Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
SHORT
Upsetting Bronwyn was never my intention, though from the way she raced out of my room like a bat out of hell suggested I had.
Fuck it. I wish I’d kept my mouth shut. I fucking know I was right in that her father dominated and abused her, but I should have approached the subject in a far different way.
Hell, I almost spilled that I’d killed my own father.
My words had clearly touched a chord within her.
I wish she’d have taken me up on my offer and spoken to me as a friend. God knows, I could have used one when I was younger. Maybe I’d have escaped without having to commit patricide.
Suddenly, my breath sharpens, and it’s nothing to do with the wound left by the Mojave Devils.
It’s the thought she might worry I’d broach the subject with her father.
That’s the last fucking thing I’d do. One thing my past has taught me is that abusers never want to be called out.
I wish I’d told her I wouldn’t say a word to him and explained how it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve bitten my tongue in order not to call him out.
What if I’m barking up the totally wrong tree?
What if she idolises her father and can’t see anything wrong with his behaviour?
I know sometimes the abused stay with their abusers for years, as it’s what’s familiar.
Too many women – and a few men – are killed because they stayed in a relationship, making excuses for their partner.
Could Bronwyn really be blind to the way he treats her?
Damn it, I’m going to have to tread carefully next time I see her. Although I think I’m right in projecting my experience onto hers, I should be more subtle if I want her to open up.
Shaking my head, I wonder why her circumstances are any of my concern. She’s a nice girl. She shouldn’t be near a club of rough bikers. She’s a good girl who needs to find a man to look after her. To take her innocence, give her babies, and good standing in the community.
I’m not even sexually attracted to her. She’s not my type. I like my sex rough with a woman who knows how to take it. Deflowering a virgin was never on my bingo card. I’ve not got it in me to be a gentle lover. Still, I’d like to help her – even if it’s just because I hate her fucking father.
Forgoing a shower, I give myself a sponge wash around my bandages, then dress awkwardly, finding loose pants so as not to put pressure on the wound on my thigh.
I head to the clubroom. Holding the banister as I make my way down the stairs as fuck, my leg hurts when I put too much weight on it.
Entering the clubroom, the aroma of freshly cooked bacon guides my way.
Meal times have changed since Saint claimed Pippa.
Where once it was every man for himself, if they didn’t want to eat the shit served up by the prospects, she’s taken charge and has kicked the sweet butts into gear, and got them cooking for us.
In the beginning, she was supervising and instructing.
Now they seem to have gotten a handle on preparing simple meals by themselves.
And us brothers are all the better for it.
Men are supposed to live on their stomachs, are they not?
Reaching the ground floor, I expect to be greeted with grins and possibly backslaps, celebrating that I’m mobile and sufficiently recovered to emerge from my bed.
Instead, I’m met by sullen looks. Rattler, Words and Winchester go so far as to turn their backs.
Paint shakes his head as though disappointed in me.
Stalker growls, but it’s Saint who heads my way.
He approaches menacingly, like a lion stalking its prey. His blazing eyes burn into me for a second before he lets loose. “What the fuck did you do to Bronwyn? I fuckin’ told you to stay away, and to keep your filthy fingers to yourself.” His hands curl into fists which is never a good sign.
The brothers who’d shunned me earlier now swing around, showing an interest in my response.
Holding up my palms to face him, I shake my head, bewildered. “What the fuck are you talking about? I never touched her. She came, changed my bandages, and went.”
“Not falling for that, Short,” my VP snaps. “She came running down those stairs like the demons of hell were chasing her. You must have done or said something to upset her.”
I knew I’d upset her, but not to that extent.
Keeping my hands in a defensive pose, I try to defuse the situation and come clean.
“I heard you loud and fuckin’ clear, VP.
Though I didn’t need to hear the message.
I know Bronwyn’s not for me.” I pause and glare around the room, adding, “Or for any of us. But her fuckin’ father sent her to me today as he couldn’t be bothered to get out of bed, while he knew his daughter had a full day at the hospital ahead.
” I shrug. “He’s fuckin’ using her. We all know that.
” I swallow, then admit, “Maybe I mentioned I thought she was being used as his unpaid slave.”
“Enough!” I startle at the loud voice from behind me, then swing around too fast. The stitches pull at my chest, so I place my palm over the pain as if to hold the needlework together.
It’s Prez who’s bellowed out, and he’s now got all our attention.
His eyes land on me before sweeping his gaze over everyone who’s around.
“I don’t need to remind you, we’re fucking lucky having Dr. Maximilian Custer indebted to us.
Though his morals might be suspect, his medical skills aren’t in question.
He comes out, mends our wounds and infections, and even treats fucking STDs.
If we didn’t have him on speed dial, some of us would have already died, or be languishing in jail after going to the hospital.
” Now he turns to me, his eyes moving down to where my hand covers my damaged lung, “And not even your injuries, Short, are worth us cutting the doc loose from our club. Or losing him because you couldn’t keep your dick in your fuckin’ pants. ”
“Wasn’t like that, Prez,” I protest.
“Or causing problems between him and his daughter,” he continues, as if I hadn’t said a word.
Again, I show the palms of my hands. “I said something that hit too close to home.” Suddenly, I’m sick to death of taking all the verbal abuse when I was only trying to help.
“It’s fuckin’ clear Doc’s taking advantage of her.
What?” I spin around, well, move slowly in a circle to ensure I don’t lose my breath, and eye all of my brothers who are present.
“We’re going to ignore that he’s making her life a misery, just to ensure we get medical help? ”
“That’s exactly what we’re going to fuckin’ do,” Bullseye roars, so hard spittle flies out of his mouth. “The man’s allowed to keep his own house in order—”
“And if he’s hitting her? Hurting her? Or mentally abusing her at the very least? You’re saying that’s none of our fuckin’ business?”
“I’m saying exactly that!” Prez’s chest heaves, showing how riled he is.
“And show some respect, Short. If you weren’t already injured, you’d be feeling my fists for questioning my word.
” His eyes blaze, but after staring at me for a moment, some of the creases disappear from his brow.
“Look, I know your history, and I can see how you’d sympathise with what you think is her situation.
But she’s not a teenager. She’s a young woman who’s nearing the completion of her final qualifications.
One more year, she can go anywhere. As an adult, no one, not even Doc, can force her to stay, and as a qualified nurse, she’ll be able to support herself.
All I’m asking is that you don’t rock the boat. ”
“Doubt Doc will take kindly to you criticising his parenting.” Freak gets a glare from me. He doesn’t seem very worried, and truthfully, there’s not much I can do to him in my current physical state. “If you’re right about the abuse, what do you think he’ll do if you confront him?”
The fight goes out of me as I reply through gritted teeth, “Take it out on her.”
Bullseye clamps his hand on my shoulder.
“Look, if it makes you feel better, I can drop a word in his ear, that we expect the organ grinder to attend us, and not his fuckin’ monkey.
For the amount we’re paying him, he should be the one who’s here and not her.
Might free up her time, make it easier on her so she’s not working all hours. ”
“I’m not criticising her medical skills.” If anything, I think she’s more competent and far gentler than her father.
Nodding, Bullseye appreciates my point. “Agreed. And that wouldn’t be the point I’d be making. Just that it’s him who picks up the retainer, and the extortionate bills he submits each time he’s called in.” His eyes settle on me. “That’s my proposal. Do you want me to talk to him?”
Fuck. I’ll be the loser in this scenario.
I’d rather be treated by her and not have his tainted hands all over me.
But to insist at this point would only make Saint suspicious that I’ve got a personal interest in the little nurse.
I can see him waiting, head cocked, listening intently for my response.
I’ve only one answer I can give. “I think that might make her life easier. At least she won’t have to make daily visits to the club.” Without any instruction from my brain, my fists clench. I’d offered to be her friend. Now I might never see her again.
“Settled,” Prez states.
Interest in the conversation dies, and my brothers fade away, ready to get on with their days.
“Hey, Short? You up for some breakfast?” I turn at Trixie’s voice.