Chapter 40
CHAPTER FORTY
AMES
Ican’t believe what Malachi put Flynn through. A fucking bomb? I’d wanted to kill him for the damage he’d inflicted, but now I wish I was able to dig him up and kill him all over again. I hope he’s rotting in hell. From what Flynn described, it was mental torture at its best.
Descending the stairs, I expect the clubroom to be empty, it’s early afternoon after all. But there’s a prospect behind the bar who comes running out as soon as he sees me, and someone sitting there having a coffee. It’s Bullseye, I notice, as the prospect comes storming toward me.
“You should go back upstairs. You can’t leave the clubhouse.”
Flynn had expected me to try to leave. And while my first instinct is to be annoyed he obviously hadn’t trusted me, my second realises he was looking out for my safety. I’d have been stupid when Volkov could be hanging around, just waiting for a chance to take me.
After that talk with Trixie, I’d already decided to give him another chance, and even more now he’d shown me how vulnerable he can be. “I’m getting some ice for Rattler. He’s hurting.”
“Fetch the ice, Prospect. Darlin’, come sit with me while he gets it.” Bullseye voices his orders. When I approach him, he waits for me to hoist myself on the bar stool. “Want a drink?”
I shudder as memories of this morning’s hangover assail me. “No,” I respond fast.
He shrugs as if it’s no matter to him. “How’s Rat doing?”
“Poorly.” I see no need to hide anything. “He had a terrible nightmare, woke up thrashing. Did his injuries no favours.” I pause, gather some courage, then tell him, “He dreamed the bomb had exploded, and taken you and the others with you out.”
“Fuck,” he breathes out. “He told you how your brother set him up?”
“Half-brother,” I correct. And at Bullseye’s raised brow, I confirm, “Yeah, he told me about that, and after his nightmare, well all the details kind of spewed out.” I press my lips together.
“I think Rattler’s going to need some help to get over this.
Malachi fucked with his head. Suggested he should act the hero and kill himself before you got there.
He thinks he’s a coward that he didn’t.”
Bullseye’s eyes widen. “Fuck.” Again the word comes out on exhaled air. “I can see how that would mess with him.”
“He’ll need therapy and probably physio too.
” I’m on a roll now. Angry that he and the others hadn’t considered how Rattler’s ordeal or injuries would affect him.
“He was badly hurt, but that’s nothing to what’s obviously going on in here.
” I tap the side of my head. “Was it a real bomb, Bullseye? Or was Malachi fucking with him?” I feel myself getting uptight on Flynn’s behalf.
After taking a deep breath, Bullseye raps his fingers against the bar. He raises his eyes to the ceiling, then looks back down. “There was a bomb,” he confirms, and in such a tone I have no option other than to believe him. “We’d all be dead if Rattler hadn’t managed to warn us.”
For a second it seems like he’s talking to himself rather than me when he adds, “Thank fuck for Pippa. She was able to hack into the camera, and play back footage showing Rat sitting alone. Then she told us how to disarm the bomb, and well, you know the rest.”
My jaw drops to the floor. “Pippa?” I whisper in a reverent tone. “What is she? Some kind of super hero? Army trained?”
“Something like that,” he replies sharply. “But that’s her story to tell.”
While I’m digesting her capabilities, silence falls between us.
I start wondering why it’s taken so long for the prospect to get ice.
I’m just about to suggest I go get some myself, when Bullseye swings around on his chair, and fixes his all-seeing eyes on me.
“Didn’t think you’d stick around after what went down yesterday. ”
Neither did I until I’d taken advice from an unlikely source.
“I’m willing to give him a chance.” I raise my face so I’m staring straight at him.
“Flynn and I grew close during the time we were at the cabin. I think I got to know the man that you never see.” I pause to gather my thoughts, but hurry into my next statement as Bullseye opens his mouth to speak.
“In any case, it would be suicide, or worse, were I to leave. I’d be stupid to just rush out of here.
Even if I went to Satin, what could she do to protect me? ”
Bullseye’s face shutters. “Rat didn’t speak to you about her?”
I shake my head and raise a puzzled brow. “Has something happened?” Could she have had an accident, or with me going away and never contacting her, maybe she’s moved on?
“There’s no easy way to say this, Ames. She wasn’t in contact with your brother, but we’re pretty certain she was working with Volkov.”
“Volkov?” What the fuck? “She’d never betray me.” I bite my lip, am I being stupid to be so adamant? Is it that I truly believe her innocence, or I don’t want to admit I’ve been fooled? Pippa herself warned me about her. “What evidence have you got?”
Grimacing, he admits, “Nothing solid. Just a lot of things adding up.” As I go to speak, he continues, “I’m going to get Pippa looking into it.
And while I’m speaking to her, do you want me to ask her to wipe the marriage certificate off the official records?
You’d be clear and unencumbered if she does that. ”
My eyes go wide. I don’t even question whether Pippa could do what he’s suggesting, she’s superwoman it seems. “What if Flynn and I want to work at our marriage?”
“What marriage?” he asks gently. “Ames, Words didn’t even bother going through the whole service with you.
Legal, yeah, but little more than that. You could have a fresh start.
Doesn’t mean you can’t hang around getting to know Rattler better, but you’d be able to do that without worrying about annulments or divorce if it doesn’t work out.
And if it does, well, you could do things over, have a proper wedding. ”
My first impulse is to say no, something inside me likes the idea of being tied to Flynn.
Apart from anything else he’s the closest thing I have to family now.
But is that putting pressure on us to make something unworkable work?
“I’ll think on it,” I tell him. Maybe it’s a conversation to have with the man himself.
“This enough?” The prospect returns with a huge bag of ice, one I’ll struggle with going up the stairs.
When he goes to pass it to me, Bullseye’s snaps. “Take it up for her.” Then he frowns. “You really going to need all that?”
Seeing the prospect waiting for an answer from me, I assess the amount of ice, and shrug. “When he was in his dream he was thrashing, hurt his legs again. So yeah, I can put that to use.”
Drawing in air, Bullseye lets it out on a sigh. He pushes away from his stool, and takes the bag from the prospect. “I’ll bring it up myself.”
Right. Yeah. Hoping Flynn won’t mind I’m returning with his prez in tow, I climb the stairs overly conscious that he’s right behind me. And when I open the door to the room Flynn and I are staying in, he follows me in. I’ve no chance to issue a warning.
Flynn’s eyes crease. “Didn’t know you make house calls.”
Bullseye chuckles. “Don’t normally, but wanted to see how you are.
” He walks in, pauses, then frowns. Flynn’s pulled the sheet away from his legs as if even that light weight was causing him pain.
His legs are mottled black and purple, and misshapen with all the swelling.
He sucks in air. “Fuck, that bastard got you good.”
“I’ll soon be riding again,” Rattler insists, his face flushed with worry.
“Of course, you fucking will.” Then Bullseye turns to me. “Where do you want this?” He raises the bag of ice he’s using two hands to hold.
Thinking fast, I take two clean sheets from where I know Trixie stores them, and make a couple of makeshift bumpers that can go either side of Rattler.
Then I realise that the ice will melt and make the bed wet.
Having only expected a normal bag of ice, I hadn’t planned what to do with a whole sack.
Then the prospect appears in the open door, carrying a plastic sheet. “Er, I thought this would be useful.”
Bullseye just dips his head by way of thank you, and takes his offering from him.
While Rattler looks on bemused, his prez and I place half the ice on the plastic the prospect’s just brought, wrap it in a sheet, and gently place it over Rattler’s left leg.
Then use the bag the rest was in and another sheet to do the same to his right.
Prez looks at Flynn whose legs now resemble burritos.
After clearing his throat, he says in an unexpectedly sympathetic tone, “What happened yesterday was fucked up. Got to be playing on your mind, Brother. You need anything, just let me know.” He swipes his hand back through his hair.
“Think we all thought our geese were cooked for a moment.” He shudders.
“Winchester still goes to see someone at the VA from time to time when his PTSD flares up. You think you need someone to talk to, you just let me know okay?”
Flynn glances at me, his eyes narrowed, but I act innocent, hoping even if he realises I gave away that he’d had a nightmare, he knows I had his best interest at heart. Then, just as fast, he switches his attention back to Bullseye.
“Thanks, Prez,” he tells him. “If it gets too bad, I will.”
“Just shout if you need Bronwyn for anything.”
Flynn raises his chin.
Then, with one final tight-lipped assessment of his injured brother, and a chin lift to me, Bullseye leaves.
Hoping Flynn is going to ignore that I tattled to his prez, breezily I head him off. “In twenty minutes, I’ll remove the ice. Hopefully it won’t melt too much, and we can do it again in a couple of hours.” I try to talk about mundane things to lighten the atmosphere,
“Rather have your warm body beside me,” he grumbles, his words making my concern that he’d blame me for outing him to his prez vanish.
“Are you hungry? Can I get you something to eat?”