“Everyone’s got something to hide. Something they’re ashamed of.”
“Even you?”
Jem gave a short laugh. “Brother, my shit’s on the table for everyone to see. I’ve got a crazy family tree, dressed with a dose of mean as shit, addiction sprinkled in for good measure. That’s the great thing about being nuts. You scare people just by being you.”
On the surface, Jem appeared to be a fun-loving good old boy without a care in the world, one who talked a good game about being crazy.
Guy was fucking nuts. Gunner had seen him take point on missions. He was a wild man, took chances no sane person would ever take—or want to. That was the true sense of crazy, that it would live right next to you and you’d never know it.
Crazy always had the element of surprise.
“You think Donal sees me as some kind of rival?”
“As good a theory as any,” Jem said.
“Mike’s been able to track him down?”
“Never. He only knew about him because he talked to someone who knew Landon’s father. Then he pulled the birth certificate.”
“I know as well as anyone what happens when a guy disappears.”
“If anyone can find him, it’s someone who knows how to bury himself. Between you and Mike . . .”
Gunner shook his head.
“Gotta face them at some point.” Jem’s voice softened. “They helped you. They don’t fucking blame you.”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“Fuck, Gunner, I don’t even blame my parents and they were the biggest jackasses on the planet. But yeah, I’m sure they thought about blaming you. I’m guessing they’re over it, since they’re the ones who helped us get you back. They’ve always known where you were.” Jem shook his head as Drea poked her head out from behind the curtain.
“Is it okay?” she asked, motioning to where they sat.
“Please, yes.” Gunner stood, waited for her to move closer. “How bad is it?”
“If it doesn’t infect, she’ll be okay in two weeks. Not great, but okay. She can’t do anything for herself until the cuts start to close—give it three days at the least. They were deep enough to scar, but whoever did this knew exactly where and how to cut to create maximum scarring and blood loss without hitting any internal organs or arteries.”
Gunner could only nod, his fists tightening with anger.
“She’ll be all right, but she’s in a lot of pain.”
“I heard the whole thing when it happened. I couldn’t get to her, but I had to be with her.”
Drea blanched. “I’m sorry. But she’s strong. Even so, she’ll need to talk to someone about the attack. And I mean someone besides you.”
“I hear you, Doc.”
“She needs to eat. I’ve got an IV running, but the sooner you can get food into her, the better,” Drea told him. Jem handed him the bag he’d grabbed from the diner. Pure comfort foods, and Gunner took it and left the two of them alone to sort the rest of the shit out.
He got why it might be easier to let a total stranger help her. She was more worried about his welfare than hers, and that made him want to strangle Landon in the middle of the police station and make sure it was televised.
He’d already allowed the man to lie to him about fucking with the people he’d loved.
You believed a criminal and you’re surprised that he lied to you.
“I’ll get him, Avery. If it’s the last thing I do,” he told her sleeping form quietly as he sat on the chair next to the bed.
She looked so small lying under the covers, but she wasn’t as pale as she’d been. Her bare shoulder poked out from under the sheet and he drew the covers up over it. She shifted, her eyes still closed, her hand reaching out to find his. When he took her palm in his, she tugged, wanted him next to her. He moved the covers so they’d stay between them but not pull on her bandages, and he crawled in next to her.
Chapter Eighteen
Drea had loosened her hair. It hung halfway down her back in tawny waves. Her eyes were lazy, amber, lioness eyes. She moved like one too, an easy predatory lurk that he liked to watch, and if it had been any other situation but this, Jem would’ve already hit on her.
Correction, he’d have already been sleeping with her.
“You’re going to have to stay,” he said when she started to grab her jacket. His chair was already halfway blocking the door, and his weapon was held loosely in his lap, not for her so much as anyone who tried coming in. But the effect wasn’t lost on her.
She dropped the jacket back onto the chair and her bag to the floor.
“Don’t be like that, Drea. I got you some food.”
“Oh, food in exchange for being kidnapped. Awesome. And my friends call me Drea. You can call me Andrea,” she told him.
“Guess you told me.”
“What do you expect?”
He shrugged. “I’d expect you’d want to stay with your patient and make sure she’s okay.”
“I could be across the street working on other patients and come back here in two minutes if there’s a problem.”
“You could also call the police, and I can’t chance that.”
“I thought you said you were one of the good guys.”
“We’re often misunderstood. Sometimes it’s hard to tell us apart from the bad guys.” He shrugged. “Besides, you checked out for the night, remember?”
“Give the man points for being attentive.” She sat and accepted the food and coffee he put in front of her. After a couple of bites of the turkey club, a few fries and some caffeine, she looked slightly more relaxed. “She’s going to be okay.”
“I know.”
“What happened to her?”
“Beyond the obvious? A sick bastard wants to make that guy pay for being alive.” He motioned to Gunner, who was sleeping next to Avery, a hand on her arm.
“That’s why he kept her alive,” she murmured.
“Pretty much. Look, Andrea, by this time tomorrow, your life will be back to normal and you can forget all about us. I’ll make sure the clinic gets a good donation for your time.”
He wanted to ask her why she was working at a clinic rather than a hospital, but he didn’t need to get involved any more than he already was.
“Avery’s going to need counseling. You know that, right?”
“I heard you talking to her. You sound like you’ve had some experience in this, Doc,” he drawled. He blew smoke out the open window. His weapon was held loosely on his thigh as he kept an eye out for any disturbances in the force.
“Would that matter to you?”
“Maybe.” He leaned forward. “I hope I’m not dragging up bad memories for you.”
“Really? Now you have a conscience?”
“Only a quarter of the time. Keeps my life much simpler.”
She dipped a fry in ketchup, paused before eating it. “I don’t buy that at all. I’m betting there are things that keep you up more nights than don’t.”
“In this game, there’s always something burrowing in your brain, refusing to let go.”
“Like?”
“Like . . . what if you play the game like you’ve got nothing to lose, but you end up losing something big? Is that worth it?”
“Let me know when you find the answer.” She ate in silence for a few more minutes, then asked, “What do you guys do that makes you the good guys?”
“You takin’ a survey?”
“I’m trying to figure out if I should hate you or not,” she countered. And yeah, he really liked her.
“We help innocent people. And sometimes we get caught in the cross fire. Speaking of.” He pulled her cell phone out of his pocket. “Is there anyone you need to call? Anyone who’ll worry?”
She stared at the phone, and her face flushed. At first, he thought it was anger that he’d gone through her bag and taken her phone without her noticing. He also had her wallet but figured now wasn’t the time to tell her so.
“There’s no one,” she s
aid quickly.
“You’re sure?”
She pushed the unfinished food away. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
“You’re not close to your family?”
“Are you?”
“To my brother. I consider those two family. Couple of others. The group’s small but worth it.”
She drank more of her coffee. “Are you really going to let Avery go after the guy who did that to her?”
“With Avery, let isn’t exactly the right word. I don’t think there’s any way to stop her. But she won’t be alone.” He shoved Drea’s phone back into his pocket. He’d already gone through it, made a copy of the information he’d found, just in case. “Do you need any other supplies to get her through the night?”
“I’d love a monitor, but it’s probably not necessary. She’s breathing okay and she wouldn’t let me give her much in the way of drugs.”
“No, I’d expect she wouldn’t have. White-knuckling it seems to be our specialty,” he muttered.
Drea stared at him for a long moment before saying, “It’s an endearing quality, even if I’m here against my will.”
“And you’re sure no one out there’s looking for you?”
“Yeah,” she said, but she was lying. He didn’t push it, because it hadn’t triggered any bells and Jem would go down living and dying by his gut. “Is there anyone out there looking for you?” she countered.
“More than you could hope to count, sweetheart.”
“You like it that way, don’t you?”
“Very much.”
“I think you’re crazy,” she told him.
“Like I don’t have papers from the nuthouse to prove that, sweetheart.” He took a long drag from the cigarette, blew the smoke out the half-open window that gave him a clear view into the lot. Gun and Avery were sleeping peacefully, and he’d let them remain that way until night. Then they’d move the hell out of Tennessee.
He felt his phone buzz, knew it was Dare or Key demanding explanations as to why he was bringing them in. Not answering them would piss them off and get them here faster, both of which he was in favor of. The shit had officially hit the fan, and the blowback was already a killer.
He’d told Key to find them a secure location, scout it out and leave him a coded message. He’d already ditched the truck and found another while Drea was working and Gunner was watching to make sure she didn’t run.
Now he typed Drea’s name into his laptop and came up basically empty. Which meant one of two things on an initial search—either she completely shunned social media and had no friends or she wasn’t who she said she was.
But she was a practicing doctor—that wasn’t something a clinic would allow her to fake, not even a clinic here.
He was about to go further into his search when Drea put her coffee down on the table and he felt her eyes boring into him. He glanced up, raised his brows.
“She almost died and you’re tapping away on the Internet. I don’t get it.”
“Didn’t ask you to.” And, yes, he was definitely running a search, because she was trying to distract him from it.
“You’re just . . . Is everything so easy for you to shrug off?”
Even though he knew what she was doing, it still took him a long minute to push back and swallow back the big burst of anger that threatened, leaned into her and smiled.
“I just heard one of the best friends I’ll ever have, one of the best women I’ve ever met, get tortured,” he said with a bluntness he knew didn’t match the smile. “I’ll never be the same.”
And then he moved away from her. “Answer your question, Doctor?”
She tightened her arms around herself and he threw a blanket her way. She pulled it across herself and glanced out the window as a couple of motorcycles rolled by. Loud and proud, their engines rumbled, motorcycle gang members just roaming the town.
She didn’t tear her eyes off them until they’d moved past the clinic and were far enough down the street so they couldn’t be seen. And yeah, there was most definitely a problem here. And fuck it all, Jem knew how to pick them.
“You know them?” he asked.
She turned back to him, like she was pissed he’d caught her. “They come into the clinic sometimes after they’ve been fighting. Usual drunken bar brawl stuff.”
I’ll just bet. “You like your job?”
“I’d better. I have a lifetime of loans to pay off.” She gave a small smile. “It’s all I could remember wanting to do.”
“Good to have goals. Life dreams.”
“Is your job yours?”
“Sweetheart, my life’s goal was to get the hell out from under my parents’ rule and do whatever I wanted. So yeah, for the most part, I got that, aside from a few blips where people try to pretend I’m going to obey them.”
She smiled again. Fuck, he liked her smile. He could tell it was an underused expression of hers and it lit up her eyes.
Her hands were long, slim fingered and nimble. Even though she’d stitched Avery carefully, she’d worked fast. She knew what she was doing. Probably got enough practice with the clinic, judging by the clientele he’d seen in the waiting room.
He wondered if the MC gangs had pulled her into service like he had once too often. It would make sense as to why she wasn’t all that surprised when he’d done it.
“What kind of work is this that gets a woman attacked that personally and viciously?” she asked suddenly. “If this was a government job, you’d already have a doctor on your payroll.”
“It’s not government, but it’s definitely not against the good old U.S. of A. We’ve got standards.” He paused. “We’re specialists. Gunner’s a medic. So far, that’s gotten us through.”
“And when it doesn’t?”
He shrugged. “Try not to dwell on the negative shit.”
“Take me with you,” she said suddenly. And she was completely serious.
“I can’t.”
“Why? You have doctors you kidnap in every city?”
“I just told you, Gunner’s a medic.”
“He can do a lot, but not what I can.”
“True. But you wouldn’t even let me call you by your nickname half an hour ago. Why would you suddenly want to do that?”
“You seem like an impulsive kind of guy yourself,” was her answer.
Chapter Nineteen
It was like waking from the deepest sleep Avery had ever had. It took her several moments to realize where she was . . . to recall what had happened. She was still half numb, but the pain had begun to seep through the edges.
Whatever Drea had given her had taken away dreams, and taken the threat of nightmares with it. She had a feeling they wouldn’t stay away for long, but she was grateful to the doctor.
She knew Gunner was in bed with her. She hadn’t fallen into a full sleep until he’d gotten in next to her. The warmth of his body gave her that final push to nod off.
“Gunner?”
“I’m here, baby,” he told her, his drawl thick with sleep. “I’ve been here the whole time.”
“I know.”
“Do you need more pain meds? Drea left them for you.”
“She’s gone?”
“Yeah.” Gunner paused. “Jem said she asked to come with us.”
“You should let her,” Avery said sleepily. “She needs us.”
“You’re psychic now?”
“I could tell.”
Gunner pressed a hand to her forehead, checking for fever. “You need to eat and drink something.”
Her stomach churned at the thought. “Can’t.”
“At least drink.” The bed rustled and a can of Coke, complete with a straw, was in front of her face.
She did, because she was thirsty. The soda was cold and sugary and went smoothly down her throat, easing the ache she had from holding back her screams for so long.
She closed her eyes to shake away the memory and saw Landon’s face flash in front of her eyes. Heard his laugh. Felt hi
s hands.
Shit. This had to go away.
“You’ll get through this, Avery. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll make sure of it,” Gunner told her.
“You already got me through. All I kept thinking about was you. Being with you. That you’d come get me. And then I’d kill Landon for you. For both of us.”
The bed shifted and Gunner moved around so she couldn’t not look him in the eye. He knelt down by her side of the bed, rather than trying to make her move. “I won’t let you.”
“I already have blood on my hands,” she reminded him.
“Not like that.” He took her hands in his, kissed them. “I’ll never let you have that on your conscience.”
“Landon deserves what’s coming to him, Gunner. My conscience will be just fine.”
He shook his head and she knew what he was thinking. “It was different with my mom.”
“You thought it was going to be,” he said quietly.
“Right now I hate that I told you things.”
* * *
Drea didn’t try to do anything for the rest of the night, especially not talk to him, Jem noted. But she did check on Avery, quietly, not waking either her or Gunner as she did so.
Avery was tough—Jem knew she’d get through it, but Gunner would have to avoid the whole alpha I can fix this shit and just be there for her. This wasn’t the time for Gunner to retreat into medical jargon—it would be too easy for him to distance himself with what had happened, and Jem knew from experience that distance from emotions was bad.
Of course, that was also coming from someone who was way too much in touch with his own.
He shifted, stared out the window again. The bikes were back again, the way they’d been all night. There was a strip of bars down the road, so this could’ve all been a normal, nightly thing, but . . .
But Drea practically went out of her way to remain too casual every time she heard the rumble of the engines. The subtle signs, the shift in her seat while pretending she was just getting comfortable, the avoidance of eye contact . . . the fact that she was more than willing to let a group of strangers who’d kidnapped her take her the hell out of town . . .
“You okay?” he asked for the millionth time, and she nodded. Sipped the Coke and stared at the TV.
Unbreakable s8-2 Page 16
