by Kay Maree
Blinking the last traces of the nightmare from my mind, I looked up at Mac’s expression. He looked serious, like he was on a mission.
“What’s going on?”
“We got a lot to discuss, and not a whole lot of time at the moment to do it, so I’m gonna keep it brief. I’m not comfortable leaving you alone right now. I don’t like where your head’s at after yesterday. I wish I could offer to stay here with you, but that’s a no go. Got word from home last night that my baby girl’s been in the hospital. I need to get home to my family and I want you to come with us.”
I winced and turned from him, staring up at the water stains on the ceiling. Once he and the other Charons left, I’d be alone. I knew I had to disappear after what had happened yesterday. I didn’t know what Sabella’s remaining men would do with his disappearance. I had no clue who knew he was coming to meet me other than those we’d killed already. But like Officer Lopez told me, I needed to leave town. But I wasn’t a fucking moron. I knew it was highly likely fallout from putting Sabella in the ground was going to find me no matter where I went. Did I want to bring that down on the Charon MC? Especially on Mac and his family? He’d just reminded me of the fact he had a wife and baby. It wouldn’t be fair to risk them. Not for me. I wasn’t worth it.
“I ain’t one of you, Mac. I don’t belong—”
“Bull fucking shit, Blade! You belong. You’ve helped out the Charons more than once. I have Scout’s blessing to bring you back to Bridgewater. He told me it was up to you if you wanted to join the club, but even if you don’t, you’re welcome in our town. My old lady told me last night to bring you home so we could look after you.”
I turned to look him in the eye to gauge if he was speaking the truth. Had Scout, the Charon MC president, really given his blessing to have me in his town? He would know the risk I posed to his club and everyone around him simply by my presence in their vicinity. And Mac had asked his old lady, his wife, if she was okay with having me in their home, of all places? That, I couldn’t do. I couldn’t put Mac’s wife and baby at that much risk.
Mac continued speaking. “You’re not alone, brother. Let us help you. Once your burns heal up, we’ll revisit where you want to live going forward. If you want to come back here, you can. If you don’t, we’ll help you move all your shit to Bridgewater.”
I stayed silent for a few more moments as I absorbed what Mac appeared to be offering me. It seemed too good to be true. And I’d learned the hard way, more than once, that things that seemed that way generally were.
“What’s up with your kid?”
“Allergic reaction to amoxicillin. Zara got her to hospital in time so she’ll be fine, but I wanna get back home to them to see for myself.”
I winced. No wonder he was all business about getting back home. Before I could say another word, the young club prospect, Jazz, came thundering through the trailer like his ass was on fire.
“We got a problem, Mac. A big, fucking problem.”
Mac reached for his gun and I forced my body to sit up, spinning my legs over the side of the bed. If trouble had arrived, I wasn’t going to get caught with nothing but my dick in my hand
“Spill it, Jazz. What the fuck’s going on?”
The prospect eyed Mac prepping his weapon for use as he moved toward the bedroom door.
“Nothing that needs a gun. At least I hope that’s not the route we’re taking…”
Their voices faded slightly as they moved out of the room, but the trailer was small and had thin walls, so I could still hear them as I gritted my teeth and stood. I kept the string of curses at the pain that flared through my right side in my head silent. The nurse had given me some hardcore painkillers to take last night and they’d knocked me out all night, but this morning they’d worn off completely and I was hurting like a son of a bitch.
“Jazz. Cut the shit. What is the problem?”
“We got a stowaway. That teenager from the warehouse—the one you gave your shirt to—well, she’s asleep in the back of the van.”
“She still sleeping?”
“Yeah. I saw her through the window as I was about to open things up. Figured I’d get you before I risked waking her.”
Ah, fuck. There’d only been one teen in that fucked up place. The one who had demanded a weapon to protect the other kids when we had to lock them back in their filthy room. She’d had a look in her eye that had reminded me of Josefina, of myself. The look of a fighter who’d been tested to the extreme, but was still there and still ready to go another round or two.
Unsure what Mac would do with her, I ignored my pain and dressed before heading outside with everyone else.
“Open it up, Jazz. Let’s get this dealt with.”
Jazz swung the door open, and with a jerk, the girl tried to hide under the pile of blankets that she’d clearly used as cover last night.
“We know you’re there, darlin’.”
Silently, she ran her gaze over each of us before settling it back on Mac’s face.
“Please. Don’t send me back.”
My spine stiffened. I might not know what Mac was going to do, but I was one-hundred fucking percent sure what he wouldn’t do. No way would any man here see anyone, let alone a child, return to a shit-hole like the one we’d pulled her out of yesterday.
The bite to Mac’s voice confirmed he was equally insulted the kid would think he would do such a thing. “I’d never send anyone back to a place like that. We busted that shit wide open and burned it to the ground so no one could ever be sent back there.”
She shook her head. “Not the warehouse, to the cops.”
That had me frowning. What the fuck was going on that she was just as scared of the police as she was of the mob who’d put her in that warehouse?
Keeping control over the situation, Mac nodded his head toward the trailer. “How about you come on inside? Get cleaned up and get something to eat, then we’ll discuss what the next step here is gonna be.”
Bank cleared his throat, drawing all the attention his way.
“I’ll head down to Walmart and grab her something to change into and some other stuff she’ll need.”
Mac nodded his way. “Good idea. Thanks, brother. What size are you, darlin’?”
She rattled off her digits and Bank gave her a nod. “I’ve got you covered, honey. Got a baby sister who’s probably about your age.”
With that, Bank headed to his bike and took off. Mac offered his palm to the girl.
“C’mon, kid. Let’s get you inside and more comfortable.”
I couldn’t help but be impressed with how seamlessly the club handled shit. A teen stowaway wasn’t on any of our agendas but they just rolled with it. Bank stepped up to get her supplies, Mac took control of the situation, lifting her easily into his strong arms when her knees buckled beneath her. Then he got her safely inside and in the bathroom where she could clean up. By the state she was in, I’d hazard a guess it had been a good, long while since she’d seen a hot shower.
Images of Josefina when I’d first found her flashed through my mind. The men who’d first kidnapped her had already used her before they’d sold her to Sabella. Fuckers had called it training. In reality it had been nothing more than a horrific series of gang rapes. Then Sabella had simply dumped her on the street for me to find after he’d sampled the goods. What was left of her clothing wasn’t much. Just like this teen, Josefina had had scabbed knuckles to go with her bruised and battered body. At sixteen, she’d tried to fight off grown men who were clearly much stronger and bigger than she’d been. She hadn’t been able to save herself, but she’d valiantly tried. My heart tore open as I wondered how many years it had taken Sabella to break her spirit enough that she’d stopped fighting. I doubted she could have kept it up for seventeen fucking years.
After the teen closed herself in the bathroom, Mac moved to the table and I joined the others to sit around him.
“Yesterday I
asked her if her mom was in the warehouse. She told me straight out she didn’t give a fuck if she was, because that bitch was the one who’d sold her to Sabella to pay off a drug debt. Just now she told me her dad would kill her before he’d take her into his home. I saw the shudder run through her at the thought of her old man. What the fuck, brothers? I don’t understand how parents can do that.”
I clenched my teeth so hard I heard my jaw crack. This kid was tearing what remained of my soul to shreds. I knew just how she felt. How Mac felt. And even all these years later, I couldn’t answer his question. Why would parents sell their child for monetary gain? I had no fucking clue. If I were ever lucky enough to be blessed with kids, I’d make sure they knew they were loved. Make sure they were protected at all times. I looked to the bathroom door, but it wasn’t the trailer’s shitty walls I saw. Nope, it was my childhood home. A nice house in the ‘burbs. My dad dragging me down the stairs toward the front door. I could have broken free, but the bastard was busy telling me all the ways he’d hurt my mother and little brother if I so much as spoke out of turn where I was going.
I’d had no clue what was going on. Mom was crying. Tears flowed down her pale cheeks as she kept a palm clamped over her mouth to contain the sounds of her sobs. There were three big men standing in the middle of the front room. All three wore suits, but the one in the middle was the one to watch. Even at sixteen, I knew Antonio Sabella owned the streets in this part of L.A.
I’d asked my father what was going on and he’d shaken me and told me to shut the fuck up. That I was Sabella’s problem now, and he was deadly serious about me doing as I was told without giving any lip. That my mother and brother would pay the price if I didn’t. Aaron was ten years my junior. At six, he was nothing more than a scared little boy clinging to our mother’s skirts, trying to hide from everyone around him.
The sound of Bank’s Harley rolling up out front pulled me from that memory and by the time he’d dropped the bags of stuff at the bathroom door and joined us, I knew what I had to do.
Rapping my knuckles on the table, I waited for Mac to look me in the eye.
“You want me to come back to Texas with you? Well, I’ll do it, but only if we take her with us as well.”
Mac could take the girl home to his wife and I’d stay at their clubhouse. That way, I limited the risk to his family, and that girl crying in the bathroom because she had a bag of new shit from fucking Walmart would have a nice fucking life. I vowed I would see that girl have a better life than either Josefina or I ever had.
CHAPTER TWO
Veronica
After checking each window and door of my small house was locked—twice—I made my way out the side door to the attached garage. Before starting my car, I pulled my phone out and checked the feed from the cameras I’d set up around the outside of my home. Once I was certain no one was anywhere near the front of the house, I hit the button to lift the garage door, started the engine and drove forward. I stayed in the driveway, watching everything going on up and down the street as I waited for the garage door to close again.
Once it shut, I headed to the hospital for my shift. At least once I was within the hospital I could relax. Security was tight, and I knew if I got in trouble all I had to do was call out and I’d have all the help I needed.
At work I was safe. No way would he be able to get to me here. But on the drive in was another story. Every car I didn’t recognize had my heart rate speeding up and my paranoia reaching epic proportions.
I was used to the routine, though. For the seven years I’d been living in Bridgewater, I’d done the same thing. Always vigilant. Always careful. It was a lonely way to live, and there were times when it got to me. Whenever it got too bad, I’d head out with two of the other nurses, Sophie and Laura, to Styx—the local bar—to have a few drinks and ogle all the hot biker eye candy none of us would ever be brave enough to try to touch. One of the older nurses, Donna, was married to one of those bikers we ogled. Even though Keys had to be in his sixties now, he was still a damn fine looking man. A little rough around the edges, but life did that to a person. I wouldn’t trust someone who didn’t have a few scars by the time they’d made it that far through life. And I was sure the external ones weren’t the only ones he’d have. Heaven knows I had more scars on my soul than anywhere else.
Relief poured through me as I made my way through the hospital’s doors. It was always like that. And as I took my first deep breath of the day, I made my way toward the staff locker room to drop my bag off and get ready to start my shift in the ER.
Bridgewater was your typical mid-sized Texan town and had the usual daily injuries. The Charon MC, the bike club that ran the town, kept it mostly clean, so thankfully drug-related shit wasn’t common. Although there were a few patients we saw who clearly had an issue with prescription drugs, the illegal kind didn’t make an appearance very often at all. That suited me just fine. My first nursing position had been in Dallas and I’d learned fast that drugs made people extremely unpredictable and very fucking hard to treat.
I’d lasted about five years there, but then I’d seen one of his men in the ER and knew I hadn’t gone far enough from home. I’d made sure he hadn’t seen me and as soon as he was gone, I handed in my notice and started looking for a job in a smaller town, that was further away.
It’d been nearly twenty years since I’d seen him, but I’d never stopped looking over my shoulder. Never let my guard down. Because I knew, deep down, I was certain the moment I let my guard down, he’d be there, waiting for me.
With a sigh, I pushed those thoughts aside before I got lost in my past, closed my locker and headed out to start my work day. Everything about the morning was utterly normal, until he came in. Flanked by two men wearing Charon MC vests, the most beautifully broken man I’d ever laid eyes on came in to the ER’s waiting room. I wasn’t sure if the bikers were his friends or his guards, but the man didn’t look happy.
The trio came up to the desk and Rhonda took his information. I was close enough to overhear. He had burns that needed checking and redressing. I rushed forward so I could be the nurse in charge of his case.
I grabbed the board, skim reading what Rhonda had written in case I hadn’t caught everything he’d said before I walked out into the waiting room.
“Mr. Walker?”
He stood, along with the bikers, and I held up palm up. “Just Mr. Walker.”
The bikers both looked to Mr. Walker with a raised eyebrow and when he nodded, they both sat back down, getting as comfortable as two big guys could in the small plastic chairs the hospital had installed in the waiting room. Guess they were friends, then. Either way, I didn’t need two huge men taking up space back in the treatment bays. I turned and strode over to the doors into the ER, not needing to check if Mr. Walker was following me, because I could feel his presence behind me the entire way.
“Take a seat on the bed and let’s get this ball rolling.” In one, smooth move, he slid his lean frame up onto the bed until he was sitting on the edge of it, facing me. His crystal blue irises that were so filled with pain caught my gaze, and for a minute I was struck mute and dumb. I’d never seen such arresting blue eyes before. What would they look like heated with lust? Or laughter? Agony was currently reflected in those pretty baby blues and my chest ached in response. Which had me frowning as I looked away, breaking the connection between us. What the fuck was wrong with me? Hopefully it was just an indicator that I was overdue for a girls’ night out. I’d never had, or wanted, a boyfriend. I’d seen what a man could do when he thought he owned a woman. That shit wasn’t for me.
I cleared my throat and forced myself back on task.
“So, you had a whoops with a fire, huh?”
He gave me a nod and a smirk that I did not find sexy. Not at all.
“Yeah, I was over in California. Was a little late evacuating and got caught. Got lucky and just have some burns on my right arm.”
He
was shrugging out of his button down shirt before I could ask anything else. Doing my best to ignore the glorious sight of his muscles rippling beneath the tight tank that stretched across his torso, I peeled the previous dressings from his wounds carefully, grateful when they didn’t stick at all.
“How many days ago did you receive the injury?”
“Three days. I went straight to hospital after it happened. When I got released, I came to stay with some friends here. The nurse in L.A. told me to come in to get the burns checked after a couple days, so here I am.”
I gave him a nod as I took a good look at his burns. They were healing well, but still had a ways to go.
“Do you need to wear long sleeved shirts for work?”
He gave me a suspicious frown. “I don’t understand why you need to know that.”
I nodded toward his arm. “It’s healing well, and if you can stick to wearing tanks, it won’t need another dressing, but if you’re going to keep wearing button downs like the one you have on now, I’ll redress it so it won’t stick to your clothing if any of those blisters burst on you.”
His big body relaxed and his expression cleared. “You’d best redress it. Does that mean I get to come in and see you again to redo the dressings?”
With a grin, I shook my head at his flirty tone. It was nothing unusual to have patients try to charm me, but it was a first that I was affected by it. There was something about the sorrow in this man’s eyes that had drawn me in the moment I’d looked into them.
“I’m sure you can handle it from here. Just head into a pharmacy to get another burn dressing if you need to redo things. Leave it open to the air as much as you can. Give nature a chance to do its thing.”
It was a few minutes later, as I was taping down the last edge of the new bandages, that he reached out with his good hand and touched me. My entire body went stiff and on alert, my breath stuttered as his fingertip lightly traced over my cheek, tucking a lock of hair that had escaped my bun behind my ear before his hand dropped away from me. I licked my lips, trying to get my heart rate to lower and my fucking brain to start working again.
