Chapter Eight
G od. Damn.
It felt like her ribs, head, and arms had been ripped from her body, thrown into a blender until pulverized, then glued back onto her body in the wrong places.
Shit.
What happened?
Blinking, Liz tried to focus on the off-white blur overhead.
Ugh.
She knew what those were—a staple in every hospital in Las Vegas. Drop ceiling tiles.
Why am I—
She gasped, jerking to sit up. Pain slammed through her head, vibrating down her chest and into her ribs, and her right arm was heavy and throbbing.
The Russians…they came into her house….
“Erika!” she cried, then whimpered at the agony pounding through her body.
The sounds of the door slamming open made her peel her eyes open.
“Shit, Liz,” a massive, familiar blob cursed, coming closer to the bed. “Calm down, you’re safe.”
“I’m not worried about me—”
“Erika is safe,” Trouble drawled softly. His large, warm hand on her shoulder pressed her back into the bed, and she pinched her eyes shut against the pain and glaring overhead lights. “She’s with Skathi and Fae at Fae and Hawk’s house. There’s no place safer than with Skathi...and Fae is excited about watching Brave with Erika. Something about the movie score, or somethin’.”
Trouble sounded confused, but it made perfect sense to Liz, who knew that Fae, who was actually world-wide folk phenomena, Aoibheal, loved anything to do with Celtic music. The woman spoke and sang in Gaelic, which was amazing on its own, but add in the fact that she also played all her own instruments, and she became a fucking powerhouse.
Humming, Liz gingerly laid her head back against the flat hospital pillow. If Erika was with Skathi, she was definitely safe. Safer than safe. And at least Erika wasn’t at the clubhouse where she could see or hear many mentally scarring things.
Her heart thudding, Liz fought the burgeoning tears—she’d been beaten. Men had come into her home, terrified her child, told her that her partner was criminal scum, and then beat her as a motherfucking “message.”
“Is she okay?” she asked, worried that her little girl was shaken by what happened.
She opened her eyes at his deep, timorous chuckle.
Trouble crossed his arms and smirked at her—the fucker.
“She’s a brave little girl. She called Odin, and we came. We got there not long after. She was scared, but as soon as Odin mentioned a sleepover, she seemed fine.”
Liz smiled despite the pain in her face from that asshole goon’s fists. She probably looked like a human plum—all purple and swollen.
“She’s asked ‘bout you, misses you. Worried ‘bout her mama ….”
At that word, Liz knew he knew.
Shit.
Liz tried to raise her right arm again, and cursed. She glared down at the appendage and sighed at the cast.
“They crushed your ulna and wrist. The orthopedic surgeon removed the shards of bone and inserted a steel rod to assist in healing. You’ll always set off metal detectors, but you should make a full recovery,” Trouble reported, his voice flat. “You also have a concussion from the lump on your head, a few bruised ribs, a bruised kidney, and a lot of other bruises to your body and face.”
Damn, those goons had no mercy. They sent such an effective “message”, she’d be pissing blood for a week.
“How long have I been here?” she asked, her worry for Erika rising. Her daughter had never been without her for longer than twelve hours.
“Two days. The only reason they could get you into surgery on your arm so quickly was because the orthopedist knew you and pulled a few strings.”
She huffed, her face throbbing when she tried to smile. “Dr. Faison. I did my orthopedics rotation with him. He’s a great guy. His husband’s a bit of a diva, though.” She snickered, then hissed at the pain pulsing through her ribs.
As if his mind were somewhere else and he hadn’t heard her speaking, he asked, “Need more pain meds?” He looked both tense and distracted, leaning his hip against the side of the bed.
“No,” she sighed. “I want to see my daughter. I know you said she’s safe with Skathi, but Erika has never been apart from me this long. She’s going to be worried, and I can’t imagine that finding me on the floor and having to call a perfect stranger didn’t scare the shit out of her.”
Trouble sighed, his expression hardening. “I’ll text Odin to bring her by. He wants to talk to you, find out what the fuck happened.”
She gave a curt nod, then regretted it. Fuck, she couldn’t move a damn muscle without her body screaming about it.
“Are we going to talk about it?” he asked, his voice taut.
She arched an eyebrow and pursed her lips. “About what? When Odin gets here, I’ll tell you about what happened at the house. Those assholes didn’t scare me into silence. I’ll tell you everything they told me, and then you can go do whatever your club does to women beating goons.” Like hell would she become the battered woman statistic and keep the information about her attackers to herself. Was it dangerous to blab about the fucking Russian Bratva? Hell yes, it was! Was it even more dangerous to act like nothing happened? Yes. And so, she was going to suck up her terror, wipe away the tears of shame and humiliation, and get down on her motherfucking knees and beg Odin and Trouble to help her, if necessary. She would do anything for her daughter, even humble herself in front of the man who’d flattened her ten years ago.
Trouble clenched his jaw, his green eyes flashing. “Oh, we will deal with them. No worries ‘bout that, darlin’.” He pushed off the bed and dropped his arms from his chest. Slowly, tension roiling through his muscles, he leaned over her until his face was inches from hers. She could smell the acridness of the hospital coffee on his breath. “But that’s not what I was talkin’ ‘bout, and you know it.”
She swallowed, suddenly overcome by the situation. Yeah, she knew that staying in Vegas and raising her daughter came with the risk of Trouble discovering that he fathered a kid, but she never thought this was how he’d find out. Hell, she’d literally lived in the same town as him and hadn’t run into him a single time in ten years, not since Odin tracked her down and offered her the club doctor job. She’d have lived happily ever after, never seeing Erik Skaarsen again, and she had been, until Odin waved money in her face. She knew then that the countdown to Erika’s reveal had begun, she’d just hoped—ridiculous, really—to hold on to the secret for another nine years, when Erika would take off for college.
But now, he knew. And she was sure he wanted answers. She internally rolled her eyes. She’d give him answers, and he wouldn’t like them.
Suck it up. Nothing’s changed. He’s still an asshole, and she still needs you.
“Erika…she’s mine.” It was a statement. There was no missing the glaring similarities between father and daughter. She saw them every day, and every day they pained her. She loved her daughter more than life, and once upon a time, she’d loved Erika’s father, too. So seeing his eyes, seeing his smile, running her fingers through hair so much like his…it was bittersweet.
“Yes,” she admitted, flatly.
His gaze hardened, his expression going from ice to fire in a blink. His jaw muscles twitching with the force of his grinding teeth.
“And you weren’t going to tell me?” he spat, his voice chilling.
Oh, so he was angry? Well, fuck that. He had no right to be angry!
“No, I wasn’t,” she admitted, crossing her uninjured arm over her chest to grab her shoulder. She lifted her chin, daring him to rant at her, because she didn’t give a shit. Yeah, she hid their baby from him, and she never—not once—felt a single second of guilt about it.
His eyes widened, surprised at her answer, as if he couldn’t fathom that she’d be honest.
“You were planning to keep my daughter a secret from me?” he asked, that voice of his, once again, chilling. And if she were a lesser woman, she’d have pulled back, muttered an apology, and kissed his high, tight ass. But she wasn’t a lesser woman. She’d been honed by difficulties, heartbreak, disappointment, abandonment, taking hit after hit after hit, and she kept going. And this was just another hit she had to take. For Erika.
“Yes,” she replied. “If I hadn’t been attacked, you never would have known about her.”
Recoiling as if she’d slapped him, he stared at her, his icy eyes darkening. His face went blank, his body tense, every rock-hard muscle in his massive frame locking in place. He was bracing.
For a long moment, he just stared at her. Finally, he asked the one question she knew was burning a hole in his guts. “Why?”
She didn’t even have time to open her mouth and answer him because the door to the room swung open and Odin swaggered in. Alone.
His penetrating eyes snagged on Trouble standing as still and menacing as a gargoyle statue beside the bed, then slid to Liz lying in the bed, no doubt looking about as good as a drop-kicked pepperoni pizza.
Ignoring the glare from Trouble, Odin strode toward the other side of the bed, offering Liz a slight smile.
“It’s good to see you awake, Doc,” he rumbled in that deep voice of his. She offered him a smile back.
“Good to be awake—nope, that’s a lie. It hurts like a bitch,” she rasped, the pain along her side throbbing at her effort to sit up straight.
“Shit,” Trouble cursed, turning and striding from the room.
Both watching him leave, she turned to Odin just as Odin turned to her.
He arched an eyebrow at her, and she mimicked the movement. He had questions, she had answers, and she needed his help.
Closing her eyes, she leaned back and sighed.
God, she was a fucking mess.
“How’s Erika?” she asked once the urge to bawl passed. Crying would do nothing for her except exacerbate her already pounding headache.
Odin grunted, then a blindingly wide grin spread over his face. “She’s doing well—Skathi is having a blast with her, Doc. That little girl is really something else. Skathi admits even she can’t keep up with the little whirlwind, but she’s ready to pop, so I’m making her take it easy when she can.”
“I’m sorry about this, Odin—”
He grunted, his eyes turning glinty. “This isn’t your fault, Doc. Someone fucked with the wrong woman, and now we’ve got to make things right again. Fae and Hawk are gonna keep her at their place, but Skathi wanted to help—she really likes Erika. She’s a sweet girl, but damn, does she know how to work those dimples.” He grinned, his eyes twinkling. For a big man who could crack skulls, he was all squishy on the inside for females.
Ignoring the pain in her face, Liz grinned back, knowing full well just how charming her little girl could be.
“She does, doesn’t she?” Her smile fell. “Has she asked about what happened?” God, she missed her daughter, but she knew Erika was better off not seeing her mother lying in a hospital bed, covered in bandages. The overwhelming need to see her, hold her, fill her nostrils with the smell of her, was overridden by the need to make sure that her precious treasure remained safe and secure.
It is probably better that Odin didn’t bring her. At least until the swelling in her face went down.
“Yeah, and we told her what we could. She knows you were hurt, saw it with her own eyes, but she wants to see you now. She’s askin’ about you, wants to see you.” Odin’s expression softened, which he’d been doing a lot since he’d gotten together with Skathi. The woman had turned the once hard Viking warrior into a big ol’ softie—even though the woman herself was a badass. “I wanted to bring her by to see you, but Skathi mentioned you might not be up to it yet. And didn’t want her here in case Benson came by.”
“Yeah,” she croaked. “It’s probably best she not see me quite yet.” Liz squeezed her eyes shut against the burn of tears, opening them when the door opened again, admitting a harried-looking nurse, and a scowling Trouble.
“Let’s just check those vitals, then we can administer some pain meds,” the nurse said, not even bothering to introduce herself. Trouble must’ve really flustered her.
Liz waited while the nurse did her thing, then added pain meds to the IV before scurrying out of the room with a, “The doctor will be here in a few,” tossed over her shoulder. Liz glared at Trouble, knowing he was the reason the nurse was doing a half-assed job. Liz wasn’t surprised by the woman’s reactions, though. At first sight, Trouble was a mountain of rugged, tattooed ferocity. He was sex walking, menace talking, and danger stalking. But underneath all that, she’d seen the man. She’d fallen in love with that man, and the only good thing to come out of that experience was her daughter.
“She tell you anythin’ yet?” Trouble asked Odin without taking his gaze off Liz.
“We were getting to it,” Odin replied, a snap of authority in his tone. He was telling Trouble to back the fuck off without actually saying the words, which almost made Liz smirk. Almost.
Wanting to get the conversation over with so she could wallow in the euphoria of painlessness, she lilted her head toward Odin, meeting his gaze.
“When should I expect a visit from the LVPD?” she asked, knowing she’d probably have to lie to them. She hated the idea that she couldn’t trust the police, but she also knew the Bratva weren’t everyday criminals. They needed someone like the Savage Raiders to deal with them.
Odin huffed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Detective Benson called to say he’d be by later this afternoon to check on you. He was giving me a heads up…he knows the Raiders are involved and he wants to keep things as smooth as possible between us.”
“He also knows that you and Erika are club, so if he steps out of line, I’ll rip out his throat,” Trouble interjected, making Liz’s heart screech to a halt.
She and Erika were club? What the hell did that mean, and why had he sounded so…possessive?
Liz shook off the question beating at her mind and glanced at Odin.
“I remember everything that happened, and I’ll tell you everything.”
Liz swallowed down the sudden lump of fear in her throat. God, this was getting more and more complicated. But what else could she do but trust Odin…and Trouble? Running and hiding wasn’t safe nor sustainable. She had a life in Vegas, and Erika deserved to live and thrive in security with the things she knew and loved. She deserved a childhood like Liz had…before her parents died, one where she was cherished and adored. Living in motels or shelters, always looking over her shoulder, never knowing who she could trust, where her next meal would come from, or if she’d have to watch her mother be violated again…that wasn’t a life for anyone let alone Erika.
No, they’d stay in Vegas, and Liz would hope that Odin and his brothers would save her and Erika from Danil Oblek.
Trouble was a shit boyfriend, but from what she’d seen and heard over the last two years, she knew he took his job as club VP seriously. He’d been there when Skathi was threatened, Tessa was kidnapped by cartel psychos, when Fae was kidnapped by a deranged stalker, and when Tessa was kidnapped, again, by her pervert step-dad and his child-rapist sycophants. When it came down to it, Trouble could be depended on when things got bloody. It was just a shame he was a cheating asshole as well.
Liz came out of her thoughts when Odin spoke.
“Do you know who it was and what they wanted?” Odin asked, patience in his tone—which she appreciated.
She tried to nod, but her head suddenly felt like a bowling ball…made of clouds.
Damn fucking good drugs!
“It was a man named Danil Oblek, and his two goons. From their tats and mannerisms, I’d say they were Bratva.”
Trouble growled, but she fought the urge to turn toward him. “What do you know about the Bratva? There a lot of organized crime in Stanford?”
“How the hell should I know?” she snapped, still facing Odin, the pain meds having made their way into her brain so the energy to move was depleted. “Look, you asked me who it was, and I told you. They were there looking for my business partner. Dr. Lyle Pace. Apparently, the asshole stole their money.”
“The doc is tied up with the Bratva?” he asked, his voice sharpening. He’d moved over to stand next to Odin, so she couldn’t continue ignoring his stupid, pretty face.
Liz watched as the ugliness of suspicion darkened his features.
“No,” she growled before he could open his mouth and say something she’d have to kill him for. “I have no idea what Lyle was doing with the Bratva. I had no clue—no goddamn clue, that Lyle was involved in something so dangerous.”
“How could you not? You two work together, how could you miss something as big as him working with the Bratva?”
“Fuck you, Trouble. You think I willingly involved myself with Russian crime lords? You think I’m such a shitty mom, that I’d put my daughter into the hands of dangerous criminals? I had nothing to do with Lyle’s bullshit. The man was a brilliant doctor, a man I respected—I wouldn’t have taken on the partnership otherwise.” There went her pain meds buzz.
Odin cleared his throat, drawing all gazes to him.
“You had no suspicions that something was wrong? Was he acting differently? Doing anything that seemed shady?” he inquired, looking every inch the MC president. Authority, strength, “get shit done,” written into every molecule of his presence.
“Well…over the last few months he’s been a bit…occupied with money matters, which was strange considering what a mess the clinic’s financials are,” she slurred, the morphine buzz returning with a vengeance. “You’d think…a man who was worried about running a for-profit medical clinic…would be a little more focused on making sure the invoicing, p-payroll, and expend-expenditures were…fl-flawless.”
Odin checked his watch and grunted. “Benson’ll be here soon.”
“You want me to talk to him…but I’m assuming I need to tell the LVPD something different,” Liz realized despite her brain slowly… slowly losing the will to brain.
Odin nodded but Trouble remained silently brooding near the door. “You can tell him everything except who did it and why. Keep it vague. No need to get the messy hands of the cops all up in our shit, especially since the Bratva probably have a few of them on payroll.”
Suddenly exhausted beyond all measure, Liz closed her eyes. She could hear Odin and Trouble talking, trying to ask her more questions, but she just…couldn’t…think….
Finally, the lights went out, and she crashed.