Frowning, Goose shook his head, but settled one hip onto the edge of the bed, stilling as he looked at her, obviously running a visual assessment. He introduced himself, gently asking her name and some basic information before querying her directly, “Honey, you want this man gone while I look after you?”
She nearly panicked, fear tightening her muscles painfully as she thought, Oh, God. What if he won’t stay? If he wants to leave me alone? Then she experienced the reassuring rumble from his chest as Gunny growled at the man who had dared suggest he go away. He quieted when she shook her head, slowly relaxing, and she didn’t care they could all see the way her hands were curling into the shirt underneath his leather vest. How she was molding herself into him. He felt like her lifeline.
***
With every additional inch of abused flesh exposed, he knew the strength of the enraged vibe from him intensified until the air was thick with the promise of violence. Sharon shuddered constantly, unending waves of spasms rolling down the muscles of her body. Goose lifted his head, surveying Gunny’s face. They all heard the concern in his voice as he spoke soothingly to the girl while locking eyes over her head with his brother, telling him quietly, “Reel it in, Gun. Come on, man, shut it down. Sit on your shit. I don’t know what’s going on here, but you are not helping her like this.”
Gunny didn’t know why he was reacting the way he was either, but he nodded, trying to tamp down the fury threatening to swamp him as he looked at the damage done to Sharon’s body. Elkins had done a number on her. There were few places on her torso that weren’t bruised or bruising, the range in color giving their private audience of three a glimpse of her horror, knowing her ex must have kept after her for hours.
There was a concentration of marks over her flanks, and she nodded when Goose asked her about blood in her urine. About halfway through the exam, he finally gave her a shot of something for pain, and Gunny sensed her muscles easing, loosening as she fell asleep, her head resting on his chest, having somehow snuggled her way underneath his leather vest.
He watched as smears of red stained the gauze Goose used to clean her, the feelings of helplessness and sickness validated when he caught Goose’s eyes and saw shock had taken up residence there.
Finally—thank God—Goose was done, and DeeDee wrapped a clean sheet around the girl as best she could with Gunny’s arms and body in the way, but he still couldn’t put her down. Not yet.
DeeDee was staring into Gunny’s face as she leaned close, and he bore the weight of her appraisal as his eyelids slid closed. He drew a deep breath, relaxing a little now that the ordeal was over and Goose had moved away. But, he knew she had seen the tension every time the EMT’s hands touched Shar’s skin, how he helplessly ground his teeth when Goose delved between her legs to catalog and repair the damage there.
For the first time in a long time, he was afraid she looked at him as an outsider would, seeing not the man she had grown to know and love, the man who had been friends with her husband…with her, but the man the rest of the world saw, and judged. He was afraid now, after today, that she couldn’t help but see only the outer wrapping, his visible persona. Tall, he was nearly six-foot-five, and held himself so rigidly he appeared nearly as wide. Not soft, he was all hard bones wrapped in strong muscle, and he was big, imposing…frightening, maybe. He knew his face was broad and craggy; his nose broken more than once, each fracture leaving footprints behind in bumps and twists. No stranger to fights, he bore more than one scar, his shaved head hiding nothing from view.
Gently placing her hand on his thigh, she whispered, “Why don’t you lay her down, son? Rest beside her if you need to, but let her stretch out a little.”
He tensed under her hand, and without opening his eyes, he first nodded, but then sighed and slowly shook his head, admitting the truth. “Don’t think I can, DeeDee. Don’t want to wake her, and I can’t let her go.”
Goose spoke from the other side of the bed, the hardness in his voice pulling Gunny’s eyes open. “She won’t wake up, man. I dosed her good. She needs rest—real rest. There’re no bones broken; the bastard saw to that, at least, but she’s dealing with a lot of trauma over large areas of her body. I’ve stitched everything that needed it, but I’m pretty sure she’s got renal contusions on both sides, especially since she saw blood in her piss, and that ain’t anything I can treat, man.
“I’m not entirely convinced she doesn’t have a concussion, but at least it looks like his surprise attack was the only one to her head. Line all that up with the banded bruising, vicious bite marks, vaginal and anal tearing and scarring, and…Jesus, God, he fucked her up. We both know what she really needs is a fucking hospital, but barring that as an option, she at least needs a fuckton of rest to heal. You stay with her if you want, as long as she’ll have you...but, brother, she asks you to leave, you’ll fucking leave, man. No argument, okay? This woman’s been through plenty as it is, and doesn’t need to worry about, or fear, pissing you off, too. Gunny, you have to know this isn’t the first time someone’s been at her, so this shit’s going to be hard enough for her to deal with. Let her rest, man. Lay her down for a bit.”
Recognizing the reason in their arguments, moving slowly, Gunny lifted her off his lap and swung his arms, settling her onto the mattress by his side. She groaned in her sleep, and he froze until she quieted, then sat up on the edge of the bed, toeing off his boots. He stood and took off his cut, draping it over the back of a chair, and then reached to unfasten his belt, eyes flicking to DeeDee when she made an involuntary noise. Seeing the look of disbelief on her face cut through him like a knife and he felt a desolate pain run through his chest. Now certain he had lost her hard-earned trust, he answered the unspoken question with a flash of anger as he ripped the belt from his waist and threw it on the floor. “Not gonna fuck her, goddammit. I just don’t want the buckle to hurt her. My honor, woman. Goddamn. What kind of fucking animal you think I am, DeeDee?”
Without waiting for her answer, pulling his shirt over his head he turned to Goose, the two men motionless as they exchanged a look. What had gone down in the parking lot earlier wasn’t nearly enough payment for what the man had done to Sharon. My Rose of Sharon. Elkins needed to be put to ground, and he wanted to make sure Goose was on board. Coldly, he said, “You call Deke for me. Tell him find this ass again. Blood for blood, it’s the right thing, man. She’s ours—mine. Tell him I want…need him to pick up that trash and hold it for me, yeah?” Goose nodded and they shared another look, which said they were on the same page with this decision.
Goose turned to leave the room, and DeeDee hovered close by as he carefully settled in next to the girl while still wearing his jeans. “Get the fuck out,” he said without looking up, and after a moment, the door closed quietly. He took a breath, and then another, knowing they were finally alone. He pulled the comforter over them both as he rolled her to his side, wondering, What the fuck am I supposed to do now?
***
Less than an hour later, the door opened and DeeDee stepped back inside, a stiff piece of paper in her hands. She held it in front of her, and he watched as her eyes moved from the paper to the face of the woman in his arms then back again. He waited her out, knowing she would have a good reason to be back in here so soon after he kicked her out. She did the same comparing thing several times, looking back and forth until he finally heard her sigh. “Sharon Spencer,” she said, moving towards the bed and sitting on the edge. She reached out a hand to push the hair back from Sharon’s face, and he made a noise, feeling his face twist as she paused.
“I know you’re not going to hurt her, Lane, and neither am I.” Using his given name intentionally, she made the statement soft and sure and waited; finally, he nodded, giving permission of a sort. Weaving her fingers through Sharon’s hair, she frowned as they snagged in the blood matted there. “Jase Spencer,” she said and cut her gaze up at him as she handed over the paper. A jolt of emotion and denial flashed through him as he caught her mea
ning, inferring the relationship as gently as she could. No, she isn’t Jase’s; she’s mine, he thought, and then caught himself again. She wasn’t his; she was one of the dancers from Slinky’s. She belonged to the club. Regardless of where his thoughts ran, he was only helping her. That’s all. All it could be.
He saw a flash of tawny desert, noted the give of sand gritting under the soles of his combat boots, saw Kincade falling forward, surprise and pain on his face. He heard him say, “Let it go, brother. You can’t help everyone, but you can save her. You couldn’t help me, but you can help her, your Rose.”
That was all this was; all it could be. Him helping her.
Holding up the picture where he could see it, his eyes glanced across the image, cataloging the similarities between the girl captured in an awkward high school moment and the woman he held. Without question, they were the same person, and he flicked his gaze at DeeDee. He tossed the picture towards her, snarling, “What the fuck you want me to do, woman?” Sharon groaned softly and he relaxed his arm, realizing he had tightened it around her.
“Jase wants to see her.” She was looking down at her fingers, still working through the matted hair, separating strands gently, working through to the scalp. “He hasn’t seen her since she was a teenager, when he left to play hockey overseas.”
“Brother?” He didn’t know why he felt the need to clarify the relationship between his woman and DeeDee’s man, but he wanted it spelled out. Then he realized where his thoughts had gone again and he shook himself mentally, reminding himself, She is not mine.
“Yeah, she’s his baby sister, youngest of the family.” He watched as she trailed the backs of her fingers across Sharon’s cheek, gently caressing her, fingertips tracing the arcs and curves of the bruising visible on the girl’s skin. “He’s only talked about her a little. I always got the impression it was a painful topic.”
“Send the motherfucker in,” he said, shifting Sharon slightly, moving her away and out from underneath DeeDee’s fingers, settling her against him, even as he stared a challenge at the woman who had become like a mother to him. I am so fucked up, he thought, watching the door close before his gaze dropped back to Sharon’s face, dipping his lips to trail across her cheek, wiping away DeeDee’s touches with his own.
***
It was with mixed emotions that Gunny watched Jase crawl up into the bed with him and Sharon. He moved cautiously, seemingly as afraid of the biker as he was of disturbing his sister’s sleep. He had muttered a pet name from across the room, but hadn’t spoken since. He was staring at her as if she was the most precious thing he had ever seen, and the tightness in Gunny’s chest eased a notch. A sick look flashed across Jase’s features when he took in the vivid bruising on the side of her face, and Gunny said, “If that shit turns your stomach, you sure don’t want to look at the rest of her, man.”
Jase shook his head, settling a little deeper into the mattress, his focus on his sister, so he missed the scowl Gunny shot his way. “How bad is it?” he asked quietly.
He looked at Jase for a minute, and then decided to lay it all out there. He had some hard questions for him later, and if he could shake him up a little now, he might get honest responses a bit easier. “Bad. Real bad.” He took a breath. “Bad enough Goose doped her like a fucking racehorse so she would pass right the fuck out.”
Watching closely, he saw the dismay on Jase’s features, an emotion real enough it would have been hard to fake. Jase asked, “DeeDee tell you she’s my sis?”
This was the opening he had been hoping for, hoping the man would bring up their relationship so he could figure out what had happened to this woman he was holding. He needed Jase to understand there was something here between… He halted his thoughts, scowling at himself. What was wrong with him? Fuck, he thought, focus on the woman. “You and I are going to have words about that, man. What kind of man doesn’t protect his fucking sister from shit like this?”
Jase looked at him for the first time, and slowly nodded as he explained. “It’s hard to protect her when I can’t find her.” As Gunny relaxed, he reached out to touch Sharon for the first time. He knew he was glowering as his gaze chased the progress of Jase’s fingers on her skin. The man had continued speaking, but Gunny didn’t hear anything, could only track the movement his fingers made, memorizing the paths for later, until Jase said something about hiring investigators to find her.
“You hired folks?” he interrupted the flow of Jase’s words, taking the opportunity to move her towards him in the bed. They were plastered, one against the other, his chest tight against her side, but as long as the other man could get his hands on her, they wouldn’t be close enough. Gunny frowned, his brain going a dozen different directions, but they all seemed arrow-straight right to her being with him. He felt her breath against his skin, the brush of the air teasingly warm and soft.
The doorknob rattled in the frame and he jerked his eyes open, hadn’t even realized he closed them, trying to feel every nuance that was Sharon. Movement caught his attention nearby, and he saw with dismay that Jase was openly touching her face now, cupping the side of her head in his hand, stroking across the bruise on her forehead with his thumb.
Fuck, he thought again, bringing his eyes back up to DeeDee. There are too many people in the goddamn fucking room. No fucking way he could keep her safe with so many bodies crowding around. He felt his nostrils flare, heard the bones in his jaw creak as he clenched his teeth. She fucking asked about food, and all he could do was nod. There was no way he could squeeze words past his lips with so many damn people in the room.
DeeDee left, and at least he could breathe again, anxiously shifting about in the bed. He asked, “How much do you know about what she’s been doing?” Maybe Jase would have some insight into her recent history, give them something they could use to sweep her fucking ex back to the clubhouse to have a ‘come to Jesus’ conversation, but he disclosed their family hadn’t heard from her regularly for years.
Gunny tensed when Jase referred to the ex as the ‘love of her life,’ because any motherfucker who could do this to a woman didn’t deserve to keep breathing, much less hold a title like that. When her brother moved closer, placing his head on the pillow inches from Sharon’s face, his muscles bunched and twisted in unspoken protest. The only thing holding him still was the love the man had for his sister. It was there, plain as day. You could see all the pain he had been through, wondering for years if she was alive or dead, and now his cautious joy at her being here…finally within reach. He also recognized the tightly controlled anger about the condition she was in now. Like himself, it seemed Jase wouldn’t be taking the abuse of his sister quietly, not if what he saw on the man’s face was truth. Knowing there was deep love and loyalty for the woman somehow made it easier for him to talk.
It seemed almost like a confession as he opened his mouth and said, “Elkins was the name of the man who fucked her up, yeah. We had a discussion with the man, but that was before I saw how bad shit was for her. Boys are picking him back up; they’ll hold him for me to deal with.” He sighed and shifted again, tightening his arm around her. “He fucking beat her everywhere it would be hidden by clothes. Not the first time she’s endured this level of abuse, either. She’s got fucking scars all over her goddamned body.
“She walked into Slinky’s to talk to DeeDee with her head high though, and didn’t want to cop to the shit either. Had to convince her to unload. She’s one tough fucking bitch, man.” Jase turned to look up at him, the awkwardness of their positions having faded somewhat. Gunny kept his focus on Sharon as he collected himself and drew a shaky breath then looked up at Jase.
“Took care of that piece of shit and got her stuff back. Got her money back. Went inside to tell ‘em we could leave, and she’s hurt so fucking bad she can’t even sit up, man. I picked her up and she latched onto me. Grabbed ahold of me as if I was a fucking life jacket, like I was saving her. Wrapped her fingers around my shirt and wouldn’t let go.�
� He took a deep breath, “Latched on like I was the last knot in her rope." He experienced a renewed sense of awe at the memory. Her trust in him was still overwhelming, because for a woman…for her to have been so hard-used, and then turn around and find comfort in a man’s arms…in his arms, was incredible.
He looked up at Jase, seeing his gaze stuck on Sharon’s face. "I held her in the van and she cried with every bump, but she wouldn’t let go. Got here, she still wouldn’t let go, and you know what? I didn’t want her to. By the time we got in here, I was the one holding on, the one that couldn’t let go. Couldn’t put her down. Made Goose triage her in my lap, man. Couldn’t let go. Been holding her for hours, and still can’t let go.
“I don’t know what the fuck’s wrong with me. I laid her down like I knew she needed to be, and I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t fucking breathe until I was touching her again. He fucked her up, Jase. Seeing her laid out like that for Goose to do his thing about made me sick. All I can think of is watching her walk into the club with her chin in the air, trying to convince us that everything was o-fucking-kay, when she’s beat to shit and back. So fucking strong.” His throat tightened, choking off his words, and he tipped his head down, resting his forehead against hers until she moved restlessly. He watched as she fought her eyelids open, knew the moment when she saw Jase for the first time, felt the drawing anger of jealousy when she spoke to Jase, love evident in her tone.
Then, she blew him away when she angled her neck, looking up at him with the same love he heard in her voice. She looked at him, her face soft, expression open and trusting, and he felt his lips move, curving up into a smile when she told him how she felt. “Safe.”
Gunny (Rebel Wayfarers MC Book 5) Page 10
