Chapter 6
Remington
At first, I thought that Shotgun was only trying to help figure out who’d hurt me, but with each question he asked, I found myself wondering if there was something else going on.
For a moment, I actually got the feeling that he was kind of interested in me, especially when he kept asking if I was involved with someone.
I knew it was crazy to have such thoughts.
He was this sexy, hot biker guy who could get any woman he wanted, and I was a hot mess.
I could only imagine how horrible I must’ve looked.
I glanced down at my hand and cringed at the sight of the dried blood on my wrist and forearm.
I lifted my hands up to my face, gently brushing them over all the bumps and scratches, and every inch felt tight and tender.
Curious to see how bad it really was, I looked over to Shotgun and asked, “Can I have a mirror?”
“What?”
“A mirror,” I pushed. I knew he was eager to find out what I could remember about the other night, but at that moment, my focus was set on seeing just how badly I looked. “Can I see a mirror?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Shotgun seemed like the kind of man who’d seen a fight or two in his time, so the tone in his voice made it clear that it was even worse than I thought. He might’ve been trying to protect me, but I needed to know. “Please.”
“I don’t see what good it’ll do but suit yourself.”
He got up and stepped into the bathroom.
Moments later, he returned with a small pocket mirror.
He held it in his hand for several seconds before finally offering it to me.
I took a few moments to muster the courage before I finally opened it up.
Gasping at my reflection, I couldn’t believe what was staring back at me.
My entire face was covered in bumps and bruises, but my left eye was the worst. It was almost swollen shut with deep, dark bruises beneath it, making me look like I’d been in a boxing match.
There was a knot on my jaw where one of the men had either punched or kicked me and another huge one on my forehead.
My hair was matted down with dried blood with even more down my neck.
I couldn’t have looked worse if I’d been in a horrible car wreck.
I quickly closed the mirror and tossed it on the bed, then dropped my head into my hands.
I tried to fight back my tears, but I just couldn’t.
I was too overwhelmed by what I’d seen, and it wasn’t long before I was sobbing uncontrollably.
Up to this point, Shotgun hadn’t exactly been comforting about my wounds, so I was surprised when I felt his arm slip around me.
He gently pulled me to his side, and his voice was soft and soothing.
“It’s gonna be okay. It’s just some scrapes and bruises. They’ll go away.”
“Why would someone do this to me?”
“I don’t know, but I intend to find out.” His voice was filled with determination as he continued, “And when I do, I’ll make them pay. I promise you that.”
“Why are you helping me?” I leaned back so I could see his face. “You don’t even know me.”
“I’m not gonna lie.” He removed his arm from my shoulder and stood. “It’s not only about you.”
“Then, what else is it about? Do you know who did this to me?”
“Yes, but I can’t really get into all that. Just know that I’m gonna do whatever I can to find these guys.”
Even though he couldn’t tell me exactly why he was taking it upon himself to help me, I believed him when he said he’d find the men who’d hurt me.
I had no idea what he’d do when he found them, but something told me it wouldn’t be good.
I didn’t care. I was just relieved to know that he was on my side.
As I wiped the tears from my cheek, I whispered, “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”
“No need to thank me.” He gave me a slight chuckle. “I haven’t found them yet.”
“But you will.” I glanced down, and once again, noted the dried blood on my wrist. Seeing it reminded me of just how awful I looked, and I couldn’t stand it a moment longer. “Do you think we could take a break for a few minutes so I could get cleaned up?”
“Yeah, we can take a break, but I’m not sure about your stitches.” His brows furrowed with concern. “Don’t think you should get them wet.”
“I don’t have to take a full-blown shower or anything.” I lifted my hand to show him. “I just want to get some of this blood off me and maybe wash my hair.”
“You think you can make it to the bathroom?”
“If you help me I can.”
He nodded, then leaned down and gently picked me up, carrying me into the bathroom. As he lowered my feet to the floor, he said, “There are some washcloths in the cabinet.”
“Okay.”
“You want me to get you a change of clothes?”
I glanced down at the t-shirt and sleep pants I was wearing, and even though they were way too big, both felt comfortable. I shook my head and said, “These are fine.”
“You sure?”
“Um-hmm. I like how they feel, and they smell really good too.”
A slight smile crossed his face. “Glad you like them.”
“Wait.” I looked over to him with surprise. “Are these yours?”
“They are.”
“Oh.” I glanced down and smiled. Once again, Shotgun had been there when I needed him. “Well, thanks for letting me borrow them.”
“Anytime.”
I turned on the water at the sink and he stepped out of the room, giving me a chance to freshen up on my own.
There was a mirror in front of me, but I could barely stand to look at myself as I washed my face and arms. While it helped to get cleaned off a bit, I wanted desperately to wash my hair.
I knew I couldn’t do it on my own, so I called out, “Hey, Shotgun. Can you come here a minute?”
“Yeah.” He stepped back in the room with a concerned look. “Whatcha need?”
“Any ideas on how I might be able to wash my hair?”
He stood there for a moment, then turned and walked out of the bathroom. “Hold on.”
“Okay.”
Seconds later, he came back with a chair, then placed it against the sink and said, “How about this? You can sit and do it.”
“Are you going to help me?”
“Um...I could go grab one of the girls to help ya.”
I was already mortified he was seeing me in such a terrible state, especially when he looked the way he did.
While he’d done his best to hide it, he had to have been repulsed by the sight of me, and I couldn’t stand the idea of anyone else being forced to view me this way.
I must’ve been out of my mind to think this rough, tough biker would be willing to wash my hair, but I asked nonetheless.
“Thanks, but if you don’t mind, I’d really rather you do it. ”
It was clear Shotgun had no idea what to do or say as he stood there gaping at me like a deer in headlights.
He glanced over to the sink, then back over to me.
I was beginning to think he was going to tell me that he couldn’t do it, especially when he started shaking his head, but to my surprise, he motioned his hand over to the chair and said, “Sit, and I’ll see what I can do. ”
“Okay.” I carefully moved over to the chair and held on to his arm as I slowly sat down.
Once I was seated, he reached over and grabbed the shampoo out of the shower.
When I noticed he was ready, I inched my head back until it was resting on the ledge of the sink.
As he wet my hair, I said, “I really appreciate you doing this.”
“Don’t mention it.” He turned on the faucet and checked the water’s temperature, then gathered my hair into the sink, but right before he picked up the shampoo, he looked down at me with his eyebrow cocked high. “I mean it, Remington. Don’t mention this shit to anyone.”
I started to giggle but quickly stopped when I felt a stabbing pain in my side. Damn bruised ribs. I winced as I said, “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”
“Good.” Just to be clear, this wasn’t a hair wash that you might see in a romantic movie where the guy was all sexy and sultry as he moved his hands through the girl’s luxurious locks.
Don’t get me wrong, it still felt amazing.
Even though he might’ve been eager to finish and moved quickly, his touch was soft and gentle.
As soon as he was done shampooing, he promptly rinsed my hair, then helped me wrap it in a towel. “That should do it.”
Shotgun carefully lifted me and carried me back to the bedroom.
I was surprised by how safe I felt in his arms and was almost disappointed when he placed me down on the bed.
Moving around had taken its toll, and I was suddenly extremely tired.
I could barely keep my eyes open as I mumbled, “Thank you.”
“You know”—his eyes drifted over me—“you’re stronger than you look.”
“And you’re kinder than you let people think, so I guess we’ve both got people fooled.”
“If you think I’m kind, then you got the wrong idea about me.”
“Actions speak louder than words.”
“Exactly.” With an incoherent grumble, he started for the door. “Get some rest.”
“Wait,” I muttered with a groggy voice. “I thought you still had questions for me.”
“I do, but they can wait. I’ll be back later tonight, and we can finish up then.”
Too tired to argue, I closed my eyes with a groan, so out of it that I never even heard the door close.
I was sleeping soundly when, out of the blue, the dreams started.
It was one horrible nightmare after the next.
I could feel the panic creeping over me as I tried to pull myself out of it.
I must’ve been causing quite a scene because it wasn’t long before I felt someone shaking me.
“Wake up, Remington. Come on, kid. Wake up.”
When I opened my eyes, I found Doc hovering over me. I inhaled a quick, pained breath as I mumbled, “I was having a bad dream.”
“I see that.” He stood and smiled. “It’s over now.”
“I wish that were true.”
“It will be soon enough. You’ll see.” A soft smile crossed his face as he asked, “You feeling okay?”
“Yeah, just a little woozy.”