Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
SHORT
“Go the fuck away,” I shout as knocking at the door awakens me. “What fuckin’ time is it anyway?” I grumble under my breath as I lazily stretch out a hand to capture my phone and pull it toward me. Nine a.m. Too early for me.
The knocking comes again, and I try to ignore it, but then my door bursts open, and in comes Saint. His first action is to go to the window, pull up the blind, and let a dazzling beam of sunshine fall on my face.
Throwing my arm over my eyes, I rasp, “What the fuck are you doing?”
Showing no sympathy, he just says, “Prez wants a meeting. Get your lazy ass up and dressed.”
“Now?”
“No, next week,” Saint says sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Why the fuck d’you think I’m here knocking your door down?”
I deserved that. “You know why?”
“Get up and come down, and you’ll find out.” Swinging around, Saint leaves me.
“Shut the fuckin’ door, will you?” But he’s long gone by the time the words leave my mouth.
Now curiosity has a hold of me, I stretch, fart, yawn, then pull myself out from the comfort of the sheets. Sniffing the air, I can smell sex and make a mental note to get a prospect to change my bed.
I run through the shower, chuck on a fresh t-shirt and boxers, and slide into yesterday’s pants, which still have a couple of days’ wear in them.
Then I pull on some socks, slide into my boots, and finally settle my cut over my shoulders.
Dressed, I grin. Only a short time ago, such activities would have left me panting for breath.
Descending to the clubroom, I find it empty, but follow my nose to the kitchen where Trixie quickly pours a coffee for me and hands me a bacon sandwich. “They’re waiting for you in church,” she tells me. Thanking her quickly, I change the direction of my feet.
I’m wondering why church has been called and why no one had even sent me a text about it.
Pausing, I take my phone from my pocket and check, but no, there aren’t any new notifications.
I don’t put it away, ready to place it in the box that’s left outside of our meetings, as no electronics are allowed in the room while we talk business, then I see it’s empty.
Creasing my eyes, wondering whether there’s been an exception made for today, I hesitate, then slide my phone back into my pants.
Opening the door, I expect the room to be full, but it’s mostly empty, except for Bullseye, who’s tapping his fingers impatiently, Saint, who turns and fixes me with an unreadable expression as I walk in, Freak, who looks just the same scary fucker as always, and Tempest, who doesn’t hide his glare.
All the top officers, and little old me. Looks like I’m in for a dressing down, but fuck knows what about. I can’t help it that Bronwyn came running to me last night.
Instead of sitting, I stand by the end of the table, my hands behind me, my back soldier-style straight.
“For fuck’s sake, come sit down,” Prez states impatiently.
When I take a place beside Freak, the enforcer snarls under his breath, “Asshole.”
Maybe I have been one, but I guess that’s what I’m about to find out. “What’s this all about?”
Prez wastes no time getting down to business. “Your visitor yesterday evening.”
Deep lines form on my forehead. “Bronwyn?”
“Was there anyone else?” Saint drawls. I shoot him my finger.
Prez confirms it’s her he’s talking about by giving a sharp dip of his head.
Then he leans forward, elbows on the table, chin resting on his hands, his eyes blazing so brightly I feel like one step away from bursting into flames.
“The thing is, Short, and this goes back weeks. Doc appeared of his own volition to treat you the day after we had our conversation. Trixie took over changing your bandages, and he had no need to send his daughter again.” Lifting his head, he lets his hands move out to each side in an I don’t know gesture.
“I didn’t see the point in making waves, so I never discussed the issue with him. ”
Saint clears his throat, casting a look toward Prez, who sits back as if giving him leave to speak. “So, was it Bronwyn who came up with that shit, or was it you, Short? Or was the whole thing some sort of fiction? In which case, who laid hands on her?”
“Well, it wasn’t me,” I bark, half-standing from my seat.
“Sit the fuck down!” Prez roars. “I just want to get to the truth here. The VP reckons there might be something going on between you and her, on your part at least. And if there is, a stop’s got to be put to it.”
My mouth gapes open. “Ain’t nothing going on between me and that little girl, Prez. I’ll swear that on my fuckin’ patch. She’s not for me, and fuck knows I’m not right for her.” I roll my eyes as I add, “I know the importance of Doc’s contribution to the club.”
“If it was Doc who hit her, it could be because he didn’t like you consorting with her.”
I round on Tempest. “I’m not fuckin’ consorting or anything with her.
And if Doc was under that impression, though fuck knows why, surely, he’d come after me and not her.
” Trying to swallow down my vehemence, I answer Prez’s question that had seemed to get lost. “As to whether she told me that reason, fuck.” I draw my hands down my face.
“I can’t rightly remember. It might have been me who assumed that you’d had a conversation that Doc took offence to, which was the reason for him taking his hands to her.
But Prez, she didn’t contradict what I’d said, and certainly ran with it. ”
Freak snorts. “So, we could have another problem. She’s run back to Daddy, saying the Kings don’t think Doc has been doing his job.”
“Which was what Prez was going to say to him,” I growl.
“But I’d have done it diplomatically.” Bullseye’s eyes harden.
“Fuck it.” I slam my hand on the table. “The point is, Doc hit her. She was dazed and bleeding when she came to me for help. There’s no reason to think she’s gone bleating back to him. She’s more likely to have crept in trying not to be noticed.”
“If it wasn’t for Prez’s mythical talk with him, why did Doc use fists on her?” Saint asks mildly. I raise my chin in his direction, acknowledging he’s trying to defuse the situation.
But I can’t answer. “I don’t have any fuckin’ idea.”
“Why did she come to you, Short?”
I shift awkwardly. “Prez, you know some of my history. I know fucked-up families, and I felt some kind of kinship with her. We got to talking back when she was changing my dressings, and I said I’d listen if she ever wanted a friendly ear.
” Chuckling softly, I add, “Girl acted embarrassed and closed right up. I was shocked as hell she came last night and took me up on my offer.” Soberly, I let them in on my thoughts.
“She obviously had nowhere else to go, no one she could turn to.” In for a penny…
“I tried to get her to stay here last night. I was worried about what else Doc might do. But she said she had to get home. So, I gave my number to her in case he went for her again.” My teeth grind together.
“I know what it’s like when a parent thinks they own you, and I know how far they can go. ”
“Fuck, Short.” I don’t know how to take Bullseye’s exclamation, as more than a few seconds tick by without him saying another word.
Eventually, he gets his head together. “Bronwyn’s a good kid.
You all know my thoughts. I’ve made it clear that everyone is hands off, and even minds their language while she’s here.
But as much as that’s because of her, it’s also a courtesy to Doc, as it’s him we need.
Despite him not being allowed to practise, he’s an experienced doctor, and not just some ex-Army medic like a lot of other chapters have to rely on. We can’t afford to upset him.”
I expected this. “We ignore what he did to his daughter?”
Beside me, Freak shrugs. He’s either been thinking overnight, or Prez has already had words with him. “It’s family business. We should stay out of it.”
“Fuck that,” Tempest growls.
After flicking his long hair back over his shoulder, Saint shakes his head, resulting in the strands he’s just tidied falling over his face again.
Impatiently brushing hair out of his eyes, he looks straight at me.
“If it wasn’t anything to do with us, I’d like to know how Bronwyn apparently stepped out of line.
May not agree with his form of discipline, but there’s a chance Doc had right on his side. ”
As though he knows me better than I do myself, Freak’s hand shoots out to anchor me before I can leave my chair to lunge over the table at Tempest. “And what the fuck could that girl do to deserve punishment like that?”
“That’s exactly what we don’t know.” Bullseye levels his stare at each of us one by one. “I know I’m not alone in feeling uncomfortable at any man hitting on someone smaller and far weaker than themselves. As far as we’re concerned, women and kids are out of bounds.”
“Unless it’s Pippa.” Freak’s eyes focus on Saint, and he waggles his finger. “I’m going to get her one day.”
Saint snorts. “Like you fuckin’ could. Every time you’ve tried, she’s laid you out on your back. And any revenge you’re seeking is going to have to wait.” His hand hovers over his stomach and traces a ball. “Pregnant, remember?”
Freak’s completely unfazed. Making the sign of the cross, he utters, “Serves you right if you have a baby girl.”
Placing his hand over his chest, Saint’s eyes go wide. “Don’t you fuckin’ put a curse on me like that.”
Tempest chuckles, and even I have to smile.
To be honest, I doubt any of us would ever have dreamed of the man-whore Saint settling down.
He’d earned his road name as his character was completely antithetical to what a pious and upstanding person should be.
While careful to steer clear of any woman who might want to tame him, Saint had had more than his fair share of one-night stands.
For him to end up a one-woman man? I, for one, could never have believed it.
But they say when the mighty fall, they fall hard, and Pippa certainly had proved his downfall.
Okay, he’d only had two options – love her or kill her – but the softer side, none of us had even seen in him, had won out.
While it’s a standing joke that having a girl is enough to turn any man’s hair grey, I suspect Saint would be happy whatever gender the baby turned out to be.
Speaking of kids, it reminds me. “One more thing we didn’t know. Doc’s got a son. He never mentioned him.”
“Never mentioned his family at all.” Saint shakes his head. “Wanting to be a private man is something we can’t hold against him.”
“Bron seemed to indicate she was frightened he’d start on him if she didn’t go back. Kid is only eight.”
“An afterthought, or a mistake?” Freak wonders aloud.
A loud sigh from Bullseye gets us back on track.
“I can’t fuckin’ believe we’re sitting here wasting time, worrying about how Doc treats his daughter, but here we are.
” He pauses to glare at me for a moment.
“And I, for one, want to find out if Bronwyn squealed and put us in the shit with her dad.” He then grimaces and barks a laugh.
“And yeah, okay, I’m also curious as to what that pretty young nurse did to turn her dad violent.
Been quiet around here for a couple of days, so wouldn’t mind taking a ride to find out. ”
I just stare at him. “You going to just roll up and demand answers?”
“Well, I’m gonna be a bit more subtle about it, but yeah, that’s the plan.” There’s something about Bullseye’s smile that makes me nervous. “Of course, you’re coming with me, Short.”
“Me too,” Freak throws in, grinning maniacally.
“Count me in,” Tempest and Saint say simultaneously.
“Yeah.” Prez nods slowly. “Might need some backup to get this plan in place.”
“What fuckin’ plan?” I growl.
“One in which you have a starring role,” Bullseye states ominously. “Looks like you’re going to show off how accident-prone you are, and somehow end up needing emergency attention, right near Doc’s house.”
As my mouth drops open, Freak jumps in, clearly relishing what Bullseye has laid out. “He could come off his bike.”
“Firstly,” I object. “I ain’t no stunt rider, and secondly, my bike’s only just back on the road.”
“Rideable, yes,” Prez says casually. “But the scrapes and dents haven’t yet been knocked out.”
I’m not liking this suggestion. Nothing is appealing about it at all. “To convince Doc, I’d have to have a real injury.”
Bullseye nods. “Maybe a bad case of road rash? Nothing permanent or disabling.”
“No way, no how.” I’m not prepared to entertain the idea. I suppose some people can manage the way they fall off a bike, but not me. My skills lie keeping it upright.
“Got some sympathy with Short,” Saint reenters the conversation. “How about one of us knocks him out, gives him a concussion, and just say he’s come off his bike.”
“I’ll hit him,” Freak’s quick to volunteer.
Prez stares at Freak then nods. “That will work. Of course, you don’t actually have to give him a concussion, just make it look like you could have.” He turns that unemotional stare on to me again. “You up to take a little pain to help the girl you’re so interested in?”
“Not interested in her,” I growl but fuck me if I don’t find myself agreeing. What’s a fist to the face if it gets us answers on what exactly is going on in Doc’s house? I’d rather it were me who was punched any day if it could save Bronwyn from taking a similar punishment again.