10. Chapter 9
Clark – A Week Later
“Are you comfortable, Mr. Dary?” I ask the grumpy sixty-two-year-old, and the scowl that he gives me is enough to scare even a brother away. But he doesn’t scare me and if I knew I could get away with it, I would stab him with a scalpel.
The man is a murderer. I know I shouldn’t judge because of who the brothers are and what they do—you know, killing traitors and all that.
But this man raped and killed a fifteen-year-old boy he’d been talking to online.
He tried to groom him, like a sick fuck.
Honestly, trying my hardest to be polite is difficult enough.
The only reason I’m in here, taking his blood pressure and ensuring his catheter is emptied so we can run tests, is that he scared the other nursing assistants.
“Do you even care?” he snaps with heat as he tries to move his right hand that is handcuffed to the bed like he wants to try and grab hold of me, but I don’t flinch and continue to empty his catheter, causing the prison guard to raise a brow at me.
I smile and say, “It is in my duty of care to ensure you get the utmost care possible, and besides, when you finally die, you’ll rot in hell.”
The guard snorts while Mr. Dary sneers, “You’re only acting tough because I'm chained to this bed!”
I cap off his catheter and stand before I give the man my whole attention, and I state, “Or, hear me out, my big brother is the secretary of the Carnage MC so I’ve met scarier men than you,” the man freezes while his guard grins wide as I lean forward and I sneer, “and my husband is the VP!”
Okay, fair enough I’ve filed for divorce, and by the lack of response from said husband, he’s agreeing with it. I think that is what is breaking me even more because stupidly I was hoping he’d fight for me, that he’d show me the feelings weren’t one-sided, but this man doesn’t know that.
“How is Cage doing?” the guard asks as I straighten from a pale-looking inmate, and I give the man a smile, not surprised with the fact that he knows Cage, and admit, “He’s the president, has a wife, an adorable little girl he named Angela, and has a little boy on the way.”
The guard physically relaxes as he confirms, “He’s healing?” and I nod and say, “He is, and he’s happy.”
The guard gives me a soft smile, and I smile in return before I curl my lip at the man in the bed, before turning and then walking out with his urine for the nurses to test for drugs.
He was attacked yesterday, stabbed in the back, and the man was hoping to be placed in the hospital for a few weeks. He was pissed off when he was told it was superficial, and he’d just have to wear a catheter for a few weeks instead, which he can have in prison where he will be returning tomorrow.
He’s currently on death row and was probably hoping to be able to escape.
"Just because you’re a club brat doesn’t mean you’re safe from me," he says, snapping out of his stupor as I open the door.
I turn to him, smile sweetly, and say, "Honey, I could probably have a knife in your neck before you even move a muscle to try and hurt me!"
His throat visibly bobs as he swallows as his guard chuckles beside him, and I wave as I walk out of the room.
“Oh, Clark, I have no idea how you are not scared of that man,” Amber, the head nurse, gasps as she quickly gloves up and takes the urine sample from me, and I smile slightly.
“I’m a club brat,” I repeat the nasty man's words, and her kind blue eyes widen slightly before she nods.
“You’re used to scary,” she hums, and I chuckle slightly, even if it is forced.
“Something like that,” I admit before I say, “I’m going to go wash my hands, then go on my break.”
“Oh yes, of course, go, go, you’ve worked extremely hard these past few months,” she says before she goes to the lab.
I flinch before I mutter, “Not by choice…”
Dr. Bitch, aka Dr. Lavish, is still trying to put more on my schedule and that isn’t going to work with my new childcare needs. Unlike what I said to Amber, who is an absolute darling, I’m off to see the chief—well, after I wash my hands.
I will be leaving in time to pick Willow up this time. I’m hoping she will be in a better mood this afternoon, every day this week, I’ve had nothing but attitude and tears.
This morning, after I picked her up from Drew, where she had spent the night with her father, she told me she hated me and wanted to live with her daddy.
Apparently, she overheard my mother cursing at my brother, who had gone to see Cage and refused to let her in after she followed him before I arrived to pick Willow up.
I’ve broken our family, that’s what Willow said—words from my mom—just because I filed for divorce. I’m finally putting myself first and refusing to be told to stay in a one-sided marriage while the other side starts a family with someone else.
I know she doesn’t like the apartment. I know change can be hard sometimes. Even though it broke my heart just as much as leaving Trick did, I know she didn’t mean it and I’m hoping she’ll settle.
Is it pathetic that I’m heartbroken after filing for divorce? That I didn’t realize my feelings until it was too late? Yeah it is but it is also for the best.
Or, that is what I keep telling myself anyway…
***
I sigh as I carefully shut the office door forty minutes later, the tension in my shoulders slowly releasing.
After explaining the situation with Dr. Lavish, the threats she’s made, which have all been made on CCTV, so it wasn’t just my word against hers, Chief decided to put me on a fixed schedule.
Monday to Friday, I’ll work eight until two thirty, and I’ll have to work one Sunday a month. The nurse in charge will assure my workload stays within that time limit, so I’ll be home with Willow more. During school holidays, I’m to work the weekends, and he’ll make sure Trick is off.
Dr. Bitch will be put on probation for her behavior, something no fifth-year surgical resident wants.
I tried to object when he mentioned that she’d no longer be working with Trick, before I could tell him we were getting divorced, his phone rang, and he dismissed me.
He said he would be calling Dr. Bitch to his office this afternoon for overstepping her authority and abusing her position.
Man, I’d love to be a fly on the wall for that conversation.
Chuckling a little, I get off the elevator and walk towards the ER, freezing when I see Trick storming towards me with determination, and a lump forms as my heart pounds.
He’s wearing his cut instead of a doctor's coat, which could only mean he’s either here with his girlfriend, because let’s face it, she isn’t his mistress anymore, or he’s here to confront me.
“Hey, Trick,” Dr. Bitch purrs as she tries to intercept him, but he shoves her hand away just as the hospital speakers announce, “Dr. Lavish to HR, Dr. Lavish to HR,” and I smirk at the confusion that etches her features.
“We need to talk,” Trick says as he stops before me, and I completely lock up, my humor with what’s about to happen to Dr. Bitch completely gone.
For a whole week, I haven’t heard from him, and I haven’t seen him, not even at work. Belle or Drew has been the in-between for us, and while yes, I knew this was coming when I realized he wasn’t going to contest the divorce, I didn’t think he’d do it at work.
“I can’t, I’m working,” I say, then go to walk around him, but a thousand little sparks rush up my arm as he shocks me and grabs it before he pulls me towards the storage closet, and I gasp in shock, being shoved inside, stumbling as Trick slams the door shut.
What the hell?
I spin, ready to shout at him, but he speaks before I can and demands, “I want fucking answers, and I want them now!”
Okay, so maybe he was giving me a week so he could catch me off guard.
Jackass, alpha hole.
“I never wanted to marry you, Trick, and vice versa, so what answers are there that you need? I’m only correcting something that never should have happened,” I say as calmly as I can, despite the fact that I’m trembling being this close to him, despite the fact that my heart is currently bleeding with pain.
Being this close brings up the fact that I assaulted him and physically hurt him, it brings up heartache when I know he’ll never be mine.
When he doesn’t say anything, I take a deep breath and calmly remind him, “You have a mistress, Trick, one who has now claimed she is pregnant, and I know you feel obligated to protect me because of Willow, but I don’t need your protection, I never did.
I already had it because of who my father and brother are, your mistress doesn’t have that, so just sign the papers, and we can try to co-parent. ”
He chuckles darkly and snaps, “If you think I’m signing anything, then you have another thing coming, buttercup. I’ve already torn the papers up.”
What?
“Why?” I exasperate, “You don’t love me, Trick, you have a mistress!”
Trick’s face morphs from determination to pure anger within seconds before he completely takes me off guard as he snaps, “I don’t have a mistress, I haven’t fucked anyone since the night I raped you!”
Shock renders me speechless as he growls and punches the wall before he storms out, and my tears fall instantly while one word echoes loud enough that I’m beginning to feel deaf.
Rape?
***
“Hi, Mama,” Willow whispers four and a half hours later as she walks over to me with less excitement than the other children, and I sigh, getting ready for another battle.
After Trick walked out, no, stormed out, I spent the remainder of my break crying to Belle, who had to calm me down while telling my brother to stay clear of me after he threatened to come to the hospital, hearing my breakdown.
He thinks he raped me.
Never mind the fact he’d just admitted he hasn’t been with anyone else since me, that he basically allowed me to believe he was sleeping around, but he believes he raped me…
He didn’t, and no, it isn’t lost on me that I thought I assaulted him, but I guess for us both, it’s the natural reaction because we were both drugged.
Crouching down when Willow gets close, I take in her sad little features, and I grab her hands. “Are you okay, little dancer?” I ask with concern, and she sniffles, “I was mean to you…”
Ah crap.
“It’s okay, I understand you didn’t mean what you said, I understand you were upset,” I whisper, and I wipe away some of her tears that break my heart.
Everything is a mess, Trick, her, me, my family.
“I’m sorry, Mama,” she cries and throws herself into my arms, and I sigh as I pick her up and stand before walking over to the car.
“It’s okay,” I murmur against her head before I ask, “Do you want to go see daddy?”
She nods into my neck, and I hold her tighter before rounding the car.
As much as having this conversation without Willow in the house would be better, with how she is, I don’t think she can leave my side right now. So, it looks like I’m going to have to get her to go to her room while I have a little conversation with her father.
I won’t allow him to believe that he raped me, not now, not ever, even if we get a divorce, and yes, I say if because the ass tore up the papers, I won’t let him believe he raped me.