Chapter 28 Wren
WREN
It’s been a week, and I’m finally moving around more normally. The pain in my shoulder is still intense most of the time, but I’m no longer hunched nor relying on the cocktail Doc has made for me.
My husband gifted me a new burner phone, which I mostly use to play games, stalk the people from my former life on social media, and check the news. There’s not much to see.
Midafternoon has me sulking in my room, strumming my violin as it sits in its open case. I haven’t been able to play, and I won’t for a while. Notes and melodies still call to me, making my fingers itch with the desire to tuck my baby under my chin and play until I’ve worked through everything.
Being shot is the least of it all. It’s the way my men hover around me now. Watching, waiting for me to need their help. Especially Saint. The small murmurs of wife in my hair, against my neck, before or after a kiss, it’s going to wreck me completely.
Something akin to love is worming its way under my ribs to my closely protected heart. Not that I can hide my feelings. Taking a bullet for him is a declaration in itself.
But saying the words… I’m not there yet. Not ready to be so vulnerable.
Besides, it’s not just Saint creating a space for himself in my heart. The breakfasts in bed and foot rubs from Doc in the mornings have become a special routine that has me feeling like my old self—or a better version of her.
And Sin…God that man. He doesn’t say much, but he takes any chance he gets to pull me somewhere safe and quiet to simply hold me.
It’s a softness I didn’t know he had. I don’t think he knew it either.
At times, he’ll tuck me into the table in the back corner and play poker or Rummy with me when I’m bored.
My fingers pluck at the D string, and its resonating hum almost makes me miss the vibration of my burner phone on the bed.
It’s lit up with an unknown number. Who on earth could have it?
Heart beating fast, I pick it up, swipe the screen, and lift the speaker to my ear.
Static at first—no, rustling—as a long breath is let loose. “Wren?”
My mother’s voice is a vice around my chest.
“Mom?”
“Oh, honey. I’ve been so worried.”
“I’m fine, Mom. How’d you get this number?” How could she have?
“Don’t worry about that. You know we have our ways. Listen, sweet girl. I need you to come meet me. Today. Right now.”
“Mom, I can’t—”
“It’s about your brother.”
Panic settles in my middle. What has he gotten himself into now? “Where?”
“The dollar store off the highway. Fifteen miles from the club.”
How my mother knows where the club is…the fact that my father must have told her. Or Robbie. The overwhelm from my old life flares back, and survival mode hits. I need to find a way to get to my mom. But how?
I can’t ask my men. They’re too focused on the impending confrontation with Grant. I don’t need them worrying even more about me. And I can’t have them telling me all the reasons this isn’t a good idea.
I can’t give them a reason to tell me no.
I’ll be asking for forgiveness after this, I’m sure.
“Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I’m able.”
The line goes dead, and I dress the best I can in one of Saint’s shirts, my cut-off shorts, some boots, and Saint’s vest.
Let’s see how well I can pull this off. Upstairs, I do my best to act normal, winking at Pixie behind the bar and slipping into the kitchen to grab a few bites of fruit. Then I head out back, scanning the yard. Taking in who’s coming in and who’s going out.
Prospects run errands all day, and one is idling on his bike, checking his phone before he heads off. Perfect.
Sauntering over to him with all the authority I can muster—which is much more than it used to be, I close in, and the guy jumps, startled.
“Remind me of your name, prospect.” My voice comes off haughty, the same kind of tone I had to use in a room full of rich, entitled people.
“Buzz, ma’am.” He shoves his phone in his vest pocket and doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands.
“You’re heading out? East or west?”
“W-west.” His eyes go wide before he tacks on, “Ma’am.”
Like I’ll punish him for the lack of respect. I smile softly. “Good. I need a lift. Just up the road to the dollar store. That’s on your way, right?”
“Yes, ma’am. But—”
“Good. Let’s go.” I don’t wait for his answer before I climb onto the motorcycle behind him. My arms cinch around his waist, and I give him a tap on the shoulder to tell him I’m ready to go.
He only hesitates for a second before the bike is shooting forward, and we’re on the road. I breathe a sigh of relief against the leather at his back. I can’t believe that worked. That I was able to pull it off.
Hiding myself is a trick I used when I was young. Getting myself out of tough situations, sure, side-stepping the truth to keep myself safe, but lying? I’ve never been very good at that.
I’m probably still not so great at it, but when I get to the dollar store and slide off the back of Buzz’s bike with a small wince, I narrow my eyes at the way he’s about to protest something. I point a lone finger at him, and his mouth snaps shut, mortified.
“Go on and do your business. I’ll find my own way back.” My dismissal has him driving away before I make it in the door.
Maybe not my best idea, but I’ll figure it out once I’ve met with my mother. Once I’ve learned what Robbie has gotten himself into. Once I figure out how I can help.
Inside, I grab a basket, meandering down the aisles, pretending to shop until I find my mother in front of the greeting cards.
She’s looking over her shoulder. Suspicious. She’s always been afraid of my father. It must have taken a lot for her to show up.
The moment she sees me, her eyes go wide, assessing me. “You look good. I don’t care for the vest, or how much leg you’re showing, but you look good. Happy.”
I nod. “Happiest I’ve ever been.”
Her smile is sad, and I flinch when she hugs me, her grip too tight on my arm.
“Are you hurt?” she asks.
“I got shot.”
Mom’s eyes widen in horror and she turns ten shades whiter. Her voice is low enough to hiss. “You got shot?”
Sighing, I nod again, turning her with a gentle touch on her arm. “I’m fine. Don’t attract attention.”
She’s struggling with it, her eyes darting around before she falls into step beside me. Drifting slowly down the next aisle, I give her the time to come to terms with it. She doesn’t have long, but still, I don’t push her.
Finally, her shoulders pull back, and her spine straightens. “Your brother, he’s still wrapped up in the business. And things are getting worse. You know who is getting worse.”
I cringe because I know she means Grant.
Mom pulls a package from her purse. It’s my small stuffed bunny from when I was a baby. But a charm hangs around its neck that wasn’t there before.
She presses it into my hands, imploring me to be smart, like she used to when Dad would have one of his days.
Stay quiet. Stay hidden. Stay safe.
I nod.
“You’re sure you’re safe?”
“I am.”
She grabs me a second time, palm against my cheek for the briefest touch before it’s gone. “I’m so sorry, honey.”
And she’s speeding off after she releases me, nearly jogging out the door.
I tuck the bunny against me and grab a few small treats and check out with the twenty I snagged from Saint’s dresser drawer. I don’t think he’ll care, but now I need to find a way home.
Pulling my phone out, I hover my thumb over his number. Who to call? Which of my three men would be the least amount of pissed off about this?
Sighing, I know it’s a crap shoot. All of them are going to be pissed. Would Judge tattle? Probably. Maybe Reaper? He’s got a soft spot for me because his daughter is my age.
But fuck, I don’t want to get him in trouble.
As I step out of the dollar store entrance, strong arms wrap around my middle, lifting me off my feet. A hand covers my mouth, smothering my scream as it breaks free from my lungs.
Oh no. Not again.