Eighteen
F uck me… why did I wait? Why did I hold back, and act like such a bitch? Did I just forget how fucking amazing it feels, to come… oh fuck …
I pulled back, and eased out of Camille as she lay there, smiling up at me.
“What did I just do? I… fuck!” My first thought was horror, because we didn’t use protection, and I had no idea if she was on birth control, and if it was even safe for me coming inside her with what might be wrong with me, but then I saw the blood, and felt like the biggest bastard in the world.
“Did I hurt you? Camille, fucking hell, did I hurt you?”
Her face creased into a frown, and she shifted up onto her elbows to stare at me.
“What the hell? Of course you didn’t, Stitch. You could have been rougher, and I’d still have been okay, so… Stitch? Oh god, you’re bleeding.”
I backed up, staggering a few steps.
“What the fuck?”
She was right. The blood was coming from me, not her, and there wasn’t a lot, but it was there. I lunged around, grabbing my clothes, and trying to get the fuck out before I got more blood on her, or embarrassed myself even further.
“Stitch, stop! What the hell are you running for?”
I heard her following me, and spun to stop her.
“Stop! Don’t come any closer to me, and please, for god’s sake, get that blood off you. I don’t… I… fuck me. Why is this happening?”
I’d been able to ignore the stinging pain down there, but now it was starting to take over my brain. I was bleeding down there. Was it another stage of what was happening to me? Was it another symptom? What should I do?
Camille dropped to her knees, and tugged my hands away from hiding my junk, my clothes still bunded in my hands.
“Stitch… I don’t know how to say this without sounding ironic, but you’ve torn stitches. That’s all it is, hey, look at me. This is fixable, okay? It’s my fault for making you go harder. You have a doctor at the club, don’t you?”
I swallowed hard, nodding at her. “Is his number in your phone? Stitch, answer me!”
Somehow I regained my faculties enough to answer her, and unlock my phone, and then she was talking to someone.
“I’m sorry, I know it’s early, but Stitch needs help. He’s at my place right now. Yes… no, he needs the club doctor. Should I bring him straight there?”
I lunged at her for the phone, because suddenly I was back to not wanting anyone to know my business. It was becoming too real again.
“Stop it, dammit!” She edged out of my way again. “He tore his stitches… he’s bleeding.”
Then she let out a giggle, and covered her mouth.
“Well, obviously we fucked, Reacher. How else do you think he’d tear them?”
My god! I snatched the phone and held it to my ear. The nosy bastard was out of line.
“Ignore her. Everything’s fine.”
Reacher didn’t even hesitate. “Get her to drive you here right now, Stitch, that’s a fucking order. Doc will be ready and waiting.”
I felt like a little more of my pride died just then.
“Please don’t… I’ll go to the hospital or something. I don’t want him looking at me there.”
Reacher cursed. “You have ten minutes, or I’m bringing the entire club to take a fucking look, got it?”
The call ended there, and I yelled out a frustrated curse, throwing the phone at the wall with a deafening crash.
Camille had ducked as I threw it, even though she was never at risk, and now she was blinking at me, struck silent, and shocked by my outburst. She backed up a few steps and hurried for her room, with me trailing after her, with my clothes still bundled up in front of my damn junk.
“Camille, girl… I’m sorry, you know I wouldn’t hurt you, right?”
She dressed in a rush, and finally, warily, looked at me.
“No, Stitch, I don’t know that at all. I don’t know anything about you, do I? But I am driving you to the clubhouse asap, so I’d prefer it if you were dressed first.” She edged past me and moved out of the room at a fast pace. Fuck me, if anyone needed a how-to guide on how to completely obliterate a good thing, I could probably write one. With no other possible course of action, I carefully dressed again, and followed her out to her car.
Cammy
D riving him to the clubhouse was both the thing I most wanted to do and the one I least wanted. I wanted him to get help, and make sure he got treatment, before anything became infected or something, but I really didn’t want him in my car.
That outburst back there, that sudden red hot blast of anger; that was terrifying, and had taken me back to a place I didn’t want to ever go again. The place where I was a victim, and I wouldn’t be one again. Not even for him.
“Camille, please talk to me. I’m sorry, I promise I didn’t mean to scare you.”
He sounded reasonable now, decent and kind even, but isn’t that just how they worm their way in? I’m a nice guy, honest. I’d never hurt you, I’d never scare you . And then it turns. It goes from ‘I care’ and ‘I’m nice’ to ‘don’t talk back at me, bitch’, and then the bruises. Then the brutality, and the terror, and the ‘I’ll kill you rather than let you leave’. My stomach was churning as I thought things over. He knew where I lived, where I worked, who I hung out with. He was already too close, and I didn’t know how to keep him away from me.
When his hand caught mine, I gasped and pulled away. He didn’t try again, but he kept trying to talk to me for the short journey to the clubhouse. At the gate, a guy in a vest that said ‘Prospect’ waved me straight in, and Reacher was waiting by the clubhouse door. Thank god he was there. I was out of the car practically before I’d even turned off the engine.
“Camille, wait!”
“Keep him away from me.” I pushed past Reacher and headed inside, and as I did it, I was wondering why the hell I was running into the club, when I should be running away from it. I guess instinctively I wanted Lissa, but I didn’t even know which room she lived in.
I got as far as the bar area and stopped, my heart thudding painfully in my chest. I didn’t know where to go, except that I was pretty sure I’d have to leave. Not just the clubhouse, not just the building. Leave town. Leave everything I’d come to know and love.
A hand on my shoulder made me scream, and I lunged away in a panic.
“Easy, love. It’s just me.” It was Has-Been, and he looked confused, and a little worried, I think.
“You don’t wanna go with Stitch?”
I shook my head vehemently, eying the door at the end of the building. I should be leaving, running now, while there was a chance to get away.
“Jesus, love, you look like you’ve seen a ghost, what happened?”
I felt trapped in my panic, something I hadn’t felt in forever, ever since I… ever since then. I’d been strong, I’d been able to hide away, and now it was all back again, and I was her again; afraid, lost, jumpy, weak.
“Tommy, you want to get a glass of water for the lovely lady, please?”
“Everything okay?” Another biker joined Has-Been, but I couldn’t even focus on him, I couldn’t focus on anything around me.
“Cammy? Jesus, what the fuck happened? I’ll get Lissa.” The other biker left, and all I could focus on was the fact that there was only one biker in my way again now.
“I have to go.”
Has-Been reached a hand out, and I flinched back.
“The fuck? Cammy, girl, just breathe for me. Lissa’s coming down. You trust Lissa, yeah?”
Lissa. Lissa could get me out. She could help me get away.