“What?” she screeches.
Chevy points to Logan. “And he’s security at an underground fight that should not have taken place. And he ended up on your kitchen table. It looks to me like you’re running in the wrong circles.”
“Fuck you,” she hisses.
“So, spare room?” he asks again.
She ties off the last stitch and goes over to the sink to wash her hands. “We’ll find it,” I say.
“Take another drink, Logan,” says Chevy, holding the bottle of whiskey to his lips. He takes a few gulps, and we take a side each and ease him up off the table.
We help him up the stairs, and I let Chevy open each door until he finds the spare room. Once Logan is lying in the bed, we head out and leave the doctor to set up the drip again. “You’ll need to stay here,” says Chevy.
“Okay,” I reply, nodding. At least I’ll have a reason to be here with Xanthe.
“I’m gonna go back and update the boss,” he adds. “Let me know if anything changes.”
I follow him to the door, and once he’s left, I go back into the kitchen, where Xanthe is scrubbing the table as the aroma of bleach fills the air. “I’ve got to stay here,” I tell her. “Until Logan is well enough to leave.”
“Great,” she mutters.
“None of this is my fault,” I tell her.
“I never said it was.”
“But you’re pissed with me.”
“I’m pissed with all of you,” she snaps. “Fuck.” She slams her hands against the table.
I go to her and pull her against me. “We’ll think of something.”
“How? You can’t even get yourself out of the shit with him.”
“I’m only here cos my Pres wanted to punish me. Once I get back and tell him all this, he’ll get me out.”
“That doesn’t mean he’ll get me out,” she mutters. “I really think we should go to the police.”
I smile sadly, cupping her face until our eyes meet. “Xanth, it’s not as easy as that. The police can’t protect you from him.”
“But you can?”
“I’m gonna try.”
“What do you do for him, Reese? Why are you covered in blood?”
“It’s Logan’s blood,” I lie. “We tried to help him, but there was too much claret, and we couldn’t stop it.”
We hear footsteps and break apart right as the doctor comes in. Placing some meds on the table, he states, “Painkillers, every four hours. If anything changes or he deteriorates, call me.” I give a nod, and he leaves. I follow him, making sure to bolt the door.
When I return, Xanthe is looking at the label on the meds. “These are foreign,” she says. “I don’t even know what they are.”
“You heard him—they’re painkillers.”
“I don’t know that for sure, Reese. I’d be risking my licence if I give out unprescribed medication. Why was that man struck off?”
“I’ll give them to Logan,” I reassure her. “Don’t worry.”
“You won’t answer my questions,” she cries, her words laced with frustration.
I sigh heavily. “It won’t help even if I do.”
She shakes her head, her eyes full of sadness. “I need to shower,” she mutters, heading for the stairs.
I nod, following. “I’ll sit with Logan.”
I sleep in the chair in Logan’s room. Xanthe doesn’t come to find me, so I assume it’s what she wants. When the sun rises, I give Logan his meds then go downstairs, where I find her at the kitchen table. She looks exhausted, and I offer a sympathetic smile which she doesn’t return. I don’t blame her. She associates me with Donnie.
“I need to go see my Pres,” I tell her. “I’ve given Logan his medication. The doctor is calling in around nine. I should be back for then.”
“Right,” she mutters.
I sigh. “I’m going to find a solution, I promise.”
Axel sent a message last night to say church would be at eight. He’s getting strict on shit like that, and if anyone shows late, he adds extra onto subs.
I take my seat and wait for everyone else to join. When we’re all settled, Axel bangs the gavel. “Thought we should all check in,” he begins. “Pit, you start.”
Pit leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Not much going on, Pres. We’re shifting the containers quickly, clearing the backlog.”
“That’s what I like to hear. I knew putting you in that role was a good idea.” He turns to Cash. “Books looking good?”
Cash nods. “Yep. Checked in with the VP earlier this month, and he’s happy,” he says, looking at Grizz for confirmation, who nods.
“Dare I say it, but this is the quietest shit’s been in a long time,” says Axel, grinning. “I could get used to it.” He turns to me. “But I know you’re about to fuck it all up.”
I sigh heavily. “Donnie is involved in some shit,” I say. “I don’t know what exactly, but it’s bringing trouble to his club. In the early hours this morning, one of his men took a beating. He was stabbed.”
“Fuck. Is he okay?” asks Nyx.
“I think he’ll be okay. Donnie knew some doctor, although I’m not sure how legit he actually was. But I’m worried about Xanthe.”
Axel groans. “Fucking women, every time,” he mutters, and we all turn to him. “That’s what brings us trouble,” he explains. “Me and Lex, Grizz and Luna, Fletch and Gemma.”
“Two of those women were cops,” Grizz points out. “And Luna didn’t bring anywhere near as much drama as Lexi.”
“Hit me with it,” says Axel, ignoring Grizz.
“Donnie has become obsessed with Xanthe,” I say. “She’s terrified. And now, he’s sending injured men her way to patch up. Chevy made a veiled threat last night, said something about her being in too deep with criminals to refuse to help.”
“I’d tell you ignore it,” says Axel, “but I can already feel Coop glaring at me.” A few of the men snigger, knowing Cooper always seems to advocate for women, maybe because his daughter is Lexi and he raised her alone. “What do you want us to do?”
I shrug. “I don’t know, Pres. I can’t leave her in the trenches.”
“Because you want her?” asks Grizz.
I smirk. “Maybe. We have history, but if I go there right now, he’ll come for me.”
Nyx smirks. “Rumour has it, you already went there.”
I glare at Fletch, who laughs. “And he almost caught me,” I admit. “I don’t want to give him an excuse to make this a competition.”
“Maybe he’ll get bored?” suggests Duke.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m hoping,” I reply. “He ordered we take Logan to her place to get patched up. She could lose her nursing licence if they carry on using her like that. I’m gonna try to get through to Donnie, but if shit goes south, I need to know you have my back,” I say, fixing Axel with a stare.
“Of course, brother, you don’t even have to ask. You know I only agreed to Donnie’s proposal to teach you a lesson,” he says. “I can pull you, and we’ll deal with the fallout.”
I shake my head. “Nah, I won’t know what’s going on if you do that.”
“Alright.” He nods. “Stay safe. And if you think she’s in danger at any point, bring her to the clubhouse. He’d never come looking for her here, unless he knows you two have a past?”
I shake my head. “He doesn’t know.”
My mobile rings, and I see Donnie’s name. “Speak of the devil.” I stand and head out of church, answering the call.
“Pick me up from the club. I need to see Logan and find out who the fuck brought trouble.” He disconnects, and I immediately call Xanthe, who answers straight away.
“Donnie wants me to bring him over to yours so he can quiz Logan.”
“I thought he might make an appearance,” she mutters.
“It’s your chance to reiterate the message you sent him.”
“He didn’t even reply. I don’t know if he saw it.”
“He would have. We’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”
The first thing I notice when we arrive back at Xanthe’s is the huge bouquet of white roses on the kitchen worktop. Donnie doesn’t bother addressing her. Instead, he heads upstairs to where Logan is resting.
I follow and linger in the doorway as Donnie takes a seat by the bed. “Who was it?” I roll my eyes. He doesn’t even bother to ask how Logan is. Axel can be a hard-faced fucker, but he always takes care of us over anything.
“Just kids,” says Logan.
“Bullshit,” spits Donnie, pushing to his feet. “You’re telling me kids took you down, Logan? You!”
“Boss, they took me by surprise. There were at least ten of them, all masked-up.”
“So, how do you know they were kids?” he demands.
Logan sighs. “I guess I don’t for sure, but they seemed like kids. They were scrappy.”
“Who do you think it was?” I ask, and Donnie turns to me, arching a brow. “Well, you seem sure it ain’t kids, so do you have an idea?”
“If I did, I’m not likely to discuss it with you,” he spits then heads downstairs.
Xanthe
I brace myself the second I hear his footsteps coming down the stairs. Donnie stalks into the kitchen with purpose, kicking the door closed behind him so Fury can’t follow, and then he pulls me into his arms, holding me tightly. I stiffen, keeping my arms at my sides.
“I missed you,” he whispers, pressing his lips to the side of my head.
“Donnie,” I whisper, trying to pull away.
“It’s been a rough few hours,” he adds, still not releasing me.
I manage to get my hands between us, and I push hard, forcing him to release me. “I texted you,” I state, moving around the worktop to keep space between us.
He looks mildly irritated and places his hands on the counter, fixing me with a stern stare. “We talked about this already.”
“Yes, but you’re not listening to me, Donnie. You brought a man to my house. He’s sleeping in my fucking spare room.”
“Don’t get hysterical,” he mutters, rolling his eyes.
“Look, you need to leave, and you need to take that man with you.”
“That’s not possible,” he says, pulling out his mobile and staring down at it.
“It’s not a fucking request, Donnie. Get him out, and don’t bother me again or I will call the police.”
He throws his mobile on the worktop and rounds it so quick, I almost fall onto my backside trying to back away from him. His hand dashes out, grabbing my throat, and as if I weigh nothing, he lifts me and slams me onto the table. I wince as pain radiates through me, shock causing me to freeze up. I stare wide-eyed as he sneers down at me.
“Hey, Donnie, stop, stop.” I realise Fury is in the room trying to prise Donnie’s hand from my neck. He eventually releases me, and I cough violently, rolling onto my side. “Jesus, what the fuck are you doing?”
“You’re right,” says Donnie, calmly. He holds out his hand for me to take, but I stare at it with contempt until he retracts it. “I’m sorry. I overreacted.”
“I want him to leave,” I say firmly, glaring at Fury. “Now.”
Donnie’s anger returns. He switches so quick, I feel sick with panic. Narrowing his eyes, he snaps, “You want Logan gone?”
“Yes,” I say clearly.
He turns on his heel and marches towards the stairs. Fury winces. “Oh fuck,” he whispers, rushing after Donnie.
I go to the bottom of the stairs, confused as I hear Fury trying desperately to talk Donnie down. “Boss, not like this,” he hisses. “Come on, relax. She’s just upset.”
I take the stairs two at a time, furious he’s answering for me. I’m not some unhinged, upset woman who’ll get over this. I want him out of my life and Logan out of my house. I stop in the doorway, my mouth falling open at the sight of Donnie kneeling over Logan, who is gurgling with blood pouring from his mouth. It takes a second for my brain to engage, but when it does, I scream. Donnie laughs—actually laughs—before pushing off the bed and tucking his knife away.
“What did you do?” I cry, grabbing a clean sheet from the end of the bed and pressing it over the gaping wound on Logan’s neck. “Oh my god.” Usually, I’m calm in emergencies and know exactly what to do. But as Logan stares into my eyes, the life draining from him, I’m suddenly lost. I have no idea how to stop this man dying. He takes one last gasp and then falls silent. “No,” I cry desperately. “No, no, no.”
“Xanthe, it’s too late,” Fury whispers gently, and then his hands grip my wrists and remove them from Logan’s neck. “He’s gone.”
“No,” I repeat, staring at Logan’s open eyes. “Oh god.”
“Shall we talk downstairs?” asks Donnie, smiling before leaving the room.
I begin to hyperventilate. I can’t seem to fill my lungs with air, and as they tighten, I gasp harder. “Relax,” says Fury, bending slightly at the knee to look me in the eye. “It’s okay,” he adds. “Breathe slow, in through the nose and out through the mouth.”
I scowl, shoving him from me and crouching down to rest my forehead on my knees. I squeeze my eyes closed and focus on my breathing. How fucking dare he tell me to relax? Relax! I’ve just gotten the man killed. I lift my head and look directly at Logan’s hand hanging limply off the edge of the bed. “Oh god,” I whisper again. “What have I done?”
“Look, we have to go downstairs or things will just get worse,” says Fury.
“Worse?” I hiss, pushing to my feet. “He just fucking killed a man in my spare room. How can it get any worse?” I storm from the room and head downstairs to find Donnie waiting patiently in the kitchen.
“Have you had time to process?” he asks casually.
I don’t think, acting clearly on anger as I pull my hand back and slap him hard. He doesn’t react. Instead, he smiles again while rubbing his cheek. “What do you want?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest and avoiding his evil eyes.
“Candice Bowman . . . she’s your boss, right?” He moves closer to me, taking my chin between his thumb and finger and tilting my head so we’re eye-to-eye. “I can be patient, Xanthe, until you’re ready. But for now, I’ll settle with your help.”
“Help?” I repeat, still reeling from how he knows my boss’s name.
“Friday and Saturday nights are fight nights at the club. You’ll patch the fighters up.”
“But I can’t do that,” I begin, frowning.
“I’ve arranged for your shifts to work around when I require you.”
I gasp. “What?”
“Like I’ve said, I know people.”
“What people? Why the hell are you messing with my job?” I pull my chin free and glance back at Fury lingering in the doorway. He looks angry. I can tell by the subtle way his jaw is clenched and how the vein in his forehead is protruding a little. “Do something,” I demand angrily.
“He works for me, Xanthe. No one is going to rescue you,” sneers Donnie. I pull my glare away from Fury and focus back on the monster before me. “You have no choice but to agree.” He looks happy, and I wonder how I never noticed the way his eyes twinkle with an evil glint. Maybe because his true happiness is causing others misery.
“What did I ever do to you?” I whisper sadly.
His hand cups the back of my head, and he slams his mouth against mine. I push against his chest, but he only holds me firmer until I stop struggling. When he finally pulls away, I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand. “Disgusting,” I hiss.
He chuckles. “I’ll be in touch.”
He heads for the door, and my heart slams hard in my chest. I rush after him, grabbing his arm until he’s forced to slow. “Wait,” I cry. “What about the . . . the body upstairs?”
His grin only widens. “Fury will help you.” And then he shrugs free and leaves. I stare after him, waiting until the door slams closed before I slowly turn to Fury.
“What the fuck just happened?”