Chapter Sixteen
Rune
“What’s going on?” I asked, walking out of my room to find Spike, Cain, and Croft sitting in the living room. Not a girl or drink in sight. “You guys in trouble for something?”
“Been partying nonstop for two weeks,” Cain said. “It was time to dry out for a few nights.”
“And three of the club girls went to Cape May for vacation,” Spike admitted.
“There it is,” I said with a laugh.
“Problem is, our bodies are used to the party schedule,” Croft admitted. “So… we’re up.”
“Up and watching… documentaries?” I asked, glancing at the TV.
“One of the club girls gave us homework,” Croft said, shrugging. “We’re not far in if you want us to restart it.”
So we ordered delivery from the local diner… and watched a fucking six-part documentary until Cain suddenly reached for the remote and paused the TV.
“What is it?” I asked, tensing when I saw him stiffen.
“Think I heard a car door.”
“At this hour?” Croft asked, making me glance at the clock.
It was late as fuck.
If this was one of the parents or princesses, shit was serious.
Cain got to his feet.
Spike reached for a gun on the end table.
I started to stand.
The front door opened.
And there was Carmen.
Beaten to shit, cradling her arm, eyes frantic.
“Jesus Christ,” Cain hissed.
I was on my feet and across the room in the span of a breath.
“Baby…”
She threw herself into me, a sob catching, then breaking free as my arms went around her.
“It’s okay,” I said, trying to give her a comforting squeeze without hurting her, since I had no idea where she might be injured. “You’re all right now.”
Her hot tears wet through my shirt as I turned to face my club brothers, seeing their matching masks of concern and confusion.
I locked eyes with Spike—our resident first aid guy, since he had a stomach of steel for even the gnarliest of injuries. I mouthed ‘first aid kit’ and watched him rush off to get that.
Croft got up to grab a box of tissues, placing it on the pool table beside where we stood.
When she was finally out of tears and sniffling hard, I reached for some and handed them to her.
“Let’s sit down,” I suggested, leading her over toward the couch and carefully pressing her down. “What happened?” I asked when her head finally lifted.
If possible, I’d swear she looked worse than she had just fifteen or twenty minutes before.
There were bruises all over her face. Her eye was swollen, her lip fat, and there was some dried blood from cuts on her cheek.
But the way she was cradling her hand was what had me the most concerned.
“I was sleeping,” she said, voice so small that she needed to clear her throat and try again. “And I heard someone on the stairs. I… I tried to get to my gun in the drawer where you put it.”
I could feel Croft, Cain, and Spike’s gazes on me, their minds likely full of questions. But they’d have to wait.
“But they were fast. He smashed my hand in the drawer. Then… then he threw me on the bed.” My stomach tensed. “And they handcuffed me and bound my ankles. Put duct tape on my mouth, so I couldn’t cry out.”
“Sofia?” I asked.
“Road trip.”
“Okay. Good. What happened then?”
“The one threw me over his shoulder. And I knew… I knew I couldn’t let them take me.
So I threw myself off his shoulder. He fell.
I fell.” With her arms and legs bound and no way to brace herself, that had to be a hard fall.
I had a feeling her whole body was black and blue.
“Then I started slamming my feet into the wall to wake up Chip.”
“Good. That was smart.”
“He came eventually and… I think he shot both of them. But they ran.”
“And you came here.”
“After I dropped Chip at a hotel.”
“That was smart. Did you see the guys? Would you be able to describe them?”
“They were all in black and had bandanas over their faces.”
“Alright. That’s fine. We’ll still try to figure it out. Did they say anything?”
Her brows pinched. “One of them said that they weren’t supposed to hurt me… yet.”
“So there was someone else in charge. Did they say any names or anything else that might be helpful?”
“They didn’t say much. It was over so fast.”
“Do you think it was those brothers?”
“No. Chip said he spoke to them and they were offended that he thought they would try to shoot up innocent women because they were mad at him.” She paused, looking uncomfortable.
“What is it?”
“Chip was wondering if maybe this wasn’t about him. Or me. If maybe it was about you.”
“About me?” My knee-jerk reaction was to insist that no, there was no way. The thing was, though, there was a way, wasn’t there? I had a past. The club also did as well.
“That maybe they thought we were, um, dating. And they wanted to use me against you.”
“I guess that’s possible,” I agreed. “We’re gonna need to do more digging about that. But right now, I really want to make sure you’re okay. This is Spike,” I told her, half-turning to gesture to the tall, black-haired biker. “Is it okay if he looks at you?”
“He’s a doctor?” she asked, brows lowering.
“Played doctor plenty in my time, love, but, no. I just know a thing or two.”
“I could take you to a hospital,” I offered. “But you’re going to get questioned there.”
“No. I mean, if I have to, okay. But I don’t want to.”
I moved out of the way so Spike could take my place.
“Mind if I get a look at that hand first?” he asked.
Carmen slowly moved her protective hand away and held the bad one out.
Something was broken.
It was swollen and bruised to high hell.
I could practically hear her thoughts as she looked down at it, a little whimper escaping her: she needed her hands to work; what was going to happen to her business if she couldn’t do any of the cleaning?
“Alright. I’m gonna press a little, but feel free to cuss me out if I hurt you,” Spike said.
He was gentle, though, as he pressed and prodded at the top of her hand.
“Okay. Your turn now. I need you to try to move each finger individually,” Spike instructed, then watched Carmen’s efforts.
“I know. I suck,” he said when she finished and her lower lip wobbled.
“But one more thing. Can you try to make a fist for me? Don’t force it if it really hurts, but do the best you can. ”
Carmen narrowed her eyes at him, then slowly curled her hand. “Yeah,” Spike said as he watched her fist. “Looking like you broke the second and third metacarpals.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“See how they go slightly the wrong way? That’s a break.”
“You’re sure?”
“Broke mine more than a few times?”
“How?” Carmen asked.
“By slamming my fists into hard things. Mostly people’s jaws too many times. I’m basically a broken hand expert, so I can tell you that it’s gonna be a sucky four to eight weeks, but you just need to immobilize it.”
“With a cast?”
“Eh. I think we can get away with a good brace, if you promise to take it easy.”
“She will,” I assured him.
“I’ll go rummage around in the brace tote.”
“You have a brace tote?”
“A one-stop orthopedic shop,” Spike confirmed. “Sit tight for one minute, love.”
He got to his feet and nodded toward the basement door.
“One sec,” I said, touching the side of her head, then following Spike. “What’s up?”
“Got a feeling she’s bruised up in places she don’t want me to see. You know how to check her ribs?”
“Yeah. Broke and bruised mine, shit, three times. I know the signs.”
“Good. I’ll grab the brace, icepacks, and some pain meds and meet you in your room in twenty.”
“Thanks, man,” I said, slapping his shoulder before going back to Carmen.
“He’s nice.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “And it’s lucky he knows a thing or two about this kind of thing. Aside from the hand, what hurts the worst?”
“Everything hurts everywhere all at once.”
“From the fall onto your face?”
“Yeah, I think so. Each step hit me in a different spot.”
“How are your teeth?”
“They’re fine.”
“Didn’t bite your tongue?”
“No.”
“What about hitting your head?”
“My head hit one of the steps—the flat side, not the edge.”
“Any blurry vision, nausea, light sensitivity, dizziness?”
“No. My head hurts, but other than that, no.” She paused, watching my face. “It looks bad, doesn’t it?”
“You haven’t looked?”
“No. I was focused on trying to drive with one hand and not break down.”
“In that case… you look great. Never better. Not swollen or bruised at all.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“We’ll just… cover the mirrors until you don’t look so bad,” I offered.
That got a little laugh out of her.
“I’m sorry for barging in. I didn’t have your number to call you and ask if maybe this was related to you.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. I’m glad you came here. Even if it didn’t have anything to do with me. You shouldn’t be alone after shit like that.”
“I don’t think I could have stayed there. I was relieved when Chip suggested I go to you. Just so I had an excuse to get out of the house.”
“You don’t need an excuse to come here.”
“I know things get… complicated here because of, like, your hierarchy or whatever.”
“Baby, trust me, a woman who was nearly kidnapped isn’t the craziest thing that has happened here.”
“I don’t know if you’re bullshitting me or not.”
“One day, a woman walked in here with a bomb strapped to her chest. So, yeah, trust me, this isn’t gonna get me in trouble.”
“A bomb? Seriously?”
“Yep. We got lucky that we have a few ex-military guys around here who could defuse it before anything tragic happened.”
“That’s insane.”
“The craziest part is that the woman and the guy who got her free are married and starting a family.”
“But what if this,” she said, gesturing at her face, “is my fault after all?”
“First of all, it’s never your fault when some asshole puts his hands on you. Second, who would be kidnapping you? Chicken Lady’s husband? Baseboard Guy? It makes more sense to assume this has to do with me. And third, trust me, Fallon doesn’t give a shit. He’s been through it all.”
“Will I have to talk to him? About, you know, everything?”
That was a good question.
“I’m probably going to have to tell him. He might have some questions. But Fallon is a good guy. He’s not gonna hurt you. He might be a little brusque at times, but just because he wants to get to the bottom of things.”
“Okay.”
“I would be there too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. We’re in this shit together. Before Spike gets back, though, you okay with coming into my room so I can check your ribs and anything else that might be hurt under your clothes?”
Despite everything, I could have sworn I saw a flash of heat before she banked it back down again.
“Yeah, okay.”
“Okay.” I got to my feet and offered her my hand. Judging by the way she winced and hissed and let me help pull her straight, I had a feeling she was a lot more hurt under there than I first realized.
I slid my hand into her good one and led her toward my room.