A prayer no one heard.
Chapter Thirty-one
I didn’t expect him to come home that night, much less two hours later. I also didn’t expect him to tell me he and the club needed my help. I don’t even know what that means.
As much as I like to think I’m a badass, I don’t see how I can be any kind of help to those guys. I ride a Honda Pilot not a suped up Harley. Sure, I own a leather jacket and I may have fired a BB gun, but I’m not sure that makes me qualified to help the club.
However, Cobra didn’t seem to care about any of that when he ordered me to put my clothes on and woke our daughter from her sleep. I thought about arguing with him. Especially when he walked into the room carrying our baby girl, who was now wide awake, in his arms. One look into his cold eyes and I decided against it.
I wasn’t cowering down.
I wasn’t ready to poke the beast, and clearly he was in beast mode.
If I wasn’t so fucking curious or annoyed I’d think it was hot.
Once I was dressed, I followed him downstairs to my car that was parked at the curb.
“Hold her for a second,” he says, ushering Skylar into my arms. The tone of his voice sounding as if it was on autopilot. For some odd reason he pulls the car seat from the trunk and secures it back to its rightful place in the back seat.
“Why is the car seat in the trunk?”
Nothing.
He takes Skylar from my arms and fastens the harness over her. Pressing a kiss to her forehead he closes the door and turns his eyes to me.
“Get in the car, Celeste,” he orders, before stepping around the back of the car and climbing into the driver’s seat.
Angrily, I pull open the door and slide in beside him. Trying to keep my cool in front of Skylar I plaster a fake smile on and turn to him.
“Stop ordering me around and tell me why my daughter and I are being dragged out of our beds.”
Keeping his eyes on the road ahead of him, he grips the steering wheel and continues to ignore me.
“Stop the car,” I demand.
“Will you just simmer down,” he grinds out. “Trust me, the last thing I want is for you to be involved in any of this.”
He reaches into his jacket and pulls out his phone. Diverting his eyes between the screen and the road, he finally lifts the phone to his ear. Gnawing on my lower lip in frustration, I stare out the window as he orders someone else around.
At least I’m not alone.
“I need a solid,” he begins. “Can you meet me at the motel off the side of the Staten Island Expressway? Yeah, the one where we have the rooms. Thanks, man.”
He ends the call and tosses the phone into the console before stretching his arm out and covering my knee with his hand.
“I’m sorry,” he says hoarsely.
“Baby, I don’t know what’s going on—”
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” I reply immediately. No hesitation. No question. I trust Cobra. I didn’t think it was possible, but I do.
The car comes to a stop, causing me to tear my eyes from him and stare up at the hospital. Confused, I turn back to him.
“Why are we here?” I ask, watching as he glances in the rearview mirror at Skylar who has fallen asleep. He rubs the light stubble lining his jaw before turning to me and answering.
“Trust me,” he repeats, releasing a ragged breath. “I need you to go into the hospital and grab one of those kits you use when a woman comes in after she’s been raped,” he rasps.
I’m sure I heard him wrong. I shake my head and look at him expectantly, waiting for him to tell me why we’re really here. It doesn’t happen and I absorb the fact he just asked me to steal medical supplies from the hospital. Then it settles that we’re actually talking about rape.
“A rape kit,” I whisper. “You want me to steal a rape kit from the hospital.”
“Yes,” he responds. “Trust me,” he says again.
“Cobra, what the hell is going on?” I ask hoarsely, swallowing the lump in my throat. “What happens after I get the kit?”
“I take you to the motel and you do everything a compassionate nurse would do for a woman who has just been the victim of a brutal attack.”
“Any nurse would call the cops.”
“Not an option.”
“Why is it not an option?” I ask, demanding more than vague answers and blind trust.
“The cops won’t give her justice. You and I know that. We know better than anyone. Better than the homeless man who found her next to a dumpster. Even better than the man who loves her.”
Swallowing hard, I know he’s right.
I know the statistics.
I know forty-three percent of rapists actually caught in the city are convicted.
That’s less than half, meaning the rest get away with a slap on the wrist.
Forty-three percent!
Forty-three percent of the eight hundred and ninety-three victims reported last year.
Do the math.
Sadly, a victim never forgets. She lives the rest of her life in the shadows of her attack while the man who stole her life and violated her gets to go on living. He gets to wake up and do it again to another innocent woman, or worse, an innocent young girl.
“Fine,” I whisper, lifting my eyes to him. “Give me a few minutes,” I add as I reach over to the back seat and grab the tote I usually keep my scrubs in. I pull the scrubs out and toss them back onto the back seat before reaching for the handle. Cobra’s arm stretches across me and his hand covers mine, causing me to turn back to him.
“Thank you,” he whispers hoarsely, lifting a hand to my cheek. His thumb softly traces my jaw as he leans down and presses a quick kiss to my lips while he opens the door for me.
Slinging my empty tote over my shoulder I get out of the car and make my way toward the hospital. I roam the halls, trying to go unnoticed, prepared to tell anyone who asks why I’m there that I left my scrubs in my locker. I make some small talk with Linda, take her access card from her scrubs without her knowing, and then work quickly to grab a pair of extra scrubs I keep in my locker. After I shove them into my tote bag, I hurry to the supply room. I swipe Linda’s access badge and the door automatically unlocks. I sneak inside. Swiftly, I grab the kit and tuck it inside the tote bag and cover it with the scrubs.
Chucking Linda’s card into the sewer, I get in the car and throw the bag onto the back seat.
“You get it?”
“Drive,” I hiss, covering my face with my hands.
He hesitates for a second before peeling away from the curb.
Convincing myself I was helping an innocent woman that didn’t ask to be abused doesn’t ease my conscience. I know the difference between right and wrong. I know I didn’t only risk my career but Linda’s as well. If they notice that kit missing, they’ll investigate who had access to the supply room. They won’t find my name, they’ll find hers.
Guilt chews at me as we turn into the parking lot of the motel. Gazing out the window, I spot Deuce standing beside his bike. He sees us, flicks his cigarette into the street and starts for us. My stomach twists as we get out of the car and I try to mentally prepare myself for what I’m about to see, what I’m about to do.
Cobra takes Skylar out of the back seat and I kiss her softly before he hands her over to Deuce and laces our hands together. I watch as Deuce turns and heads in one direction while we head in the opposite. I stand behind Cobra, watching Deuce disappear into the room two doors down from the one we’re standing in front of. Cobra raps his knuckles against the door and I can hear the faint sound of footsteps.
The door opens and Jack Parrish stands in front of us. His expression grim as he moves aside and lets us in. Peeling my eyes off Jack, I turn and lock eyes with my cousin’s. My eyebrows knit together as I watch him cover his face with his hands.
Not understanding what he’s doing here, I continue to stare at him waiting for him to explain. For someone to explain what the fuck is goin
g on.
Rocco pulls his hands away and lifts his red-rimmed eyes to mine.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
I part my lips to ask him what the hell he’s sorry for when I feel Cobra’s hand press against my back and urge me further inside. Slowly, as the door clicks closed behind me, I tear my eyes away from my distraught cousin and look toward the bed.
Nightmares.
They all seem to come true.
The gasp sounds from my lips.
Instantly, the tears cloud my eyes and stream down my face.
Lifting my hand to my mouth, I stare at my beautiful cousin. The strongest girl I’ve ever known lays there a victim.
“Jesus Christ,” Jack mutters.
Cobra reaches for me but I shrug him off, spin around and glare at him.
“You didn’t tell me it was my cousin,” I cry, wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand.
It’s hard enough when some stranger walks off the street and you have to do this. It’s fucking brutal to do it to someone you love.
“Go get my bag,” I order him, glancing around the room at the men surrounding me.
Needing someone to blame, not having a visual of her attacker, I take my anger out on the men here and suppress my desire to rip each of them apart. To wish their whole fucking breed to hell in a handbasket.
“Get out. All of you get out,” I seethe.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Stryker demands. “I promised her I wouldn’t leave her.”
“Little late for that, right?” I hiss, knowing he walked away from her the minute things became too real for him.
Bastard.
Gina moves on the bed and Stryker attentively turns his attention toward her. I want to hate him and tell him this is all his fault. I know that she was brokenhearted a few days ago when she called me over to her house. I cut him some slack then because she told me he suffered from PTSD, but now, I don’t care what the fuck he has. He shouldn’t have left her side. If he was a man of his word, she’d still be safe.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs as a sob rips through her and echoes off the walls of the room.
“Stryker,” she whispers faintly.
“I’m here, pretty girl,” he whispers, dropping to the edge of the bed beside her.
“You’re really here,” she whispers.
“I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. Your cousin is here, she’s going to help get you cleaned up. Okay?”
“Celeste?”
I swallow, the lump painfully pushes down my throat as I quickly wipe away my tears and take a step forward.
“Right here,” I say as I stand behind Stryker.
Violence stares back at me in the form of my cousin and I fight my emotions, knowing I have to treat her as if she is my patient and not my beautiful cousin.
“How about we start with a shower?”
Gina glances between us and nods as more tears fall from her eyes. She doesn’t let go of Stryker’s hand at first and I stand idly watching as he lifts his fingers to gently touch her bruised cheek.
“I’ll be right outside and when you’re done Celeste will come and get me. I won’t leave your side, pretty girl. I won’t.”
“Okay,” she whispers hoarsely.
“Okay,” he repeats, dropping his hand from her cheek. Lifting their joined hands to his lips, I watch him gently brush his lips across her knuckles. Releasing her, he stands and turns to look at me.
I turn my gaze back to my cousin.
“I’ll be right outside. You call me when you’re done,” he demands.
I don’t respond as Cobra returns with my tote bag and sets it on the foot of the bed. Stepping around Stryker, I sit on the edge of the bed as the men file out of the room. Gina peers at me through her less swollen eye. A tear slips from her pretty green eye.
Defeated and destroyed.
Tears fall from my own eyes as my thumb brushes away her tears. Leaning over her, I gently lift her fragile body into my arms and she sobs into my shoulder.
Every day, hundreds of Americans are affected by sexual violence.
You don’t realize it because we don’t think about it every day.
Rape.
We don’t think about it until we live it.
Until it has a name.
Until it has a face.
Until you’re standing in the bathroom of a motel with your cousin.
Until you remove her skirt to discover the bastards took her underwear.
Until you watch her cry as you remove her favorite silk blouse—a blouse torn and covered in her blood.
Until you realize they fondled her breasts and never had the decency to cover her when they were done.
Until your cousin is standing before you completely nude trying to cover herself from your sorrowful eyes.
Until you’re pulling out a rape kit you stole.
Until you’re prying your cousin’s legs apart, inserting multiple swabs into her vagina and her mouth.
Until you’re injecting her with needles full of antibiotics and a tetanus shot.
Until you hand her a glass of water and the morning-after pill.
Until you ask her if the temperature of the water is okay before you help her into the shower, watching as the water hits her body and the blood slide off her and fades down the drain.
Until you give her the privacy she craves and sob as she showers away the shame.
“I’m right here, Gina,” I croak, begging myself to hold it together.
She needs me.
She needs me.
After a while I peel back the curtain and help her wash her hair. At first she cringes at my touch then slowly relaxes.
I say relax because it makes me feel better.
But the truth is she resigns.
She gives up.
Closing the water, I take her hand and help her step out of the shower. Squeezing her hand, I watch as she lifts her head and stares at herself in the mirror for the first time.
Rape.
You don’t think about it until it has a face.
Chapter Thirty-two
Not ten seconds after we step out of the motel room, Jack closes the door and Stryker charges for Rocco, grabbing him by the lapels of his suit jacket. He throws him up against the brick wall of the motel.
“You son of a bitch,” he growls.
“Jesus,” Jack hisses. “Get him off him, Cobra.”
Following his command, I tear Stryker off the gangster and watch as Jack steps between them.
“One of you better start fucking talking or so help me Jesus Christ,” he snarls. “Let’s start by telling me how the fuck you knew Rocco had a sister.”
“I met her the night I came home,” he reveals, stepping away from Rocco. “I didn’t know she was his sister at first.”
“Gee, that makes this fucking mess so much better,” Jack bites back sarcastically, scowling at Rocco.
“You knew your sister was hanging around one of my brothers.”
Just as guilty as Rocco, I keep my mouth shut and watch the scene unfold.
“I did, and he offered to help me protect her when you wouldn’t fucking give me the time of day,” Rocco sneers.
“Well, a fine job of protecting you all did,” Jack seethes, pointing to the door.
“It’s over, from this point forward Gina isn’t Rocco’s sister. She’s my girl, and my girl has been attacked which makes this a club issue and no longer any of this prick’s business. However…” Stryker says, pointing a finger toward Rocco, “…you will tell him everything you fucking know about Yankovich—”
The blood in my veins grows cold at the mention of the cocksucker. Battling my own turmoil since I first laid eyes on Gina in that ally, it was easy for me to think Yankovich was capable of a heinous crime, figuring my sister likely suffered the same fate as Gina.
However, after not hearing much on the man for years and just learning he was a player again, I wasn’t prepared for him to be named as a man who
did this now. I wasn’t prepared to know he struck again and so soon.
“Wait a minute,” I interrupt. “Are we sure this was Yankovich? I mean anyone could’ve done this, a complete stranger with no ties to either organization could’ve attacked Gina.”
“I’ve been trying to intercept a leasing agreement Yankovich made with Triton Containers,” Rocco admits. “If everything went through he no longer would have the capabilities to transport his shipment to Russia, which he’s planning on doing soon. He’s a smart man with an army of soldiers behind him. Someone in his organization must’ve got wind of my plans and before I could sabotage his trade operation, he decided to teach me a lesson and he used my sister to do so.”
“What’s the Russian looking to transport?” Jack growls.
“Women and drugs. Something you would know if you fucking listened to me,” he snarls.
Jack’s jaw ticks as he turns his attention back to Stryker.
“Find out who did your girl dirty,” he orders. “Be sure before we throw our balls to the wind and go to war.”
“The club will back me?”
“She your woman, then she’s property of the Satan’s Knights and no one fucks with what is ours,” Jack declares, turning to me. Our conversation fresh in my mind. His promise to me to keep me and mine safe rings in my ears.
The man is making a lot of promises, vowing to keep everyone we love safe. Yet here we are, standing in a parking lot while Celeste takes care of Gina. The first victim, well, that’s assuming Rocco is wrong and Yankovich wasn’t responsible for the bomb.
Thinking about it now it makes sense. It’s typical Yankovich fashion. He sets up the Corrupt Bastards, leaves a trail for us to follow back to Boston and we take care of his dirty work. It’s no different from having my parents murdered and leading me to the hit men.
“Looks like you got your wish, boy. You ready to work with me?” Jack questions Rocco.
“If it brings justice to the people who hurt my sister, then I’ll do whatever the fuck you tell me to do.”
Jack glances between the two men vowing to protect Gina as I turn and make my way to the little girl I promised to keep safe. I knock on Deuce’s door and wait for him to let me in.
Wanderer (The Nomad Series Book 2) Page 22
