by Hart, Eve R.
“Charming?” she asked but it almost sounded more like a statement.
“That would be me,” he said with a nod as he brought a damp cotton swab up to her lip.
“I assume you already know who I am,” she stated and didn’t bother to say her name. “What makes you qualified?”
He paused and chuckled under his breath.
“I’m a trained EMT. Is that good enough?” he shot back. She didn’t say anything and then he let her know the rest. “I was also trained as a combat medic. Served five years. Saw some shit. Took care of a lot of shit.”
With a firm nod, she accepted his help.
Charming worked three days a week as a paramedic because he loved the job, though he didn’t really need it. Since shit wasn’t usually crazy for the club, it hadn’t been an issue. I would never ask him to give it up but that didn’t mean I wasn’t on the lookout for a backup. It could never hurt to have someone with some sort of training in the medical field around because you never knew when shit like this happened.
And sure, this wasn’t really club related, exactly. But it was one of Petra’s girls, so yeah, it kind of was.
“I need to talk to Abigail,” I said as I got to my feet slowly.
“She’s out with Bridget and Claire,” Charming said but he wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I want to be there when you do.”
I took a long moment to study him. His jaw worked and I figured he was trying his best to hold his anger back. I got it, I fuckin’ did.
“Okay,” I told him as my hand came down on his shoulder. “We’ll take care of her. And everything else.” I pulled him in for a quick hug.
“Watch him,” he said to Petra and I almost laughed because I couldn’t believe that he was talking to her like that. But I respected it. And I had a feeling it was because emotions were running high right now. He probably didn’t even realize how it came out. “Call me if he starts vomiting or looks like he’s about to pass out.”
Then he was gone.
I walked over to the couch and sunk down. My head rested against the back and my eyes fell closed. I wasn’t going to sleep but I needed a break.
Petra was there a second later. A smile twitched on my lips when I felt her head rest on my thigh. My fingers automatically went to her hair, smoothing it over and over again.
I wanted to pull it out of that stupid holder that held it back so tightly but I was too drained.
“I’m sorry about your man,” she said softly.
“My brother,” I corrected her nicely.
“Your brother,” she said and I felt her head give a slight nod against my leg.
I kept my eyes closed as my lungs slowly pulled in as much air as they could. Then, just as slowly, I let it out. There was nothing that could be done. Dade was gone and there was no changing that fact. Even knowing there was nothing I could do didn’t make the pain stop. Didn’t make the loss feel any less real.
This was going to crush Abigail. And the club. I should have been able to protect him but I couldn’t. Just like I couldn’t save him after it happened.
My mind spun, replaying the moments over and over again in my head, trying to figure out where I could have done better.
“You shouldn’t have come looking for me,” Petra said causing me to clench my jaw.
It was a statement that could have been taken so many ways. But it was Petra and so I understood it was her way of admitting the blame that she felt on the inside.
“This wasn’t your fault, babe.” My hand continued to stroke over her hair. “Wasn’t any of ours except for those fuckers that took your girl.” And that was what it boiled down to.
If I knew the outcome would I still go in? Would I still do everything in my power to protect Petra? Yeah, of course, I would. Just like she’d do anything to protect and save Midori. Just like Dade gave his life trying to save mine.
It was who we were.
All of us.
And we shouldn’t have felt bad about it.
But then again, I was still breathing. Still had my life to go on with. Still had my woman. I knew what it was like to be the one left standing after the dust settled and one thing I’d tell you is that it never got easier. With each body that piled up in my walked path, it got harder, the weight of their souls bearing down on my shadow.
Dade died an honorable death. Some might not see it that way, but I did. I knew the club would as well.
I wasn’t sure how Abigail was going to take the news. Not great, I imagined, and I wouldn’t expect her to.
For a second, I wondered if she would turn on the club. Blame us for the whole thing and let her pain turn into hate. I’d seen shit like that happen before and what I’d learned was that you could never predict who would do that shit. So it didn’t matter that I didn’t feel like she was the type of person that would turn her back on us. Grief and loss made people do the unpredictable sometimes.
I wouldn’t blame her if she did. I promised Dade I’d look out for her and I intended to honor that promise until I took my last breath. Even if I had to do it from afar, I would.
“We need to shower,” I said softly as I tried to pull myself out of my thoughts.
We were both covered in blood. Most of it not our own.
Yeah, that should have been the first thing we did but right now I just didn’t give a shit. The damage was done. Her car was going to have to be wiped down and now parts of my place. I had a feeling someone was going to come looking for those two men. If luck was on our side, it wouldn’t be for a few more days.
I knew I’d have to call Connor at some point. I had to figure out some sort of explanation for Dade and since we were moving his body, I’d have to make it real fuckin’ good.
“Come on, Pet,” I said as I let my hand slide away from her head. “Up.”
She did as I said, walking to the bathroom without me having to say anything.
We stripped in silence. She piled everything in the sink, even her underwear and shoes. I reached for the trash bags under the sink and she gave me a knowing nod. Shaking it out, I held it open so she could dump everything in there. With her eyes on mine, she pulled her hair free and tossed the tie into the bag. Then she took the bag and held it open for me while I stripped down into nothing.
“Where’s your blade?” I asked as she stepped into the shower.
“I left it behind. Garen will take care of it for me.”
I nodded figuring this wasn’t the first time he’d had to wipe that thing clean for her. I damn well knew she liked her razor and that it was the same one I’d seen her use before.
We showered in silence. Each of us taking turns to make sure the other got all the blood off.
I turned to shut off the water but stopped when I felt her hands slide up my chest. Her breasts pressed into my back as I felt her lips at the base of my neck. My hands came up and I threaded my fingers through hers.
“I can’t make this right for you. I can’t fix it,” she whispered and I felt her forehead rest on my shoulder. “I don’t know what to do here, Iron.”
“You’re doin’ it, babe. Just your touch and being here is all I’ll ever need,” I told her softly.
I knew she struggled in situations like this but it meant a lot to me that she had said something. It showed me that she was trying and I was just so damn glad she was holding me up right now. I was a man but I also knew that some times that one woman could be stronger than us all. And Petra sure as fuck was that for me.
“What needs to be taken care of next?” she asked as I shut off the water and then reached for our towels.
“I need to call Connor O’Shay. See if we can figure out some way to work out Dade’s shooting as something it’s not. Still don’t trust that Detective Mullins. He called peace a while ago, but you never know how long that shit will last.”
She nodded, her eyes on the wall behind me like she was thinking real hard.
“But I want to wait until I talk to Dade’s sister, Abigail, first,
” I said and walked out of the bathroom.
She followed behind me, toweling off her hair.
She was already reaching for the tee I pulled out for her by the time I turned around with it in my hand. I let a small smile slip out. There was something about seeing a woman in your shirt, yeah. But there was really something about seeing Petra in mine. It meant even more to me that she never hesitated to wear it after she showered here.
And I loved how it was usually the only thing she wore.
She walked out to the living room while I went back into the bathroom and hung our towels up. I snatched up the brush before I headed back out.
She coyly smiled as she saw the brush in my hand. She knew it wasn’t for me since I preferred to brush my hair after it was dry, if I did brush it at all.
I flopped down on the couch and she settled on the floor next to my legs, her head automatically resting on my thighs.
I couldn’t tell you why I liked brushing her hair. And I couldn’t tell you why she liked me to. All I knew was that it calmed us both. I couldn’t deny that there was something about having Petra at my feet like that, either. It just didn’t seem like something she’d ever do. Not one of those things she’d give into even if she really wanted to. But she did for me.
My phone chimed after I worked through all the tangles in her hair. She leaned over, grabbed it off the coffee table and then handed it to me without even looking at it.
Trust.
It was a big thing for both of us.
I respected the level of trust that we had between us.
And I knew there would never be a damn thing that would cause me to break that.
“Charming says Abigail just got back,” I said as I read the text.
I let out a long, sad sigh, knowing that I couldn’t put this off any longer now that she was here.
“I’ll be in the bedroom,” Petra said as she got to her feet. She leaned over and placed a light kiss on my lips.
I knew she’d stay if I asked her to but I thought about Abigail. Petra was a bit terrifying even if you did truly know her like I did. I imagined having her there would only make Abigail more upset and frightened.
I got to my feet and sent Charming a text asking him to bring her up here. I didn’t want to do it out in the open and my apartment felt a little more relaxed than the office. That said, I knew nothing would ease the horrible news she was about to hear.
I heard two sets of footsteps coming up the stairs and I knew it was them.
I took a deep breath and headed for the door.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Petra
Just because I didn’t understand emotions, didn’t mean that they didn’t sneak up on me sometimes.
Like now, I couldn’t tell you how or what I was feeling, I just knew it wasn’t normal. For me, at least.
I might have been in the bedroom but this place was far from soundproof. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop on the conversation but I didn’t have much of a choice.
Iron’s tone was soft as he delicately told the girl the details of what had happened earlier. There was a long silence that followed and I imagined that she was probably in shock. I figured that was the first thing that people went through when they’d learned that a loved one had died.
I shook my head but I wasn’t sure why.
“Abigail,” I whispered out so quietly it barely registered to my ears.
She wasn’t simply some girl. She was the sister of one of Iron’s men. And if I understood it correctly, it was as if she was part of Iron’s family.
Beyond that, I didn’t know a single thing about her.
Something pinched in my abdomen and I almost… hated… that I had no connection to this girl. I didn’t know what she looked like. Or maybe I did, only I didn’t know a name to go with her face.
I had no clue if she lived here in the city or at the compound. Or perhaps she was only visiting. I wasn’t one hundred percent sure, but I thought that only the men lived here and possibly not all of them. The compound seemed more like a sleep-the-night-off type of place. But then again, I didn’t have the first clue.
I didn’t know because I hadn’t made an effort to find out.
There always seemed to be a bunch of people around whenever I was here. It didn’t matter what time of day it was.
Then an agonizing cry filtered into my ears. It was such a heartbreaking sound that a shiver ran down my spine.
I couldn’t explain why. Nor could I begin to say what the twinge of pain in my heart was.
Sympathy, perhaps.
I’d never known the loss of a brother simply because I didn’t have siblings. So there was no way I could understand what she was going through. Yet, there was a part of me that grew cold as if all the lights had gone out in the dead of winter. It wasn’t like the kind of icy cold that I usually kept wrapped around myself. This didn’t make me feel strong. No, it was the opposite.
I could no longer hear their words because the ringing in my ears was so loud.
I took a deep breath and tried to shake off the strangeness that was surrounding me.
I had a feeling I wouldn’t be leaving this room anytime soon. Iron was the comforting type and I knew he wouldn’t let her go until he felt it was okay. I suspected that would be a while.
I curled up on the bed but I wasn’t tired. And even if I was, I wouldn’t dare let myself sleep. I had to be awake for him when it was all over. Or really, I wanted to be. Because it mattered to me that I was there and ready to catch him when he collapsed.
Iron was strong. I never thought of him as weak, not even when he let me tie him down. Not even when I gave him commands that he followed without question. Not even when he stuck by my side and came when I called. He wasn’t weak, not even a little bit. It took a strong man to let a woman lead him around. And it was an even stronger man that bowed down when he already sat on the throne.
I started to think about it even more.
I loved Iron, as much as I think I could love someone.
I couldn’t exactly explain what that meant, but all I knew for sure was that if anything happened to him, I would lose something myself. I’d even say that I’d lose a part of me. I didn’t think I would feel whole without him and it might have taken me this long to realize it.
My chest began to hurt. A dull ache throbbed in my heart. The more I thought about it, the more I felt almost a sense of panic.
With a deep breath, that I held in for far too long, I started to think about what it was like to lose someone.
I should know.
I had once.
I had seen my father gutted for no reason other than he wanted to protect his family.
I’d been there, sitting in the living room. The fireplace lit up from the dancing flames in the corner, providing enough heat to keep the room warm. My mother was sewing a patch on my father’s work pants and she softly hummed while she worked the needle in and out of the fabric. She’d done this many times and I’d always sat beside her while she did.
The lock on the door didn’t stop the men from entering the house. And my mother’s screams didn’t stop them from carrying out what they’d come there to do.
One of them held me down. Another did the same to my mother. My father fought against the third one, but he wasn’t a fighting man. My dad didn’t stand a chance.
I couldn’t turn my head away as the man stabbed my father four times in the chest. He did it without a care that I was there. Without a care that my mother was there. With one final swipe of his blade, my father’s stomach split open. The man left him there like he was nothing, blood pouring out of his body and covering the floor.
Then he came for me.
Only, death wasn’t my gift from them that night.
I tried to remember if I felt scared or angry. Or if I screamed and fought. I tried to bring back the fear that I must have felt when they held me down and tore my clothes away from my body.
But there was nothing to bring
forth except the images of what happened that night.
Even picturing their hands all over me didn’t shock some kind of emotion to run through my veins.
I thought hard, trying to remember if I had cried then.
Or after when we laid my father to rest.
I had been fourteen.
Old enough to know what was going on but too young to do anything about it.
I couldn’t remember how I felt.
Or if I ever had.
I only remember watching my mother cry and cry and cry until she had nothing left to give. I felt like I had to be strong for her. So that must have been why I didn’t cry. Someone had to pick up the pieces and my mother had been too heartbroken to do it.
My mother loved my father dearly, that much I knew. But I couldn’t recall how I knew that.
I suspected that I might feel a touch of what she had if something were to happen to Iron.
It was clear Iron cared for me deeply. Not only did he say it— and mean it— he showed me in so many ways. What had I ever done for him? How could I show him that he meant something to me? I somehow didn’t think that saying it was enough but I couldn’t wrap my head around why.
I closed my eyes and I almost felt his warm hand stroking over my hair. Even when he brushed the tangles out he was gentle, always working from the bottom up like he knew the best way to do it without hurting me. And his free hand would run down behind the brush smoothing the stray strands.
“Hey,” Iron said softly and I heard the door close with a soft click.
I opened my eyes and watched as he crawled onto the bed. He mirrored my pose, facing me.
“What’s wrong, Pet?” he asked and I could hear the worry in his tone. My eyes closed briefly as he sweetly ran his hand over my hair. “What’s this look? I’ve never seen it before.”
To some, it would have seemed like a strange thing to say. I guess in a way, it was. But I understood it completely.
“I don’t know,” I told him honestly. “How is she?”
