by Debra Kayn
Her throat closed, and her pulse roared in her ears. He was beyond recognition, and yet she'd seen that version of Nelson before.
Nelson's eyes were swollen shut. Shaking, she feared he'd been beaten too much to save him. Her gaze went to his chest. She held her breath, trying to see the rise and fall of his chest. When it came, she exhaled.
"I need ice, warm washcloths, and towels." She turned her head and addressed the bikers when nobody moved, "Now."
Making sure someone got the supplies she needed, she waited until two of the guys left, and then dropped to her knees beside Nelson. Not wanting to touch him and cause more pain, she was careful not to bump him.
"Nelson?" she said, watching his face for any movement.
"We've only been able to get a moan or two from him since we got here," said one of the bikers behind her. "He needs to go to the hospital."
Knowing they were right but used to dealing with his injuries herself because Nelson always feared the doctors pressing charges against his dad and he'd lose the garage, she forced herself to do what she'd always done.
She slowly and gently lifted his shirt and looked at his stomach. A sob caught in her throat. His ribs were battered and bruised. He could have internal bleeding.
"Nelson?" She looked down the length of his legs, his arms, and settled on his hands. There was blood on his knuckles. "You need to answer me, or we're going to call the ambulance to come—"
"F...ox," he mumbled.
"I'm right here." She leaned closer, adrenaline filling her at his ability to hear her. "Where does it hurt?"
He moaned. She looked over her shoulders at the other men. The scowls on their faces let her know that wasn't good. Nelson wasn't talking or aware of everyone around him.
The other two bikers returned with the supplies she'd asked for. She took a warm, wet washcloth and dabbed at Nelson's face, removing the blood caked in his nostrils. Working slowly and with the lightest touch, she still caused him to groan in pain.
"I know. I know," she whispered. "I need to clear your nose, so you can breathe easier."
Once she had his face cleaned up, she could see the damage. His nose caused the swelling into his eyes. She suspected it was broken, but there were no deep cuts that required stitching on his face. Thank goodness.
She looked over his hands, cleaning the abrasions.
During everything, Nelson remained quiet. The only form of communication came from the moans that sounded as if they came from the depths of his soul.
Curley said, "You think we should call an ambulance?"
She held on to Nelson's hand. He could have bleeding inside that none of them could see or a concussion.
Nelson squeezed her hand and held on. A sob escaped her mouth, and she lowered her head and pressed her cheek against the back of his fingers.
"No, no ambulance." She knew the routine, unfortunately. "I'll stay with him."
"He's battered." Curley folded his arms across his chest and gripped his jaw between his thumb and index finger. "Who the hell's responsible?"
Right now, all she cared about was that Nelson was conscious. He could tell them who beat him up later. Once the truth came out, she hoped whoever it was would get arrested.
Nelson never caused anyone any harm. She'd fight anyone who said differently.
Chapter 29
Nelson
NELSON COULDN'T LIFT his arm and yet he knew he wasn't in danger. It took him several minutes to open one of his eyes enough to see he was at home.
Another minute to figure out the strawberry scent came from Scarlett's hair. Her head was on his upper arm, pinning him down. Either he was dreaming, or he'd lost all feeling in his body because he couldn't feel the weight of her against the rest of his body.
The urge to piss hurt his stomach.
Obviously, he wasn't paralyzed. Every part of his body ached.
He tensed, remembering what happened. The small involuntary movement killed like a son-of-a-bitch.
Groaning, he clenched his teeth. Even his mouth hurt.
The weight came off his upper arm. "Nelson?"
He couldn't see out of the eye near Scarlett or turn his head. "Pee."
Her footsteps scurried across the floor. She returned to his side, putting something in his hand.
"It's an empty Big Gulp," she said.
Using his hand, he tried to get the zipper down on his jeans and couldn't find the tab. Scarlett gently took the cup out of his hand, and then he felt his pants give away.
"I'm afraid to try and move you," she said.
"Roll me." He held his breath, his ribs aching.
It took all his strength to help her move him to his side. The pain, almost more than he could deal with, weakened him. He was past caring if he pissed on the floor.
Scarlett took his dick out of his boxers. "Go ahead, I'm holding the cup."
For how urgent he had to go, it was several minutes before his body relaxed, and he filled the cup. He would've chuckled at the way she shook his dick to get the last drops, but the slight movement caused him to hold his breath. It hurt too damn much.
Scarlett tucked his dick back in his jeans. "Hang on. Let me dump this."
He let himself go, rolling partway to his back. The pain eased everywhere but around his ribs. The more he tried to slow his breathing, the more he wanted to take a deep lungful of air.
He needed to sit up before he caused more damage to his body and his lungs filled up.
"Do you have any Tylenol or aspirin?"
He licked his dry, swollen lips. His mouth tasted like shit. He needed a drink of water.
"I don't know," he mumbled.
Anything in the place would be expired. He hadn't bought medicine since getting out of prison.
Somewhere in the room, a phone rang. Scarlett came out of the bathroom and answered the call.
"Hi." She paused. "Yes, he needs Tylenol or some kind of pain pill."
He pried open his right eye and found her by the kitchen, staring at him. Her hair hung tangled and wild around her, and he could almost bet her eyes were nearly as swollen as his.
Had she come over and found him? His chest pounded, stealing his breath. Had she seen the men who'd beat him?
Fuck. She could've walked into the middle of the beatdown. She could've been hurt.
"Okay. I'll be here." Scarlett stretched the cord on the phone and hung the receiver on the wall. "That was Curley. He's bringing some medicine to help you."
"Wh-who..." He licked his lips. "Found me?"
"The members of Tarkio." She returned to his side and hovered above him. "Do you want a pillow behind you?"
"Sit." He grunted. "Up."
"How do you want me to do that?" She put her hands out in front of him. "Should I lift?"
He grunted and grabbed her wrist, using all his strength, pulled himself straight. She reached over and grabbed his leg, putting his foot on the floor. He let go of her. She helped him get his other leg down.
Letting his upper body fall to the back of the couch, he let out his breath. Even the small shift in positions left him panting for breath.
"I had ice on your face and the side of your ribs with the most bruises all night." She kneeled at his feet. "When did this happen?"
He lifted his thumb off his thigh for a non-answer. It was the only part of him not hurting. Without knowing the day, he had no idea when he'd gotten his ass handed to him.
"Do you think you need to go to the hospital?" she asked.
"No." He needed to clear his throat, but that would hurt his ribs. "No worse than the beatings I've had before."
"I wasn't sure..." She held her hand against his face. "Can you see me?"
"Yeah," he whispered.
She sighed. "Who did this to you?"
"Don't know." He closed his eyes.
Fuck, he was weaker than a baby. She wasn't safe here with him. He couldn't lift a hand to protect her.
"Go home." He groaned. "Fox."
&
nbsp; "I'm not going anywhere."
"Go."
"No."
Too tired to argue, he let his chin hit his chest. The next thing he knew, Scarlett was calling his name and lifting his hand from his leg.
He pried open his eye and found Curley standing beside her. Good, Curley would take her home.
Chapter 30
Scarlett
THE CLOCK ON THE WALL above the cash register at Riverside Bar read one o'clock. Scarlett closed the till and walked back to the office. She'd made next week's schedule out earlier and posted it in the breakroom.
She was off for the next two days and hoped to see Nelson. The first twenty-four hours after he'd been beaten, she'd spent the entire time with him—even calling in sick to work. The next day, Curley promised to stay with him during her shift, and she'd hurried back to be with Nelson as soon as the bar had closed. They continued that schedule for the last five days.
During her time with Nelson, he'd slept. When he was awake, he kept his eyes closed and chose not to talk with her.
She'd finally gotten some soup with tons of crackers soaked in the broth down him yesterday. Suspecting his mouth hurt and his broken nose made it impossible to breathe right, he also dealt with broken ribs—all which made simple movements painful. The return of his appetite was a good sign that each day would get better, she hoped.
Once the clock struck two o'clock, she'd go to Nelson's and stay the next forty-eight hours. He was in no condition to kick her out.
In the past, his injuries never took that long to heal. Of course, he was older, and no one knew how long or severe the fight was. He hadn't given her any clues who was behind the attack.
Wendy hurried to her and leaned over the counter. "Can you take the drinks out to Table Four. I have to use the little girl's room."
"Sure." She smiled in understanding and went over to Jerry. "I'm looking for Table Four's order."
"Give me a sec, babe." Jerry finished pouring a drink and grabbed two more tumblers.
She glanced away. His endearment felt impersonal as if he called every woman in his life babe. Had Jerry always been that way with her?
Not that it mattered. She found it easy to slip back into employee mode around him, and that was mostly because of him. He seemed to have gone on with his life, which she was happy about.
"Here you go." Jerry slid the tray in front of her.
"Thanks." She carried it out to the floor and set it down on the table in front of the customers.
Luckily, the men grabbed their drinks from her, and she wasn't left asking which beverage belonged to who. She smiled and left them to enjoy themselves.
Halfway back to the counter, Curley walked through the front door. She changed direction and went straight to him.
"Why aren't you with Nelson?" She frowned. "He shouldn't be left alone yet."
"He wanted time by himself." Curley lowered his voice. "He's okay. I made sure he had everything he'd need close by."
"He can barely walk across the room."
Curley said, "He took a shower tonight."
"He did?" She stepped closer. "Is he feeling that much better?"
"You'd have to ask him that." Curley looked around the room. "Do you have the keys Nelson gave you for the garage?"
She studied Curley. The man gave nothing away. It didn't help that Curley's hair and beard covered half his face. If he wasn't going back to Nelson, she'd go directly there after work and let herself in with the keys.
"Yes," she said.
Curley's gaze came back to her. "Go check."
"The keyring is in my purse." She hadn't taken Nelson giving her the keys to Steel Mechanics lightly.
"Go check," he repeated.
Looking around the bar for Jerry, she found him busy with a customer at the register. She sighed heavily. "Fine."
Going to the breakroom, she went to the wall where she hung her purse on the hook. She reached under her sweater, found her bag, and slipped her hand inside. Not feeling the metal keys, she pulled the bag to her and looked inside.
She couldn't find them. Blowing out her breath, she returned to Curley.
"Do you have them?" he asked.
She shook her head. "I must've left them at home on my dresser."
Her days and nights ran together, taking care of Nelson and trying to hold down her job. Half the time, she couldn't even remember what day it was.
"Okay." Curley dipped his chin. "I'll see you later."
"I'm sure I will," she mumbled, glancing at the clock and went back to work.
Expecting Curley to sit and order a beer, she became more curious when he left without getting a drink. Had he only come to the bar to tell her about Nelson's progress?
Jerry walked behind her. "Babe, grab those empties."
She turned to see which table needed clearing, and Wendy hurried past her.
"Got it, Jer." Wendy swished her ass more than normal.
She glanced between Jerry and Wendy, catching an extra smile flashed between them. Whoa, when had that happened?
She shivered. Jerry jumping from her to another employee grossed her out. Glad to have dumped him, she shook her head at the thought that he had a habit of going out with employees.
Someone bumped into her side. She stepped out of the way. "My bad."
"Oh, God. That was my fault." Lorraine carried empty chip containers in front of her. "I'm wiggin' out."
Scarlett laughed. "Hang in there. Only five more minutes and Jerry will cut off the drinks, and we can start prodding the customers to head for the door."
"I can't wait." Lorraine's face broke out in a smile. "My hubby is coming home in the morning."
"Awesome." She walked with Lorraine to the counter. "Big plans?"
"Nope. None at all. We're going to stay home and just be together." Lorraine wiggled her brows. "It's going to be fantastic."
"Well, have fun." She grinned.
Getting the customers moving and out the door took longer than usual. By the time the lock was thrown, it was ten minutes after two. Scarlett rushed out the back door and got into her car. She concentrated on not running any stop signs or traffic signals all the way home and pushed down her anxiety.
She parked in the driveway next to her mom's car and hurried inside. Putting her bag on the kitchen counter, she spotted a note on the fridge.
Be careful. Love you, Mom
Tucking the piece of paper into her front pocket so her mom would know she'd read it and appreciated her love, she hustled upstairs and looked for the keys to Steel Mechanic in her room.
Ten minutes later, she'd destroyed her room in her search. She couldn't find the keys anywhere. Could she have left them upstairs with Nelson?
Hoping Curley or one of the bikers was next door to let her in, she went out the sliding door and jogged across the yard to the fence. She pushed the wood and almost ran her face into the unmovable boards.
Stepping back, she studied the fence and tried again. Then, she tried the boards on each side of where she knew the gate was supposed to be.
The fence never budged. She wasn't pushing the wrong spot. After all the years of traveling back and forth, from her house to Nelson, she would never forget where to find the opening.
She tried again. When the fence stayed together, she ran her fingers down each gap between the boards, trying to figure out what stopped the gate from opening.
Her adrenaline plummeted. All the long nights and days taking care of Nelson only to hear that he'd showered and was well enough to stay by himself for an hour until she could get there came crashing down on her.
She fisted her hand, beating on the fence, wanting to tear it down.
Nelson had shut her out again.
Chapter 31
Nelson
CURLEY TURNED OFF THIS motorcycle in front of Steel Mechanics. "Damn, man. You look like shit."
He felt like shit. While he was on his feet and slowly getting back into his routine, he still suffered from headach
es, and if he moved just right, his ribs protested.
Nelson locked the front door, walked over to his Harley, and sat on the seat. "I don't have to look good to get the job done."
"True enough."
He looked at his long-time friend, knowing there was no one he trusted more to help him with what he had to do today. "Is he there?"
"Yeah, he's there." Curley tilted his head, studying Nelson. "You sure you're ready?"
All his life, he'd stood down, letting his dad get the best of him for fear of losing the garage and everything he'd worked his ass off for. The injuries and pain he lived with today from the beatdown would not stop him from fighting back.
His nose, more crooked than before, had turned both his eyes black. But he could see.
The broken ribs were still healing, and he'd taped the shit out of them, knowing he'd need to breathe hard and use all his strength without stopping because of the pain.
When Curley and Paco had come to him with information on who could be responsible for his attack, he made sure he would be going after the right man.
The puzzle pieces fell in his lap. All he had to do was put them together, and thanks to the last three weeks, having nothing better to do than recover, he'd found all the answers to his questions.
He also knew if he let the same man get away with what he'd orchestrated, ten long years ago, he'd regret it.
The threat of going back to prison wasn't enough to stop him.
Dying would probably be a relief from what he'd lived through.
Once Curley enlightened him on what he'd learned, he'd added everything that'd happened to him. His dad was never smart enough to distribute drugs. He was a mule, a bitch for someone more powerful.
There was someone else responsible for spreading cocaine all over Missoula, Montana, over a decade ago. The dirty money came from one source, not his dad. His dad only spread the filth.
Even Ollie and Josh were too stupid to organize the level of cocaine that was brought into the shop. There was someone higher, paying his dad enough money to make him careless and blind to what they were doing.
