by Cat Mason
Looking up, I meet his eyes, hardening my stare. “How many times do I have to tell you, I don’t know shit about any of this? Neither did the club.”
“Fine,” Hilster sighs, scribbling something onto a piece of paper. “Then let’s start at the beginning of what you do know, shall we?”
Hilster grills me on Troy, and various aspects of the club for over two hours. Time ticks by so incredibly slow that at times, I question if the hands on the clock are even moving at all. Every few questions, he rephrases a question or remark, trying to catch me up. Even though I am completely knocked off kilter by everything he has laid out in front of me, my story doesn’t change. I won’t adjust the truth for anyone, especially some cocky son of a bitch with a gun and badge. Had anyone of us known about this, Stone would have called for an emergency vote. Troy would have been stripped of his patch and immediately ex-communicated. A deal made by a member without a table vote is just one more betrayal to add to Troy’s list.
If he weren’t already dead, he sure as hell would be on the chopping block now.
After what feels like an eternity, Agent Hilster finally leads me out of the room and back up the hallway to the front of the station. Schrader stands in the far corner, leaning against the wall, talking to woman with long blonde hair that I know I have seen before. Taking in her black and red dress and her silver heels, I try to place her as we make our way toward them.
“If you remember anything else,” Hilster says, handing me his card. “You can reach me at this number. Day or night.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I mutter, shoving it into my back pocket. “Thanks for the chat. It was very enlightening.”
Schrader’s body language changes the moment he spots me. “Hey,” he says, pushing off the wall. “You ready to head back?”
“Very,” I reply, nodding my head, my eyes moving to her.
“Cheyenne, this is Rachelle Harding,” he says, his eyes shifting between us. “Chelle, this is Shy.”
“Right,” I nod. “You’re the lawyer.”
“Yes.” Her eyes move slowly to me. “Next time you are brought in for questioning, call me. You should never go into an interrogation without legal representation. That’s what the club pays me for, sweetheart.”
“The club pays you to clean up their messes,” I correct her. “Last I checked, I didn’t make one. I came in voluntarily.”
“That’s even worse,” she blurts, looking me up and down. “Especially if you’ve got something to hide.”
“Good thing I don’t,” I toss back at her.
She turns to Schrader, her eyes raking over him like she wants to eat him alive right here on the ugly blue and white tile floor. “I’m late for a meeting,” she purrs. Leaning in, a smile spreads across her face as the tips of her fingers lightly brush over the leather that covers Schrader’s chest. “You let me know about that raincheck. I want to finish what we started.”
Swallowing hard, Schrader shifts uncomfortably, the look in his eyes telling me everything I need to know. And then some. Motherfucker. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I blurt, storming for the doors.
“Cheyenne!” Schrader growls.
“Save it,” I mutter, moving quickly down the stairs. “I don’t want to hear a goddamn word that comes out of your mouth.”
The moment my feet hit the bottom, his fingers wrap around my arm. “Stop,” he barks, spinning me to face him. His chest heaves, nostrils flaring as he stares down at me.
“You fuck her in the bathroom stall, Schrader?” I spit angrily, yanking my arm free of his grasp. “Or did you bend her over the hood of my car and give everyone a show?”
“What?” he asks, stepping closer when I take a step back. “Are you insane?”
“Oh, come on,” I groan, crossing my arms over my chest. “You expect me to believe that she was pawing on you like a cat in heat and you didn’t put your dick in her?”
“Jinks called and asked her to stop by,” he says, running his hands up my upper arms. “I told him you were in there alone with that fuckin’ Fed.”
Arching a brow, I take another step back toward my car. “So you’ve never had sex with her?” He doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t need to. His face says it all once again. I shake my head. Hating that I am right. Hating that I even fucking care in the first place. “When?”
Closing his eyes, he scrubs a hand over his face. “The morning of the explosion,” he breathes and I instantly feel sick to my stomach.
“That’s where you were?” I breathe, shaking my head in disbelief. “That was what, two, three days ago?” Emotions bubbling over, I shove at his chest. “Are you kidding me? Jesus Christ, Schrader, did you even bother to wash her off your dick before you stuck it in me?”
Turning my back to him, I close my eyes tightly, trying to get a handle on myself. “Listen to me.” He sounds desperate, as if he is racking his brain for the words to say.
When I open my eyes again, I see Chief McKelvy and Detective Ashmead walking our way, deep in conversation. The last thing I want to do is be caught up in polite chit-chat right now. “Save it,” I ground out, stepping off the curb. “I’m leaving. Have a nice walk back, asshole.”
“Shy would you—”
The sound of screeching tires and rapid gunfire drown out his words. Schrader tackles me to the ground, my head and shoulder bouncing off the curb as he attempts to shield me between his body and the front end of my car. Pain slices through me, my eyes filling with tears as I struggle to breathe through it. Though I can feel the rise and fall of my chest, the air doesn’t seem to make it to my lungs.
I can’t see the shooter, or the vehicle, but I do hear when it finally speeds off. Relief floods me as I attempt to take stock of myself. “Shy,” Schrader breathes, helping me sit up. The color drains from his face. “Fuck, you’re bleeding.” Leaning me back against the fender of my car, his hands roam my body frantically as he checks me over. “Are you hit?”
“N-n-no,” I choke out, grabbing onto his shoulders, clinging to him as my body shakes. “I’m fine.”
“Oh my God!”
Turning in the direction of the scream, I see Detective Ashmead and Rachelle scrambling to roll Chief McKelvy onto his back. “Help!” Ashmead screams, pressing her blood covered hands to his chest. “We need help! Officer down!” she cries, starting chest compressions. “Officer down!”
Chapter Fourteen
Shy
I have watched people die in front of me. The intensity in moments like that change you forever. Watching someone die that you have known all your life carries an entirely different level of staying power. Even with first responders arriving within minutes, Chief McKelvy died on the scene.
Doing him proud, Detective Ashmead regained her composure as best she could and took control, beginning with closing off the entire block to any traffic other than law enforcement and medical personnel. She also demanded I be loaded up into an ambulance and taken straight to the hospital in Milford the moment she noticed that I got banged up. Though I protested, I was overruled when Schrader all but strapped me onto a stretcher himself. Thankfully, since he wasn’t allowed to ride in the ambulance with me, Schrader was forced to follow behind in my car. Whether it really was a protocol thing or not, I was grateful when the driver refused to let him in the back with me before closing the doors. Truth be told, I think he made them as stressed as he did me.
After being scanned and poked, I am left alone in a room to wait for my results. When the door finally does open, I am shocked when Torch’s sister, Henley, walks into the room. “Hey, girl. I thought that was your name on the board.” Sitting down beside me on the bed, she nudges me with her elbow. “If you needed some girl time, you could’ve just called.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” I shrug, forcing out a laugh. “Is Schrader pacing in the hallway?” I ask, knowing he is more than likely losing his goddamn mind right about now since he isn’t back here hovering over me like some beard
ed mother hen.
“I threatened to drug him and lock him in the psych ward if he didn’t go take a piss or grab a coffee,” she informs me. “He knows how good I am with a needle so he’s kept his pacing restricted to the waiting room.”
“Good. Last thing I need is him treating me like a china doll.” Yanking a hand through my hair, I wince when my palm hits the knot on the side of my head.
“You okay?” she asks, concern filling her features.
“Yeah,” the word rushes out of me. “How long until I can get the hell out of here?”
“Hello, Cheyenne, I’m Doctor Geiss.” Stepping into the room, is a short, brunette woman who looks to be in her late fifties. “I’ve reviewed your labs and all your scans appear to be normal, but I’d still like you to follow up with your OB-GYN in the next few days as a precaution. Hmm.” Looking at my chart, her brows pinch together as she studies the page. “You know, for some reason your pregnancy wasn’t on your intake paperwork when you were brought in.”
“My what?” I croak, bolting upright in the bed. “No. No. No,” I mutter, shaking my head. “That can’t be right. I’m not having a baby.”
“Yes.” Turning it so that I can see, Dr. Geiss points to a line on the center of the page. “Says right here you’re pregnant.” When her eyes meet mine, the smile slips right off her face. “I guess this means you didn’t know.” I barely manage to nod in response. Placing the chart down on a nearby table, she gives me a sad smile. “I apologize if this isn’t happy news. I’ll give you a moment and go check on your discharge paperwork. Henley, be sure to check her vitals again once she is cleaned up.”
“Absolutely, Doc,” Henley replies, pushing to her feet as the doctor leaves the room.
“Oh my God,” I swallow hard. My head spins and my stomach churns. This can’t be happening. Not now. Not like this. “If I’m pregnant, that means—”
“It’s D.A.’s,” Henley finishes for me, her shoulders drooping slightly. “Shit. I’m so sorry, honey.”
“Troy,” I breathe, his name leaving a sour taste in my mouth. “I can’t believe this.”
Walking over to the cabinets on the wall, Henley begins gathering some supplies. Placing them on a rolling table, she pushes it toward the bed with her foot. She grabs a pair of gloves, saying nothing as she pulls them on and heads my way again. My mind races, desperately trying to process even a small fraction of the news I was just given while Henley handles my mess of a face and busted up shoulder, but I can’t. My rational thinking has officially gone on strike and my emotions are left running rampant with no control over where that takes my thoughts.
“Henley?” I ask, once she yanks off her gloves and tosses them into the trashcan.
“Hmm?” she asks, glancing back at me over her shoulder.
“Don’t tell anyone,” I plead, forcing back the tears. “Please.”
“Don’t tell anyone what?” Schrader asks, striding into the room. His eyes roam over me, making me feel uncomfortable as hell.
“That she hates needles,” Henley blurts. Looking to me quickly, her eyes fill with silent understanding. “Oops!” Slapping Schrader on the arm, she shrugs. “Looks like the secret’s out.”
“Who could fuckin’ blame her?” he winces. “Especially if you’re the one wieldin’ the damn thing.”
“Pussy,” she teases. Picking up my chart from the table, Henley tucks it under her arm and heads for the door. “I’ll be back with your discharge paperwork in a few. If you need anything, hit the call button on the side of the bed.”
“Thanks, Henley.”
Schrader is at my side before Henley manages to get the door closed. Sitting beside me, he brushes the tips of his fingers through my hair, brushing it over my shoulder so it tumbles down my back. “Those motherfuckers,” he mutters through gritted teeth as he lightly touches my bandage. “Jinks is here. He’s fillin’ out insurance shit down the hall.”
“You shouldn’t have called him.” Swatting his hand away, I shift in the bed so he isn’t touching me. “I’m fine and the club has enough to deal with right now.”
“He knew before I called him,” Schrader informs me. “Must’ve heard it on the scanners.” Wrapping an arm around me, he leans over and buries his face in my hair, breathing me in. “You scared the shit outta me, woman.”
“Don’t,” I croak, closing my eyes tightly. “Please, don’t.”
“I need to hold on to you for a minute,” his voice softens, lacking its usual strength. Bringing my hands up to his chest, I start to push him away and tell him how angry and hurt I still am because of Rachelle, but I can’t. Instead, my fingers tighten, fisting his cut and t-shirt. “Closer,” Schrader breathes, his other arm coming around me, carefully pulling me into his lap. As tears fall silently from my eyes, I press my cheek to his chest, wishing that his embrace could push back all heartache I feel churning in my chest.
My thoughts shift to the baby growing inside me. Only months ago, this news would have been a reason to celebrate. I always dreamed of being the mother that I never had. I wanted my babies to have two loving parents that would be there for them, no matter what, like Pop has always been there for Decoda and me. Now, happiness is the last thing on my mind. I feel like my body has betrayed me just as much as Troy did. Secretly, I had hoped that, in time, I would find a way to forget that he ever existed and pretend that I wasn’t so stupid and naïve.
Instead, he has given me a permanent reminder.
“Start the group hug without me?” My brother’s voice behind me pulls me from my thoughts. “I see how it is, assholes.”
“Hey.” Releasing my hold on Schrader, I slide back onto the mattress, making sure to swipe the tears from my eyes before making eye contact with either of them. Shifting on the bed, I slide my legs over the side to stand up.
Striding across the room, Jinks wraps his arms around me the moment my feet hit the floor. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks a lot, D,” I huff, rolling my eyes. “Tell me how you really feel.”
“If you really want to know,” he replies, releasing his hold on me enough to look me over. “I think you should be wrapped in bulletproof bubble wrap and never allowed to leave the lot again.”
“I’m fine,” I say again, for what feels like the millionth time since the gun fire started. “How about you save your bitchin’ and take me home.”
“Alright, alright,” Henley says, strutting into the room, her hips in full sway. “Boys, I need you to wait outside. I’ve gotta handle her discharge instructions, and I assume she doesn’t want to walk outta here in that thing,” she giggles, gesturing to the ugly blue and white gown they had me put on when I got here. “Then you’re all set.”
Schrader’s eyes shift from me, to my brother, to Henley, then back to me again. Though I can tell he wants to tell Henley to kiss his ass and refuse to leave the room, he doesn’t. Nodding his head, he pushes to his feet, following Jinks into the hall and closing the door behind them.
“Dr. Geiss and I put some things together for you,” she says, handing me a large manilla envelope. “She’s recommended a colleague of hers for you to see. There’s also some information on other options, as well as the name and contact information of a clinic in Knoxville.”
“Other options?” I ask, swallowing hard. “You mean abortion?”
“That’s only one option of many, Cheyenne,” she assures me, no doubt trying to put my mind at ease. “Everyone has their own beliefs on abortion, adoption, and all of that shit. I’m no different. However, you didn’t ask my personal opinion. Also, I make it a habit, while I am on duty, to present patients under my care with all the options and not push them in the direction that I would go if I were standing in your shoes.”
“And if I wanted your advice?” I ask, honestly wanting another take on this situation. “If you were standing here right now, dealing with these same circumstances, what would you do?”
“Best advice I can give you right now, Cheyenne,
is not to hide this shit from them.” Breathing deep, Henley points toward the door. “You know all too well how lies and secrets have a way of only makin’ shit worse. Besides, you’re gonna need their support.”
“They have enough on their plates as it is,” I reply, shaking my head. “I refuse to add to that. I can take care of myself and a baby, if that’s what happens. This isn’t their problem.”
“This meaning you?” she asks, arching a brow. “Or the baby?”
“I don’t see the point of splitting hairs.” I look down at my still flat mid-section. “Pretty safe to say we’re a package deal.”
“Are you really that afraid of their reaction?” she asks, studying me carefully.
“I fucked up,” I reply, honestly. “I keep fucking up.”
“Damn right you are,” she continues, taking a step closer to me. “Every single time you feel guilty. You didn’t do anything wrong, Cheyenne. He. Did.”
“I know that,” I admit, nodding my head. “Most of the time I even believe it.”
“Good.” Seeming satisfied with my answer, Henley flips through the stack of paperwork. “These are your prescriptions. Something baby friendly for pain, along with some antibiotics and an inflammatory to handle your busted-up self. You’re gonna be bruised and sore for a few days. Make sure to get lots of rest.” Pulling a pen from her pocket, she hands it to me. “Sign and date here and you’re good to go,” she smirks. “Unless you need to talk about anything else?”
“I’m good,” I assure her, scribbling my name quickly. “Thanks.”
“Not even about how you’re fucking Schrader?” My eyes shoot to hers, widening. Henley laughs. “Aha!” Clapping her hands, she smiles, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction. “I knew it!”
“Did he tell you?” I hiss, my eyes shooting to the door. “I’ll kill him.”
