by M J Marino
Detective Quire questions both Maceo and I rather quickly, and then he releases us. He knows enough of what happened to close the case regarding Jacob. He says he will reach out if he needs more information about Jesse, the driver. Honestly, I think he could see how much pain I’m in, and wanted to wrap things up for my sake.
Back at the rental, Maceo helps me into the shower. He climbs in after me to help clean me up, removing the rest of Jacob from my skin. He holds me after ‘till the water runs cold.
Opal and Ebony push their way into the bathroom afterward, and they help fix my torn nails and apply ointments to my cuts and scrapes. Thankfully, they pay no mind to Maceo’s toweled naked body while he watches them fuss over me. Red and Candy run in with a pharmacy bag containing my filled scripts, gauze, icepacks, and a heating pad.
Maceo is pushed out of the bathroom, pissing him off. “I don’t want to leave her.”
“You’re in the way!” Candy hisses, before slamming the door in his face.
My face crumbles. I want Maceo with me right now. I start to cry and fall to my knees, clutching at my broken ribs. Red drops and wraps her slender arms around me.
Opal flies to the door and swings it open. “Flay, we need you.”
My eyes flicker to the hallway and connect with Maceo’s for a moment, before Flay comes running into view, blocking him out. The worry I catch in Maceo’s dark eyes brings on fresh tears.
It sounds like there’s a scuffle in the hallway, and I wipe away my tears to see Maceo pushing his way back into the bathroom. “What’s wrong with her? For fuck’s sake, let me in, dammit!”
Flay blocks him from entering. “It’s her ribs. I’m going to wrap her and make her more comfortable. I need room to work.”
Maceo snarls at Flay. “She’s not fucking dressed.” Well, I guess Maceo’s jealousy is still there. There’s only so much he’s willing to tolerate.
Flay shoots Maceo an annoyed look. “I’m a fucking medical professional. The last thing I’m going to do is check out your woman while I’m treating her.”
“Come on, Atlas,” Gauge says, pulling him out of the bathroom and closing the door.
I hear Maceo’s muffled voice on the other side. “He’s seen enough of her naked body for one day. She’s been through hell. I just want to hold her and make her feel safe.”
And then I hear Maceo breaking down in sobs—hard, gut-wrenching sobs.
My hands release my ribs and fly over my mouth, covering my own cries. The man I love is falling apart seeing me in pain. I can’t let him hear me cry tonight, because I can’t bear to hear or see him in emotional turmoil.
“And you will, brother. Flay’s only helping her. She’s in good hands. Let’s get you dressed and wait out in the living room for her, okay?” Gauge says calmly, and the hallway goes quiet.
Flay squats down and helps me to my feet. “He’s going to be okay, Jo. Just focus on you right now. I’m going to wrap your torso to help support your broken ribs. Is it okay if I remove your towel?”
I appreciate Flay asking permission to disrobe me after what I’ve been through, and I nod mutely. Red helps me out of my towel, and I stand in front of all the bunnies and Flay, completely naked. Under normal circumstances, I would be embarrassed to be nude in front of a crowd, but I’m too caught up in my head to care.
The bunnies take stock of my battered body before looking away with tears in their eyes. I know they feel bad for me, but this hits too close to home for them—judging by their faces, I’m willing to bet they’ve had similar experiences. Now I know why they’re in here supporting me.
Opal assists Flay as he gently wraps my torso. True to his word, he didn’t once try to check out my naked body. There’s a knock at the bathroom door. Opal throws the towel around me, and I’m grateful. I don’t want Maceo going wild if someone else sees me naked. Ebony answers the door, Triple and Stage are standing there with a Target bag.
“We thought Jo would want some soft, non-restrictive clothes while she heals,” Stage says.
“We got extra-smalls. Hope that’s right,” Triple adds, looking into the bathroom at me.
“Thank you,” I whisper, hoarsely. My throat is really hurting me now.
Flay tears into my scripts and pulls out my pain meds. “Here, Jo. You need to take this,” he says, and places the pill in my hand. Triple darts off and comes back with a bottle of water. I take the pill with the water, but I have a hard time swallowing. I just can’t get it down.
Seeing me struggle, Flay turns back to the guys. “Go grab a yogurt and a spoon.” Stage goes to the kitchen this time. Flay makes me spit the pill out. He crushes it on the counter with the spoon and adds it to the yogurt. “Take small bites, but you will need to eat all of it to get all your medication.”
I do as he says, and I manage to get it all down, but my throat bitches at me each time I swallow.
“When you’re ready, Jo, come out to the living room. Reaper and Brass set up a bed for you and Atlas. They thought you might want to watch television while you recover. Butch and Ziggy even programmed Netflix with all the movies and shows they thought you may like,” Stage says.
Triple smiles. “Yeah, Eagle even ordered your favorite Chinese takeout for the whole house. Everyone is trying to do something to help. Chase and Punk fed and took Hades for his walk—he was pacing the hallway carpet thin with worry over you.”
I wipe away my tears and mouth “thank you” to them, unable to tolerate the pain of using my voice anymore. They close the door and more tears roll down my face.
Opal grabs a tissue and blots my face. Flay helps me get into a new silky-smooth pajama set.
When I finally emerge from the bathroom, Flay helps me walk, all the bunnies trailing behind us. The living room is jam-packed, but there’s only one face I want to see.
Maceo sits on our new bed, Gauge sits next to him. It appears that Gauge is trying to keep Maceo calm by whispering words of support. I start to make my way to him, and Maceo’s dark torturous eyes lock with mine. Gauge gets up and goes to Opal, making room for me on the bed. Maceo stands, holding out his arms for me to join him. Once I’m safe in his embrace, he relaxes, and he helps me into the bed, sliding in next to me, holding me close.
Everyone settles into the living room as dinner is passed around and some chick-flick plays on the television. The food looks good, but my throat hurts too damn much, and I’m feeling queasy on top of it.
Maceo coaxes me to take a couple bites. “I don’t want the pain medication to upset your stomach. Throwing up with broken ribs would not be good for you, baby.”
Ugh! That would be par for the course. The fear of vomiting and hurting myself more is the only way I manage a couple more bites before my throat screams ‘enough.’
Mostly, everyone eats in silence or low whispers while we watch the movie. I don’t say a word or laugh at any of the scenes playing on the screen. My body feels like it’s shutting down. Hades whines at the foot of the bed. He knows something horrible happened, and my poor boy is worried, but I can’t find the strength to comfort him at the moment.
I think I’m in shock.
Everything is catching up to me and I feel like my mind and body aren’t connected. I desperately want to stop the awful memories from playing on repeat in my head, but my body is incapable of shutting it down. To say I feel violated or victimized doesn’t cover the surface of my emotions. There are no words to describe what I’m feeling.
Anger, fear, sadness—so much and at the same time nothing at all. Maybe my pain meds are messing with me, or maybe I’m emotionally broken now.
Exhausted, I sag against Maceo and feel myself starting to drift off. My eyelids flutter closed, and my breathing evens out. I’m not completely asleep, but I’m close.
I hear the television turn off and everyone is quiet. They could go back to their normal activities or head off to bed, but no one seems to want to leave.
“Is it okay if we stay out here with you and Jo, pr
ez?” Stage bravely asks on behalf of everyone.
“Yeah, it’s okay,” Maceo says, settling into the bed with me snuggled against him.
Everyone works to get comfortable for the evening. It’s silent for several minutes before Punk speaks. “That was too close today.”
Maceo groans. “No shit.”
“The fucker is lucky the cops took him out and not us,” Gauge growls.
“Well, Jo certainly didn’t make it easy on either of them,” Flay says, delighted.
Maceo chuckles. “She broke one fucker’s nose.”
“And fought like the hellcat she is to keep Jacob from going any further,” Flay adds.
Red sniffles. “I’m just glad you were all there to stop him. Not every woman is that lucky.”
The tension is thick in the air as Red’s words sink in. She’s right, not every woman has someone to help save them from danger, let alone an entire motorcycle club.
After a long silence, Reaper cuts the tension in the air by chuckling. “I’m just glad I’m not the one who got pissed on by the other weasel.”
Brass groans. “Fuck off! It’s bad enough I had to wait until late tonight to wash it off, without being reminded of it.”
They all snigger, and I pass out from exhaustion.
Chapter Nineteen
Maceo
Josephine rests through the rest of the week and into the weekend. She’s starting to worry me. She hardly eats, barely speaks, has panic attacks, and when she sleeps she has night terrors. Getting stabbed in the heart would hurt less than watching her go through this.
By Monday, I’m frantic. I reach out to the VA and get the name of several recommended counselors who specialize in treating post-traumatic stress disorder. Having been around several men who have had it—I have a touch of it myself—I can pretty much diagnose her with it. I make her an appointment with one of the counselors.
My girl is broken, and she doesn’t fight me when I tell her where I’m taking her. If this was my Josephine before Jacob’s attack, she would be fighting me the whole way there. But this isn’t—this Josephine is fragile and it’s gutting me.
The counselor lets me to sit with Josephine through the session because my pixie has no objection to my presence. It doesn’t take long before Josephine is breaking down in sobs retelling the events of that day. Hearing what she was feeling at the time and what she’s feeling now rips a hole through me worse than any shrapnel could. I’m crying as hard as she is by the end of the session.
We’re given good news at the end of the visit. Her counselor feels she’s responsive to therapy, and that continued sessions will help Josephine deal with the stress and anxiety of the attack. We schedule for her to come weekly, and to taper off as she improves. The clinic psychiatrist gives her a prescription to help regulate when she’s feeling emotionally overwhelmed. It seems hopeful, because she doesn’t foresee Josephine needing it long term.
I don’t know which of us feels better after we head home. The thick aura around Josephine seems to have dissipated and we both breathe a little easier. She actually reaches out for my hand for the first time in days, and I weep with relief.
We have a long way to go, but I know we will be stronger because of it.
Tuesday morning, I wake up to Josephine poking me. I grumble but say nothing. I get dressed to drive her to the hospital for a visit with Tiny Tony. When she enters his room, she bursts into tears and runs to his bedside. A concussion and cracked ribs don’t stop him from pulling her into his arms while she cries. He may be a mafioso, but he’s a decent enough guy. I let the two of them hug it out until her tears run dry.
By Wednesday, she’s back at the build site with Hades by her side. Her crew nearly crush her, rushing to embrace her with Jared first in line. I would have let Jared see her sooner, but in light of how catatonic she was, I decided against it. Jared wasn’t happy, but he understood. He filled in their team on what happened last Wednesday. Having her back at work has brought them more relief than anything.
Sore and in pain, she hobbles around the construction zone overseeing every detail like she always does. The normalcy of being back on the job should help with some of her anxiety, which is probably the only reason I agreed to let her come back this soon. By the end of the week, it’s like she’s the same old person at work as before.
The media has been hounding us relentlessly. My crew and I have been able to keep them at bay and shelter Josephine as much as possible, but I was still forced to give a press conference. I stressed the need for privacy as Josephine heals physically and emotionally. It got the media off our front lawn, but news outlets still blow up our phones with requests. Too bad for them they won’t be getting any more information from us.
Hades is not happy going on his morning runs without Josephine. After the first day of me dragging him along, he refused to go, howling and barking up a storm. He hates being separated from her—just like me. All the guys tried to coax him out, but the dog is too damn stubborn.
Eventually Jo comes up with the idea to buy a bike and ride along next to me in order for Hades to get his exercise. I know it hurts her, her body jostles along, but she’d do anything for her dog.
It’s finally Friday evening, and Josephine and I are ready to head home when her cell rings. It’s the hospital, asking us to come in for the diagnostic laboratory results of the rape kit. We meet with the doctor who examined Josephine, hands clasped together in support. We’re informed they found no semen or lubricant from a condom in their testing, only traces of my DNA inside of her.
We leave the hospital and breathe a huge fucking sigh of relief. Even though we knew the chance it happened was small, being able to put it behind us is what we’re more grateful about than anything.
Always eager to make eye contact with my pixie, I look over at her in the passenger seat and see her eyelids flutter. She has been pushing herself too hard with work and not resting enough. Not wanting to hurt her, I’ve been driving her to work in her Subaru while my SUV is in the shop. Her eyes are closed, but she’s wide awake.
She sighs. “I want to put the condo on the market.”
“Whatever you want. What do you need from me to get it done?”
She sighs again. “I need help packing up my belongings and getting them into storage. We can store my stuff in one of the MC garages ‘till we move into the headquarters. I know a realtor who will sell my place quickly.”
“I’ll get the boxes from the U-Haul store tomorrow. And I’ll get the bunnies and the guys not out on assignment to help.”
I gnaw on my bottom lip, bracing myself to ask the next question.
“Have you thought about the wedding at all?” I ask cautiously, afraid it may upset her.
She pulls out a white binder from her backpack, flips it open, and starts reading off a checklist she has inside.
“We’re getting married the first Saturday of October. My dress needs a few small alterations and I’ve already booked the appointment. I’ve asked Opal and Ebony to be bridesmaids and I’ve picked out the dresses, but I need one more person. I’m letting you know right now I’m considering asking Jared to stand in as my man of honor since I don’t have a maid of honor. My suggestion is that you guys should go with tailored suits, unless you want your Navy uniforms. I’ve booked the food and liquor vendors, cake bakery, DJ, florist, officiant, outdoor tent company, photographer, and I found the invitations I want to order. How many we order depends entirely on your guest list, which you will have to get to me by the end of next week. I only plan on inviting Jared and my crew.”
My eyes bulge with shock. When the hell did she do all this?
“Oh, and we should decide where we’re going to honeymoon, if we’re going somewhere. I was hoping someplace warm, like an island.”
“O-okay,” I stammer.
She gives me a wry smile. “I’m good at multitasking. I was already planning the real one when we were doing the fake wedding.”
No shit. H
ere I was, thinking we were going to have to postpone, or hire a wedding coordinator to get this ball rolling, but she’s got the whole thing wrapped up with a bow.
My heart is jackhammering. October is less than two months away. The MC clubhouse will be complete, and we’ll all be moved in by then. It won’t take much to make our place ready to host the wedding. Everything is happening all at once.
Nervousness would be the rational emotion, but I’m feeling giddy as fuck. Josephine will be my wife in less than two months! Mrs. Maceo ‘Atlas’ Tabares sounds fucking hot when I apply it to Josephine. My dick starts to swell with excitement.
“Oh, and I’ve scheduled the removal of my implant for two weeks before the wedding,” Josephine says with a seductive smile.
Holy hell! I yank the car to the side of the road down an old logger trail and throw it in park. I reach over and unbuckle Josephine, hauling her into my lap. My cock fights to break free of my clothes as I undo my pants. Chest heaving to drag in more oxygen, my lips crash against hers, and growl my desire.
Who would have guessed I’d get turned on by talk of weddings and babies?
“I fucking need you, Pixie,” I say between rough kisses. My thick dick pops out from my boxers.
Josephine moans against my mouth, fumbling with her own pants. We haven’t made love since before the attack, and to say I’ve missed being inside of her is an understatement—I’m fucking starving. I wasn’t going to rush her after what happened, but I’m happy as fuck that she’s yearning for this connection too.
My God, I need inside of her—now!
When her boots and pants are removed, she’s quick to grab hold of my steel cock. It’s already dripping with precome, and she lines it up to her warm, wet center. She sinks slowly, inch by agonizing inch, until I can enter her no further. She pulls back up, and sinks down again until I’m in her to the hilt.
My fingers gently take hold of her hips and I lean back in my seat, allowing her more room to move. Slowly, she grinds her hips, making my fingers dig a little more into her soft skin. As much as I want her to start working me, I won’t push her. She needs to be in control right now and set the rhythm.
