Chapter 41
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
FREAK
My hands won’t stop shaking, and my breathing is shallow.
I know it’s a sign of an adrenaline drop.
I’d been trying to prepare myself to find that Italian bastard, Alongi, to have killed Trixie, maybe buried her body where she’d never be found, leaving me with no closure and set to worry about her forever.
I’d hardly dared hope we’d find her alive.
Even now, I can’t believe a Mafia underboss travelled well over two thousand miles with only a trusted soldato for company.
He’d been that sure of finding her alone and arrogant enough to think he would be able to take her.
He certainly hadn’t factored in the involvement of the Kings, or that we’d sworn to protect her, whether she was club property or mine. We never abandon one of our own.
I’m pacing, anxiously awaiting Dr. Robson, who’s one of the surgeons Bronwyn works with at the hospital, and who she somehow managed to persuade to come to the club to treat Trixie, to emerge from the medical room we’d constructed at the clubhouse.
It’s one of our latest additions after we’d been forced to rebuild.
This is the first time we’ve had to make use of it.
The doctor had apparently agreed, albeit reluctantly, not for the money we were prepared to pay him, but for the story she’d told – the truth that Trixie’s life depended on there being no official record of her.
Alongi could no longer pose any risk, but we couldn’t discount the possibility that the Mafia might still be searching for her, especially when their underboss didn’t return to New York.
We’ll find out who knew he was coming to Arizona when we have our talk with him.
Currently, he’s awaiting that pleasure, strung up to the rafters in the barn hidden away at the back of the club property.
But he can wait. None of us are going anywhere until we get a medical assessment of Trixie’s condition.
I go from one side of the clubroom to the other, back, then repeat. My fists open and shut. Brothers stand or sit around me, the same concern that’s on mine echoed on all their faces. But there’s no comfort in shared misery.
When I hear a door opening, and the doctor appears, I rush over. “How is she, Doc?”
His lips purse as he grimaces, never a good sign.
“Her ankle is either badly sprained or possibly broken. Without an X-ray, I can’t be sure.
She’s got a probable concussion. There are contusions on her back where she was hit in the kidneys, and footprints on her stomach where she was kicked.
” He pauses and meets my eyes. “She could have internal bleeding. I’ve not been able to check.
I’ve fixed a catheter for now, and there’s no blood in her urine, so hopefully, there was no serious damage to her kidneys.
Without taking her to the hospital, I’ve done all I can.
Her heart rate and breathing seem steady, and on palpation I can find no swelling in her stomach.
But that doesn’t rule out a slow bleed that could kill her.
” He waits a beat, then adds, “She hasn’t been sexually violated. ”
I breathe out. At least that’s something to be thankful for.
“As I told you when I arrived, she really should be in the hospital where we have the equipment to diagnose the extent of her injuries and monitor her properly.”
“The Mafia could be after her, Doc.” He nods, acknowledging he already knows that. “We know her ex-husband found her. We don’t know who else he might have disclosed her location to. Until we know that, she’s safer here than in the hospital.”
His lips tighten again. “I’m aware. And I found evidence of historic broken bones and scarring, so I can guess what she originally ran from.
” He sighs. “I’ve strapped her ankle and put up an IV to deliver a painkiller, antibiotics, and fluids.
” He pauses and looks me straight in the eye.
“I’ve skipped out of my shift, citing a family emergency, but I’ve got to get back.
Without specialist equipment, we won’t know what we’re working with until she wakes up.
” Examining his face, there’s an “if” in there that he doesn’t voice.
Trixie might not wake up if her internal injuries are too severe.
“Bronwyn is going to monitor her. She knows what to look for.”
I remember something, lost in the depths of time and from the bottom of my memories, about her injuries from five years ago. When she first came to the club, she seemed to be forever popping tablets.
“She doesn’t have a spleen.”
He rolls his eyes as if that’s just one more reason she needs more than a doc, a nurse, and an amateur medical room.
“I saw the scar and suspected. Bronwyn knows to watch closely for any signs of infection. I have already prescribed antibiotics preemptively, so she should be good for now. But at the sign of a raised temperature, I need to know.” He shakes his head as if he doesn’t understand why he’s doing this.
“Just promise me one thing.” He pauses and waits.
“Anything,” I vow.
“If Bronwyn has concerns, you get her to the hospital, risks be damned. There, at least she’d have a chance.”
My lips press together. Am I wrong to insist she gets treatment here at the club? Am I overestimating the risk of the Mafia finding her? Are they even looking, or did Alongi act completely on his own? Would her death be on me for not getting her the best medical attention?
I’m to blame however this goes. Instead of killing the fucking bitch, I let Toni go.
And how did she repay me for her freedom?
She sold Trixie out to the Mafia. I can only hope any payment was worth it, knowing she won’t live long enough to enjoy it.
Tyrant will have no mercy on her, and if he needs encouragement, all I’ll need to do is send him a picture of how Trix looks.
He’ll have to extract information before he kills her.
We need to know how much she told the fucking Mafia about the club, and whether they’re likely to come calling.
Not that we’d be worried. We’d be more than a match for them. After the attack by the MDMC, we’ve got fortified gates and a reinforced steel fence all around the compound. Our windows are bulletproof glass. At least Toni never learned how well we can defend ourselves.
“Well?” Belatedly, I realise the doc is waiting for an answer.
“I agree,” I tell him. “I’ll do the best for my woman, but the best right now is for her to stay with us. If her condition worsens, we’ll take the risk of bringing her in.”
“You call for the paramedics. If she goes downhill, time will be of the essence.”
I raise my chin. “Understood.”
He copies my action, then, bag in hand, turns to go.
Now that he’s finished treating her, I’m not going to be kept apart from my old lady.
I’d been pushed out earlier, being told I was in the way, but now nothing is going to stop me.
As I cross the clubroom, brothers parting to make my way easier, out of the side of my eye, I see Bullseye stop the doctor, presumably to offer the gratitude that I’d forgotten to acknowledge, or give him some recompense for his time and trouble this evening.
At the medical room door, I hesitate, my mind flashing back to how I’d found her.
While I had wanted nothing more than to pull her into my arms and comfort her, she was so badly injured that I didn’t know where I could touch without hurting her.
When she’d lost consciousness, for a moment, I’d thought she was dead.
She could still die, a voice in the back of my head reminds me. I silence it. Not on my watch. We’ve got a whole lifetime to live together.
My hand shakes as I push down the handle and open the door. The Delta operator inside me, even the enforcer, is missing. As I step inside, I become simply a man worried sick about his woman.
Ignoring Bronwyn, who’s fussing about, taking Trixie’s pulse, applying a blood pressure monitor, and checking the medication is running through the IV as it’s meant to, my focus is solely on my woman.
Even though I’d seen the extent of her injuries with my own eyes, my heart breaks as I see her again, as if part of me hoped that the doctor had worked miracles.
She’s been cleaned up, but her eyes are still blackened, and her face so pale her skin’s almost translucent.
She’s lying so still, I have to check for myself that her chest is still rising and falling.
There’s a scraping sound. Bronwyn touches my arm and points to the chair she’s just drawn up for me. “Sit, Freak. You can hold her hand. Talk to her. She might not show any reaction, but it’s possible she can hear your voice.”
Words stick in my throat. Then I manage to croak out, “I don’t know what to say.” I’ve never been much of a talker, especially in a one-sided conversation.
Placing her hand on my shoulder, she says softly, “Tell her how much you love her, Freak. Tell her the man who hurt her will never get near her again. Talk about Ace, and the future you’re going to have together.
About the new house that you’re building.
Anything. All she needs is to hear your voice. ”
Suddenly, I doubt I was right to keep her here and not let her go to the hospital, where she could get full medical attention. I raise my eyes to Bronwyn. “You’ll keep checking her? Watch for any sign of deterioration?”
Instead of getting riled that I’m telling her about the job she’s trained for, she squeezes her fingers that are still on my shoulder. “I know what I’m doing, Freak. If I have the slightest worry, I’ll call the paramedics in.”
“When will she wake up? Is the medication keeping her under?”
Moving away from me to perform her checks again, Bronwyn shakes her head. “She’s not on any sedative. She’s unconscious as her body needs time to heal. She’ll wake up when she’s ready.”