From far away, he heard DeeDee say, “It’s okay, Gunny. I’m good. You can be in or out, but let’s close the door. Sounds like we’ll need a little privacy for this chat.” DeeDee gave him a calm look over the girl’s shoulder, not trying to direct him, but openly asking for his patience.
He frowned at Shar, noting, not for the first time, the beauty, dignity, and poise she exuded. Even standing in the office of a strip club with a black-leather clad biker at her back and a growing bruise on her face, she looked calm and collected, her bargain-bin clothes draping her frame as if they were designer label. So different from the rest of the dancers here, she moved like class and looked like class, like the pretty girls from Baton Rouge, and he wanted…
Keeping his one hand on her bicep, he put his other on her back and gently moved her farther into the room, pushing the door closed with his foot. Having both his hands on her amplified the feeling of being…centered…whole. He inhaled again, saw her shoulders relax slightly as she breathed along with him. Reluctantly removing his hands, he folded his arms across his chest to keep from touching her again, scowling down at the back of her head. What is it about this chick that makes me…what? Want? Feel?
Making a good effort at ignoring the wall of muscles and leather looming behind her, Shar raised her eyes to meet DeeDee’s in what looked like a definite plea, but Gunny didn’t have the first clue about what. He hoped DeeDee had been paying attention, because he had questions of his own since the girl had used a name they hadn’t known about.
“So, tell me. Shar Elkins becomes Sharon Spencer, how?” DeeDee’s opening gambit made the girl recoil, even as it reinforced his faith in her. DeeDee was a smart cookie, and given her and Hoss’ distrust of what they knew about Shar, he knew she was intuitive enough to press on this tidbit.
“Elkins is my married name.” The girl tossed her hair over her shoulder, wincing with the movement. The shift in stance exposed the side of her face, and he could better see the large, dark bruise covering her temple and spreading across her cheek. It would take a hell of a hit to leave that mark, he thought, feeling his arms tensing with building anger.
“Is Spencer your maiden name then? Or from a different marriage?” DeeDee’s question was quietly stated, and Gunny nearly shouted with frustration because he didn’t give a fuck about names after all. He was struggling to stay silent, knowing he should let the women keep talking, give Shar a chance to say what she had come in to say, to explain what she needed to communicate. But, on top of the pain in her stance and on her face, there was a frightened undercurrent of emotions flooding the room, and he needed to understand what was going on right the fuck now. Someone had put their hands on her, and now she was trying to leave a place she should know was safe. Why? She dances through her fear, is this what she dreaded seeing in the crowd? Is this what she’s been running from? What waited in the shadows for her?
“It’s my maiden name. Missus Moser, I wanted…I’m sorry. I thought I needed to tell you face-to-face I can’t work here after all.” As she spoke, some of the composure bled out of Sharon’s face, a miserable, defeated look settling there in its place. She was giving up something she wanted a fuck of a lot, because of whoever had hurt her. Fuck if I’ll let her do that, he thought. She deserves more.
Because DeeDee was watching the girl so closely, he knew she almost overlooked the instant he realized what he was seeing through Shar’s clothing was bruising—not a tattoo and not shadows. As if he would have missed seeing and noting the location of a tattoo given his scrutiny of her at every opportunity. This was brutal bruising, she was marked all to fuck and back. And, when he looked closer at her back, he recognized the whirls of dark color across the top of her shirt was not ink in the material. Dark, saturated sweeps of fabric, it was wet with the blood trickling down from her hairline.
DeeDee nearly missed the moment he grasped the extent of the damage…the nature of the injuries on Sharon’s body. But, she didn’t, and her study of his reactions was intense but discrete. Without knowing exactly what it was, she still knew something disastrous was happening. He could read the concern in her gaze and felt the already deep frown on his face deepening even more. The muscles across his shoulders tightened again, and the leather of his cut creaked audibly in the room.
“Shar, you came to me for the job; it was not something I pressured you into. You auditioned and then pestered me for days to make a decision. Sure made it seem like something you wanted. It’s all on you, and I certainly won’t try to force you to stay. If you want to quit, then you are free to leave, but with no reference. I’d like to think you owe me an explanation, though. I want to understand why you’re leaving, after all the energy you poured into getting this job.” Sitting quietly, she waited for the girl to talk to her.
“I just…I just can’t work here is all—” Tears choked her voice as she began, and then Gunny spoke, interrupting her. Enough with the pussyfooting around, he thought, the fury inside him demanding to know who had laid hands on his girl.
“Who hit you, girl?” His voice came out in a rumbling growl he didn’t remember ever using before, but the bruises and blood he saw, paired with the fear in her face and posture, was torturing him. “Who fucking hit you?”
Shar recoiled at his first words, turning her face away to avoid a blow which would never land, not in this office, and under no circumstances from him. “What? No! No one hit me.” Ducking her head to avoid their eyes, the look on her face told them she knew her actions didn’t support her words. Gunny took a step forward, crowding up behind the girl without touching her. He topped her height by nearly a foot, her head barely reaching as high as his chin.
“I felt you flinch, both at my hand on your arm and on your back. Your hair don’t hide shit. You took a hell of a hit to the face, and from where I’m standing, I can see the bruising on your back through your goddamned, fucking shirt, girl. You also got blood in your hair, making itself known. So, don’t you try to tell me nothing’s happened to you. Don’t you fucking lie to me.” He leaned in, standing so close to her, still without daring to touch her again. “Who. Hit. You? A customer?” I’ll kill the motherfucker, he thought, impatiently waiting for her response.
“No! No, not a customer. They’re…nice. Not a customer. But he…I can’t…he won’t let me work here.” Her chin quivered, and then he watched as Shar set her teeth into her bottom lip, eyes closed, holding onto her composure with the most tenuous of grips.
DeeDee lifted her gaze, clearing her throat to pull his attention to her, meeting his stare over Shar’s shoulder, and he nodded, correctly reading that she wanted a few minutes alone with the girl. It was fine with him, but he needed to remind DeeDee they wouldn’t have privacy, not really, because he would hear every word. Thank God for Myron and his toys, he thought.
“DeeDee, I’m going to step outside, but I ain’t going anywhere. I want to hear the truth.” He saw her nod, and without another word, turned on his heel and left the room, but settled his bulk against the door, effectively blocking the entrance. Doing so made the unspoken statement to them both that no one would enter or leave the room without going through him first.
Through his earpiece came the scrape of a chair, and he knew DeeDee had stood and was probably walking towards Shar…Sharon.
He remembered nights lying on a corn shuck mattress stretched across a woven rope bed, hearing the groan of the floorboards as his granny walked, pacing back and forth through the darkness inside their small shotgun house. Her Bible in one hand, and a closely shuttered hurricane lantern in the other, she would read for hours, carefully flipping pages with one thumb, mouth moving almost soundlessly as she recited verses. Her favorites were in the book of Solomon. Solomon’s love songs, she called them, written about a bride and groom. Rose of Sharon, the Lily of the Valley.
Rose of Sharon.
The couch cushions creaked and he closed his eyes, using the darkness to picture them seated side-by-side. In his mind, he saw DeeDee
settling the two of them on it, leaning back and snuggling the girl into her side, head on her shoulder. Without speaking, she would gently stroke Sharon’s hair, maybe sigh when the tension began to leave the girl’s muscles bit-by-bit as she relaxed into the comforting embrace. He was anxious, because it seemed to take a long fucking time, but he finally heard DeeDee’s voice, asking in a quiet tone, “Boyfriend or husband?”
She let the question hang in the air for long minutes without any accompanying words, seemingly content to wait and carefully not pressure the girl. Sharon’s voice broke the silence, saying, “Husband. Ex-husband, actually.” She gasped with pain, and he imagined she had moved, and winced at the thought of the injuries needed to pull that sound from her mouth. Her voice quavered when she said, “I thought I’d gotten clear.”
Behold thou art fair, my love: behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves’ eyes.
“How did he find you?” DeeDee’s voice was still calm, but he heard the steel threading through it and knew she was as pissed as he was.
“I don’t know. I’ve been flying under the radar, using cash for motels and a friend’s card for the rental. I ditched…everything. Years ago, I cut ties with everything.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “But there he was, standing outside my room at the motel, ready to express his intense displeasure at having to locate me, his unhappiness at having to endure years of my absence, as well as his disappointment in my current career choices.” His hands clenched and released when she choked back a sob, repeating, “I thought I’d gotten clear.”
I sleep, but my heart waketh: it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying Open to me.
“Where is he now?” This was a good question, and he clenched his fists again, waiting for the answer, hoping the motherfucker was near so he could explain how you never, ever raise your hand to a fucking woman.
“In a truck outside. He has all my stuff in his camper, cleaned out my motel room of everything. He found all my money too, eh?” Her voice hitched. Motherfucker was outside the building right now, waiting for a woman who was never going to make her way back to his side. It made Gunny sick to think how closely this had skirted the edges of disaster. Sick to think that if he hadn’t said something, if DeeDee hadn’t been paying attention, the bastard’s self-confidence would have played out, the night ending with Sharon climbing back into the seat beside the fucker who had done this to her, because she didn’t think she had any other choice.
Rose of Sharon.
“Let’s take a look at you, see what we’ve got here, okay?” He heard movement, shifting on the couch, and then the quick draw of a pained breath. DeeDee’s voice was soft and filled with dismay when she said, “Oh, baby. I’m so sorry. This has to hurt you like crazy. Let me call Goose; he can help us out.” He shook his head at the immediate and negative noise from the girl, but before he could move, DeeDee was telling her, “He’s safe. He’s the club’s EMT, okay? Totally safe, sweetheart. Now, I’m going to step outside and call Goose, and then I’m going to talk to Gunny for a minute. You trust Gunny, right?”
He held his breath until Sharon softly responded, “Yeah. I trust him. He’s…yeah.”
My beloved.
DeeDee said, “There you go. Between Gunny and me, we’ll sort this all out. That’s our job. Your job is to stay right here, okay? You’re safe here, baby. Safe as toads.” She repeated even more softly, reassuring the girl, emphasizing each word as she said, “You are safe here.”
There was more movement, and then DeeDee said, “I’ll be right back, honey.” She repeated Hoss’ words from earlier, and they were as true now as then, “We’ve got you. You’re one of us, part of our family. No worries, sweetheart, we’ve got you.”
My heart waketh.
Tapping on the door, she waited for him to open it from outside, catching his gaze and shaking her head, holding a finger to her lips for silence. He tried to look around her, but couldn’t see Sharon…his Rose of Sharon. He reluctantly trailed her when she stepped out and closed the door then motioned for him to follow her over to the bar. Her gaze swept the room and she crooked a finger at a couple of members who had looked up, noticing the activity. She waited for the three men to cluster around her before speaking.
She reiterated what he had already heard, but the look on her face gave her words greater gravity. “Shar’s been beaten. Badly. The man’s name is Elkins, and he’s in the parking lot in a truck with a camper. I’m not sure if it’s a pull-behind or a topper, but he’s got her property and money. He’s an ex, and I’m thinking he didn’t like the ex part of being ex. She is fucked up bad.” She paused, taking a moment to breathe. “Really bad. I’m going to call Goose. Right now, she’s running on adrenaline alone, and is about to crash hard.”
As she spoke, Gunny’s focus narrowed until only one thing mattered, finding this motherfucker and dealing with him in a way that would make it clear Sharon wasn’t his concern any longer. Muscles jerking, he was enraged and as near to out of control as he had ever been from anger. Breaking from her when a soft sob sounded through the earpiece, he swung fast to look at the office door, feeling a smothering of his senses simply knowing there was a barrier between him and Sharon. Without looking away from the door, he spoke to DeeDee, needing clarification before he went hunting outside, asking her in a hard tone, “Exactly how fucked up?”
Guardedly, she said, “I…I think he worked her over with a club, as well as his hands. Every inch of that girl’s skin has been used hard. There is nowhere on her back I could find that isn’t tore up. That’s as far as I got, Gunny. But, by the way she’s moving,” she paused and took a breath, “I suspect we’ll find more…and worse. Plus, she didn’t say it, but you can tell it’s been going on a while. She’s scarred all to hell and back. It’s been going on a fucking long while. I get the whole ‘no nudity’ thing now.” She paused again when he ground out a savage noise, which even to his ears sounded suspiciously feral.
“Gunny, do you think you can get her stuff from him? I’m going to take her home with me; she and I can meet Goose there. When she’s better, it will be good for her to have her own stuff, if we can.” She was always respectful, and never presumed to tell the members what their roles were, but seemed on board with his expectation that the club would deal with Elkins. Right now. Today.
He nodded and said, “Go ahead and call Goose, but don’t move her until I come back inside. I don’t want you coming out in mid-conversation.” He looked around the bar and whistled, calling additional members to his side. Looking down at DeeDee, he wordlessly tipped his head, directing her back towards the office, and she nodded, turning to walk back in and wait.
***
Sharon rested on the couch, absorbing a feeling of safety, along with warmth and comfort from the blanket DeeDee used to cover her. She scoffed at herself, because she hadn’t been this safe and cared for since…forever, and wasn’t it ironic it only came after yet another horrific beating?
DeeDee had come back to the office and now sat beside her, hand softly stroking from hip to thigh and back again. The calmness emanating from her helped smother the fear that had driven Sharon all day, snuffing the panic out like fire deprived of oxygen. She had called the EMT, and then left a message for her boyfriend, making it clear Sharon would be staying with them. Now, together, they waited in silence for Gunny’s return. Sharon found herself dozing, shivering and jerking herself awake dozens of times, gaze darting around the room in renewed fear each time, slowly calming when she recognized DeeDee sitting nearby.
Finally, there was a tap at the door and Gunny stuck his head in, nodding at DeeDee as Sharon picked up her head slightly, feeling woozy at the motion. DeeDee stood, reaching out to help her off the couch. “Let’s go, Shar. You’re going to stay with me for a few days. Here we go, sweetheart. Come on, baby, let me help you up.”
Her muscles had stiffened from inactivity and were now trying to hold onto that stillness with a throbbing grip, so, gritting her teeth, she br
ought her arms up to lever her torso off the couch. She groaned softly as pain washed over her, and at her involuntary noise, the door swung open wide. Startled, she looked up as Gunny paused in the doorway for a moment before taking the two strides to the couch. Wrapping her in the blanket, he gently picked her up, freezing when she hissed at the movement. “Relax into me, girl,” he muttered, the words rumbling in his chest. “I got you.”
When he approached her now, as it had earlier, the fear lodged inside her swelled as it always did just because he was male, but far stronger than alarm was a sense of coming home. Held in his arms, she was peaceful, because she would never have to fear, not while in his presence. He would protect her, would never hurt her. She felt no panic, because with him, she was safe.
He carried her out to a van parked behind the bar and then folded into the back, settling down onto the seat with her still cradled in his arms. The supportive pressure from his arms wrapped around her was comforting, and against his bulk, she felt nearly childlike, as if she were a youth who had fallen asleep riding home in the car and now would need to be carried to bed. She watched his face as he flicked a glance at DeeDee, who had followed them outside, and listened as he grunted instructions to her. “Keys are over the visor; the boys will bring your scoot and her shit. Let’s take our girl home, yeah?”
Safe, she thought. Then his words struck her and she wondered aloud, “Our girl?” Leaning her head against his shoulder, she took a deep breath and began relaxing, even as she sensed him stiffen in response.
***
Even though DeeDee drove slowly and carefully, the ride in the van was still painful, and Shar was glad when she saw the EMT waiting for them at the condo. Still carrying her, Gunny followed him down the hallway to a bedroom, with only a curt word of greeting. He put a knee to the mattress, turning on the bed before leaning his back against the headboard, cradling her in his arms and on his lap. Goose looked a challenge at him, and she felt him shake his head, responding in that vibrating rumble from between gritted teeth, “Can’t set her down yet, man. Don’t fucking ask me to try.” She didn’t understand what he meant, but in her exhaustion was glad he was willing to hold her a while yet.
Gunny (Rebel Wayfarers MC Book 5) Page 9
