Expose

by C. D. Breadner

  Knuckles had been put in a different squad car. She hadn't seen him since they shut the door and he locked eyes with her before they pulled away in a squeal of tires. It had upset her to see how furious he was, how worried he seemed to be.

  About her.

  Rose had some time to think about what had happened. Not that any of it felt real. It might as well have been a scene in a TV show. Flashes of the events passed by. Her fear, her revulsion at the man holding her, the one that had come to kill Tank.

  Her hands were splattered slightly with blood. The front of her T-shirt was as well, and she suspected her face might be, too. She wasn't sure, but she might have killed that man.

  Her, Rose Jane Clairborne. Killer.

  She started shaking again, and when the door opened she jumped, giving a slight shriek.

  "It's okay," the blonde woman in uniform assured her, arms out in a gesture of peace, her hands full of coffee cups. There was another officer with her, one that Rose didn't recognize. The woman, she realized then, was the Sheriff.

  "Sorry," she said with a nervous laugh, rubbing her forehead. "I ... I think I might be in shock."

  Downey nodded as she took a seat across the table, setting a coffee in front of Rose. "That's understandable."

  Her hands curled around the Styrofoam cup. It was too hot to drink yet.

  "Now, Ms. Clairborne. We need your help putting together what happened today at the hospital."

  "Is Knuckles okay?" she interrupted, making Downey purse her lips.

  "He's fine."

  "Because those officers beat him up. I don't think that was necessary."

  Downey and this officer shared a look. "Officers Kent and Windsor are no longer employed with us," she said, resting her elbows on the table and clasping her hands in front of herself.

  Rose let that sink in. Interesting.

  "Now, please tell us what happened today at the hospital."

  Rose was torn. She didn’t know how this worked, how she was supposed to conduct herself with the law. Should she be evasive? Refuse to answer? Demand a lawyer? She had blood all over her, they knew what she’d done. And yet she was just another person here. With a sigh she decided there really was nothing to hide. They had been attacked by men with guns, in a hospital of all places. How could any of this be their fault?

  "I was sitting with Tank. Knuckles came in because a nurse gave him flowers, saying they'd been delivered for Tank. But we realized there was no card." Rose frowned then. "That was weird, right? Why wouldn't a nurse just bring them in herself?"

  Downey nodded. "We got a description of the nurse from O'Shay."

  "O'Shay?"

  At that Downey's lip twitched, almost smiling. "Sorry. Knuckles."

  "Oh." Her face warmed. "I don't think I knew his last name."

  "Don't worry about it. They only respond to their road names anyway. But he had the same revelation you did—the nurse is suspicious, so we'll check the security tapes from the hallway, see if there's anyone that matches his description. Then what happened?"

  Rose settled her hands around the coffee cup again. "Umm, we were talking, and then the door closed. That's when I realized we weren't alone. Two men came in. One went for Knuckles right away, like he was there specifically to try and knock him out. I didn't see much of what happened. The other guy grabbed me, he had me pinned against him." Almost like it was happening again her palms grew damp and her heart started a light jog, not quite racing but definitely working harder. "I was scared. I froze in place, I was sure he was going to hurt me. But when he brought the gun up and pointed it at Tank ..."

  Like a cold jolt the anger came back, chasing away the nerves. "I lost it. I stepped on his foot, hard. It hurt, and he doubled over. I think I broke his arm over my leg. That's when he dropped the gun. He hit me, but I didn't fall. When I realized he was going after the gun. That he really meant to kill Tank, I jumped on his back. We fell. And I ..." she swallowed then licked her lips. She could hear it now. Feel the reverberations of the ground making contact with the man's skull, the shock waves that ran up her arms. "I hit his face into the floor until he stopped moving."

  Story told, she looked up, and both officers were staring at her, their faces devoid of emotion. Slowly Downey nodded twice. "So, where were you when the man first pointed the gun at Tank?"

  Rose frowned. "I was next to the bed. He had me held against him, my back to his chest, arm around my stomach. I was trying to push his arm off—"

  "And which hand was the gun in?" Downey's tone was completely official now.

  "His left hand. We were on the right side of the bed."

  "Was he the one that shut the door, or was it the one who was fighting with Knuckles?" This from the other officer.

  Rose frowned again, blinking and recalling the sequence. "No, the one holding me was the one that shut the door. Like I said, the other one went right for Knuckles."

  "Did you notice if he'd locked the door?" Downey again. Rose was feeling dizzy from the way they were jumping topics all over.

  Rose shook her head. "I can't say. I don't think he did but ... I was surprised anyone was there. Maybe fearful because I didn't recognize either of them."

  "When you jumped on the man's back, did you intend to kill him?" Downey's question hit her like a ram to the gut.

  "What?"

  "When you first jumped on that man's back, did you want to kill him?"

  The room was quiet. She was sure they could hear her blink. "All I knew was he couldn't get to the gun. I knew we'd be dead if he did."

  "What did he say to you that made you think he meant to hurt you?" the male officer asked.

  Again she had to rewind, replay the events in her head. "He said I was just another Red Rebel gash. That once Tank was dead we'd ... have some fun."

  "What did you think that meant?"

  She stared the man straight in the eye. "I took it to mean he meant to rape me. I know the word gash."

  "Did you who he was affiliated with?"

  Rose's attention went back to Downey. "No. But I wasn't paying attention to patches or anything like that. I just knew they weren't Red Rebels."

  "They didn't identify themselves Mad Gypsys?" The man sounded like he didn't believe it.

  Rose shrugged. "No. They didn’t introduce themselves. Who are the Mad Gypsys?"

  Downey and her officer shared a look.

  "Did the man fighting with Knuckles say anything?" the younger officer inquired.

  They're trying to confuse me, she realized. They're making sure I'm not covering something up. Not that she and Knuckles had any time to come up with a different story.

  But what if he'd lied about something?

  Her palms were sweating again. "I didn't hear anything," she replied calmly. "Like I said, I was terrified. The second that man grabbed me, I froze. I couldn't move." Her hand ran across her forehead. "Ever since my attack at the club I've had moments where I just can't move, can’t take action to stop what's happening. It's fear. I just ... stop everything, waiting for the worst." She brought her eyes up to Downey. "But that went away when he pointed a weapon at Tank. I couldn't let anyone hurt him."

  The three of them sat silently. Then Downey patted the officer on the arm. "Give us a minute," she muttered.

  "Sheriff?"

  "Please, wait outside." There was nothing to Downey that made that sound like a harsh order, but the officer nodded and stood anyway, leaving the room without another glance her way. Rose took the chance to try the coffee. It was weak, but it would do.

  The door shut and Rose swallowed a second gulp before setting the cup down.

  "Did you freeze when that pretentious little shit grabbed you at the club? The night Tank knocked him out?"

  Rose's mouth worked like a goldfish for a moment, then Downey smiled.

  "Don't worry. This is me being terribly unprofessional, but that's the way of the world. Or so it seems." The woman leaned in on her elbows, feeling as much a cop as Rose was
all of a sudden. "I asked Martin to leave so we can really talk. He's from Bakersfield, but he had grandparents from Markham. He knows how this town works." Downey chewed her lip, her eyes skirting over Rose's curiously. "I believe you, every word you said. You can relax, Rose. You're not in trouble, neither is Knuckles. Two armed men walked into a busy hospital and tried to kill a man. Relationships and prejudices can't exist; that's what happened officially. You and Knuckles defended a friend who couldn't fight for himself. This is all just to show we did our due diligence."

  "Oh." She was operating on a one-word capacity now. Brilliant.

  "However, one of those men did die. And he is not a man with very nice friends, as you know." Now Downey's face grew serious. "I believe you when you say the club hasn't mentioned the Gypsys lately, within your hearing. I'm curious to know why, since they attacked Gertie and shot Trinny. The club normally wouldn't let these assholes skate on showing up in Markham, never mind the rest of it. But my curiosity isn't your problem either. I'm just going to suggest caution. Keep an eye out for the Mad Gypsys. I've seen what they do to women they need for a reason. I can't imagine what they'd do to one just for revenge."

  Rose swallowed hard. Those were the same men that hurt Gertie, she knew it.

  "I'm not trying to scare you. But the Rebels will assure you you're safe in that balls-to-the-wall way they have. But don't let it completely soften you, and don't be walking around in a haze of misplaced trust. You've killed a member of a dangerous MC, you need to know what that might mean. Yeah, they'll take care of you because you're Tank's woman. I'm just asking you also make sure to take care of yourself."

  With that the Sheriff got to her feet and headed for the door. Before Rose could ask anything else, Downey turned back. "You're free to go. I can get Martin to take you back to the hospital. They've moved Tank to a different room, I'm told."

  Rose nodded. "Okay. Sure."

  Chapter Forty

  There was never the sense he was alone. Like a dream where you knew someone was watching—that was what he felt. Tank could sense the surface of consciousness, he just couldn't breach it.

  Until one day, out of the blue. There was a voice, a familiar one, carrying on a one-sided conversation, from the sounds of it. He liked it; the sound of that voice was comforting. He knew who it was.

  Something brushed his arm. He became aware of his body suddenly, acknowledging that he even had an arm, like he'd somehow forgotten about it. Whatever was touching him was tickling him, running fingers up and down. It gave him a shiver, and seemed familiar as well.

  The horizon he couldn't seem to reach was suddenly there, and with a surge he broke through, now fully aware that he was in bed. He was half sitting up, and along with the fingers on his arm something else brushed over his skin before resting on it.

  It took effort but he peeled his eyelids apart. Thank Christ it wasn't too bright. The room was actually quite dim, and a door to the left of the foot of the bed was open. It was brighter beyond it, but not by much. A person passed by but he only got the impression of a white coat before they were gone again. Hospital. The word came to him, and the beeping noises around him made sense.

  Whatever was resting on his left arm shifted slightly and he had to turn his head. A grin broke through, his brain awash with memories again that made him want to chuckle, but he didn't trust his throat.

  Resting on the crook of his left elbow was a dark mess of wild, curly hair. He knew that hair, he'd felt it tickle various interesting parts of his body. And the hand running up and down the inside of his arm was familiar too. He'd felt it many times, he’d sought that touch before.

  Rose.

  She was chattering away and he struggled to catch what she was saying.

  "No idea where I'm going to put my stuff, but I can't afford that apartment. I might have to move into the dance studio." She laughed softly. "Wouldn't that be a bit extreme? But Jayce said I could stay in your room at the hotel as long as I needed to. That was nice of him. I didn't expect that."

  He picked his right hand up off the bed, then frowned at the weight. Looking down, he took in the white cast wrapped around his hand and had a heart-dropping moment of clarity.

  The arrest. Those pricks jumping him in the station. And now he was in the hospital with a crushed hand.

  Fuck, that needs to heal. I need to ride again.

  Rose's hand slid down into his left one and he rested the cast back on the bed. She hadn't noticed the movement. When her palm flattened on his, he closed his fingers around hers tightly.

  She gasped and sat up, staring at the their hands in amazement. That was when he did chuckle, and her wide eyes came up to his face.

  They'd fought, he remembered. She'd been scared of him and left him at the club. But she was here now, obviously after hours, and tears were welling up in her eyes when she saw he was awake.

  "Tank!" she exclaimed, the loudest thing he'd heard in a while. She flung herself at his torso, leaning over the bed and all but climbing up onto it to hug him. He chuckled again, bringing up the cast to hug her best he could. "English," he muttered, or ... he tried to. His mouth opened, lips moved and nothing happened so he tried again. "English." Okay, that time it worked. Thank Christ, but what the hell?

  "Cowboy. Christ I've missed you!" If she noticed he sounded weird, it didn't show. Her face was pressed into the side of his neck, hands doing their best to hold him around his shoulders.

  "I ... miss ... you too." Fuck. Something wasn't right here.

  She pulled back, tears running down her smooth cheeks as she smiled at him. One hand rested on his cheek and he leaned into it, closing his eyes.

  "I'm sorry I was so stupid," she whispered, kissing him quickly and pulling back. "We're never going to be apart again. Or, at least, not because of a stupid reason like that. I swear it. I'm sorry. I love you."

  Fuck, that required an equal reaction. He opened his eyes and took her in, sighing. So gorgeous. All his. There was no way he had this kind of luck. "Love ... you." It was a fight, each syllable. He frowned. "Love ... Rose."

  She took a deep breath, something changing in her face. "Cowboy? What's wrong?"

  "Talking ... not working." That wasn’t what he'd really wanted to say, but that was what came out. He tried to tell her that he was trying to talk, but it wasn't working right. He knew the words. He said them, he'd swear to it. But what was coming out of his mouth was halted, partial and slow-sounding.

  Her thumbs ran along his cheekbones. "Don't worry," she whispered, giving him another kiss. "You don't have to talk. You need to heal, sweetheart."

  There was a flare of panic and he shook his head. "Wrong. Something."

  "Cowboy, calm down. You just woke up. You had a bad concussion, love. Give it time." Her smile was so sweet. It did calm him down, made him bring his hand up to rest on her back, rubbing up and down. Fuck, he could touch her. That meant a lot.

  He put pressure on her back and she leaned in with a knowing smile, pressing her lips to his softly. He moaned, and that came out right, at least. Her lips were so warm brushing over his, and when she increased the pressure, he pushed his tongue forward, sliding past her teeth, tasting her and all the sweetness that was still there. She moaned that time, her tongue sliding along his in welcome. His next noise was a more familiar growl, his body completely functioning as normal. His cock twitched, then he hissed. Shit, it hurt.

  “What’s wrong?” she was asking as he pushed the blankets down and pulled his gown up.

  “Fuck,” he said, no problem with that word coming out. A fucking catheter—

  “Oh,” she whispered, and he caught her eye as she gave a cute smile. “I’m sorry babe. I didn’t know—”

  “It’s okay,” he mumbled, bringing her closer. “Just … stay. Okay?”

  She nodded, covering him back up carefully before snuggling into his side. He tried to get his cock to calm down by breathing steady, and trying to keep his brain from panicking that he might not be able
to talk normally.

  As he was contemplating sounding like a simpleton the rest of his life a form came to the door wearing a white coat over blue scrubs.

  "Mister Williams," the doctor said jovially, approaching his bedside. "You're with us." Then he looked down his nose at Rose. “Although, you’d do well to take it easy while you’re recovering.”

  That look of disapproval caused her to scurry off the bed with a hushed apology, then she scooted back to her chair. She looked amused and he was trying not to chuckle himself. Getting in trouble for having a girl in his bed, at his age. It was laughable.

  The doc checked his eyes, shining a light into each one, which hurt, but it wasn't too much to handle. Then the doctor asked him how he was feeling.

  Tank knew pretending did nothing, and as much as it chafed him to admit it, he was scared, and it was in his voice as he tried to talk. "Can't ... talk." He frowned at how hard this was to do. "Slow." The fear grew bigger and the doctor frowned in a concerned way. Tank shook his head and said the first clear thing he'd been able to say since waking up. "Something's wrong."

  Chapter Forty-One

  Jennifer, Brandi and Gloria had left Markham about one week before Tank woke up. Rose couldn't really blame them, since they'd only intended to be there so long in the first place. And once she lost her apartment there was nowhere for them to stay, anyway.

  Jayce offering her Tank's room had been a real surprise, and he seemed a bit offended when she asked if he was sure. "Of course. And if I don't take care of you the big guy's going to kick my ass when he wakes up."

  They'd helped her move the essentials into his room, notably her regular, everyday clothes. Her "work" clothes had been moved into storage, and Jayce had told her not to expect to pay for that, either. She'd have been happy to get rid of all of it, but he was the one that convinced her to keep it. "For Tank," he added with a wink.

  She'd moved her clothes into half of his dresser and closet, and then she'd gone right back to Tank's bedside.