Techy (Devil Souls MC Book 2)

by LeAnn Ashers

  I look up at him and smile. His expression softens, and he smiles gently.

  “How are you feeling, angel?”

  “I feel okay,” I tell him, and I do.

  When I move my arm, something taps against it. Looking up, I see an IV, and then I look at the doctor taking care of me, who I am guessing is Myra.

  “I gave you some morphine,” she confesses.

  I nod.

  “Thank you, Myra.”

  She smiles. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” she tells me and slips two bottles into Jordan’s hand. “These are some pain meds and a strong antibiotic to kill off anything that we don’t know about.”

  “Thank you.”

  She smiles before walking out of the room. A huge man is standing at the door, waiting for her. He takes her bag from her, and they walk down the hallway together. This house feels huge, but I guess even a normal house would feel huge to me after living in a trailer my whole life.

  I turn my gaze back to Jordan, who is staring at my face, and I can feel his anger. “I am okay, Jordan,” I assure him. One would think I would feel nervous around him considering the fact that the only time we have talked is on FaceTime.

  I just feel like it will be okay.

  “Welcome home,” he says and smiles widely at me.

  “Home?” I say under my breath. I don’t know what that is. I barely know Jordan. I mean, we FaceTimed a lot, but we have never met in person before.

  Still, he has gone to great lengths to get me out of the situation I was in. He has shown me more care than I have gotten in my entire life.

  Every single day, we would FaceTime for hours, talking about anything and everything and getting to know each other. I know the littlest things about him, like how he eats his spaghetti with a spoon and how he cuts it up into small bits. I know how he likes his steak and that he hates onions.

  A hand touches my hair, and I look up at Techy. He’s lying beside me in bed, staring directly at me. I feel so shitty right now; I can only imagine how horrible I look.

  “I wish you would have told me sooner about the life you had. I could have gotten you out sooner,” he tells me and grabs a piece of my hair, twisting it between his fingers.

  I close my eyes and turn away from him, my eyes brimming with tears.

  I wanted more than anything to be away from the life I had. I was constantly beaten and always had at least one bruise on my body from my father. All the men in my father’s life were exactly like him: strung out and evil.

  I wanted my mother to have a good life, to get away from him, but my father got her hooked and the addiction took her life over. Her main goal in life is finding that next high and doing whatever she possibly can for that next fix. My father took advantage of that and pimped her out for almost nothing.

  My house was the place where those men used her. I remember that, when I was a kid, porn was always on the TV and my mother would just lie there naked as one man after another used her and my father reaped the benefits. He would shoot up and shoot her up while she was being used.

  I am so blessed that my father didn’t use me, but one day, he would have turned his attention to me. My life was hell for as long as I can remember. How do I act now that I am away from that? What do I do from here?

  “I will take care of you,” Jordan whispers into my ear.

  I nod. I squeeze my eyes shut to keep the tears in.

  “Alisha, I’m going to hold you,” Jordan says bluntly.

  I look at him. He smiles softly at me and scoots down on the mattress. He tucks his head in the crook of my neck, and I let out a deep breath at the feel of him.

  He drags his hand slowly, gently across my stomach. His hand touches mine and he twines our fingers together. I close my eyes and enjoy the feel of being held, his breath on my neck, and, most of all, being completely safe.

  Feeling safe hasn’t happened easily for me. When you’ve spent your whole life walking on eggshells and all of a sudden you don’t have to anymore? The weight of the world is lifted off your shoulders.

  “Sleep. No harm will come to you.”

  It’s like he knows what I am thinking.

  I tilt my head over to the side so it’s resting on top of his head. When I lift my arm and place my hand on his back, his body jolts at my touch before settling.

  “Goodnight,” I whisper into the darkness of the room.

  “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

  I smile to myself and close my eyes.

  Groaning, I shift in bed. I thought I was sore yesterday, but the word sore is going to have a new meaning today. I have to pee something fierce. I grab the side of the bed and lift myself up until I am sitting up. I slide my leg over the bed and slide off the edge until my feet hit the floor.

  “Let me help you, angel,” Jordan says from the bed.

  I look over and see him climbing out of bed in a pair of ball shorts. He is shirtless, and I see his eight pack. His tattoos run down his arms and wrap around his chest.

  “It’s okay. I got it.” I clutch my stomach and my ribs. Each step jars them, and I moan. Peeing is going to hurt like a bitch because he kicked my kidneys.

  “Let me help you.” He comes up behind me, bends down, and lifts me off the floor bridal-style.

  The move makes me tense, and I hiss in pain. I feel bad when he looks at me sympathetically.

  “It’s okay.” I smile at him.

  His face softens. I lay my head on his chest for a second like I am hugging him.

  He walks us into his bathroom, and I stare at the room in awe. The shower could hold ten people, and it has four showerheads. On the other side of the room is a huge Jacuzzi bathtub. Oh, I would so love to take a bath in that. The tub at the trailer was rusted out and gross all around.

  “Want to take a bath?” He must have seen me looking.

  I nod and say, “Please.”

  He sets me down right in front of the toilet and walks out of the room, but he stops right at the entrance. “Yell for me when you are done.”

  The door shuts with a click, and I remove a pair of boxers he let me borrow and a shirt Myra brought me. Each movement hurts like a bitch.

  I sit on the toilet and let go. “Oww,” I cry out as I pee. I look into the toilet and see that I’m peeing blood.

  The door flies open and Jordan runs in. He looks at me and immediately turns around. I am in too much pain to even care that he is seeing me pee.

  “What is it?” he asks.

  I dry my eyes. I feel pathetic. Why would he want to be around someone like me? All I have done is cry since the moment he rescued me.

  “I am pissing blood,” I say bitterly. After I wipe and stand up, I slowly pull the boxers up and walk over to the sink to wash my hands.

  “Let me grab some pain meds.” He leaves the room.

  I look at myself in the mirror. There are bruises all over my face, on my neck, and on my arms. I wince at the sight of my stomach, which is literally one big bruise that starts from the top of my pants and goes to my ribs.

  I’m still inspecting my stomach when Jordan comes back into the room. His hand touches my stomach and I jolt. I see his furious expression and grab his hand to get his attention. His gaze goes to mine, and I smile.

  “It’ll heal.”

  He nods and turns it over, and drops a pill into my palm. Then he hands me a glass of water. I pop the pill into my mouth and take a drink of the water to wash it down.

  “I’m going to run you a bath. I want you to relax while I go make breakfast,” he tells me and pushes my hair over my shoulder.

  I start to argue with him because I’m not used to anyone making me breakfast. Actually, I’m not sure of the last time I had an actual breakfast. A real, fresh breakfast, not some leftovers or something. My mouth waters at the thought of having such food. Food was always hard to come by in my house. When we did have food, I would stockpile it in case we wouldn’t have more for a while. Which was often the case.

  “Thank you, Jo
rdan. I don’t know how to act, with you being so nice and all,” I admit and clasp my hands in front of me, nervously wringing them together.

  He looks at me and my breath comes out in a whoosh. I forgot how handsome this man is. This man got me through some rough times and he didn’t even know it. Just seeing his face and hearing his jokes over FaceTime were enough to give me hope in humanity. He gave me something to look forward to.

  “That’s a fucking shame,” he says. “You deserve to be treated this way every day.” He strokes my bruised cheekbone.

  I close my eyes at the touch. I’m not used to gentle touches. The first hug I’ve had in years was from him.

  How my life has changed in these twelve short hours.

  Yesterday, I was in hell, and now, I’m not. What do I do now? How do I act? I don’t have to walk on eggshells now or be so tense or worry all the freaking time. It’s a weird feeling.

  The water turning on in the tub breaks me from my thoughts. He sets down a bath poof, a razor, body wash, shampoo, and conditioner and puts in some bubble bath. I smile at how sweet and thoughtful he is.

  He turns around and notices me smiling. His eyebrows arch, and then he gets that mischievous smirk he sometimes gets. I have to roll my eyes.

  “Can I have directions?” he asks.

  I look at him, confused. “To where?”

  “Your heart.”

  I burst out laughing. That’s the Jordan I know. He used to crack these random jokes all the time, and no matter how ridiculous and cheesy they were, I loved it.

  He grins at me, and I shake my head, smiling.

  “I will grab you another shirt of mine and a pair of boxers.” He leaves the room and comes back a minute later. He hands me a towel and the clothes. Leaving the room, he shuts the door behind him.

  I let out a deep breath, wincing in pain. I strip out of the boxer shorts. I climb the small steps to get into the tub, step inside, slowly sit down, and lean back against the back of it.

  Letting out a moan, I sink farther in so that the water is up to my collarbone. This is the best thing in the world. The water stings my cuts, but the heat is so soothing to my body.

  I can’t stop the grin that comes over my face, but it immediately falls as I look at my body covered in bruises from the man who hurt me. My father. The man who was supposed to protect and love me above everything else. I feel betrayed. My chest hurts at the pain.

  Gritting my teeth, I close my eyes, unable to look at the bruises any longer. They are too painful of a reminder of the hell I just escaped.

  I prepare the steak-and-potato dinner for us. I want to fatten her up. She is way too skinny. Her ribs stick out way too far.

  Those bruises that cover her skin set me on edge. I want to bring her father back from the dead and kill him all over again. What gives anyone the fucking right to hurt someone like that? Let alone his own daughter?

  I smash the knife on the counter, sharp edge down. Closing my eyes, I brace my hands on the edge of the counter and count to ten, wanting this anger to be gone before she walks down those stairs.

  Shit, I probably need to go help her. It’s been thirty minutes. So I plate the food and place it in the microwave so it will stay warm.

  I climb up the stairs and enter my bedroom. Knocking on the bathroom door, I call through. “Angel, you okay?”

  It’s silent. Shit, is she okay?

  “Angel?” I call again, and it’s still silent.

  Fuck this shit. I open the door. She is sound asleep, with only her head sticking out of the water, her bath poof tucked under her arms. Her dark lashes fan across her cheekbones, her lips are pursed, and her wet hair floats around her in the tub.

  She’s beautiful.

  The bubbles have dispersed, which leaves her body on display. I take her in—she’s gorgeous. I spot the towel on the counter, grab it, and walk over to her sleeping form. I bend down to be closer to her and whisper, “Angel, wake up.” I touch her shoulder.

  Her eyes slowly open and connect with mine. She smiles a blinding smile, and it hits me right in the gut. Fuck me.

  “Hey, sweetheart.”

  She looks at her surroundings. Her eyes widen, and she brings her hands to her breasts, hiding herself.

  “Here.” I hand her the towel and reach behind me to grab another one out of the drawer. “I’m going to help you out of the tub,” I tell her, not taking my eyes off her to gauge her reaction.

  She looks slightly freaked, but she nods.

  “I’m going to lift you out so you don’t hurt yourself trying to stand.” I put the extra towel over my shoulder. I move closer to her and look directly into her eyes to let her know I won’t look at her body.

  I slip one hand behind her back, and then I put the other in the water. I bring my hand under her knee. My gaze doesn’t leave hers, and hers softens. I move to my knees, and then I lift her out of the water. She winces as I lift her, and it breaks my heart. I move to my feet, bringing her to my chest.

  I gently set her on top of the counter. I look back into her eyes. I grab the towel on my shoulder and wrap it around her so she doesn’t get cold.

  I take the one she was clutching to her chest away because it’s soaked and throw it into the sink. I wrap the towel tighter around her and reach into the drawer for another towel and a hand towel.

  He sets the towel in my lap to cover me up completely. I am in awe of this person. How he gently lifted me out of the water so I wouldn’t get hurt made me feel special. He grabs the hand towel and moves in the direction of my hair.

  Is he really going to dry my hair?

  My question is answered when he grabs my wet hair and starts to dry it. I close my eyes at the feel of being cared for in such a way. I can’t remember the last time I was showed affection like this, and it feels wonderful.

  My throat thickens as tears threaten to escape my eyes. I hear a cabinet opening and then feel a hairbrush moving through my long locks.

  A sob escapes me, and I clamp my hand over my mouth. I feel his gaze on my face, so I suck it up and open my eyes. I will not cry again. That part of my life is over. I will not let it get me down. I am out of that situation and I will never go back—no matter what happens.

  “Angel,” he breaths out softly.

  I shake my head. “I’m okay,” I whisper.

  He continues brushing my hair. Closing my eyes again, I enjoy the…what? Soothing? Yes, the soothing feel of him brushing my hair.

  “Do you need me to help you get dressed?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “I’ll be fine. Just help me down from the counter.”

  He moves closer to me and scoops me up bridal-style again. Gently placing me onto my feet, he tells me, “I’ll be right outside. When you are ready, I will help you downstairs for dinner.”

  He walks out of the bathroom, and the door shuts with a soft click. I let my breath out in a whoosh. Jordan is something I can’t describe. The way he brushed my hair so gently made me realize how much I have been missing in my life. How I want love and affection.

  Leaning back against the counter, I bend to slip on the pair of boxers Techy let me borrow, and my ribs scream at me. I pant at the exertion and rise again, clutching my side and wanting the ache to stop.

  Then I slip my arms into the huge, baggy T-shirt. Pain racks my body with every movement. I slip the shirt over my head and grit my teeth. Then I straighten and the shirt falls down my body. Sweat beads on my forehead from the strain. Earlier, when Jordan was here, I’d forgotten about the pain, but now, it’s almost unbearable. I wish this would go away.

  “Ready,” I yell through the door to Jordan.

  The door swings open a second later. I look awful. I have to. I feel it. I just want some kind of relief from the pain, from the memories.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  I nod. “Just in pain from bending over,” I admit and take a step closer to him.

  That sets him in motion. He moves over to me and gently picks me up.
Not able to resist, I lay my head on his broad chest.

  “Let’s get you fed.”

  I nod, and he walks with me in his arms down the stairs and into a very large kitchen. To my surprise, he walks straight past it until we reach an even bigger living room with a huge couch. The living room has floor-to-ceiling windows that give a gorgeous view of the grassy fields. A huge, tall fence surrounds the house. It’s really calming and beautiful.

  My back touches the back of the couch and I take my arm from around his neck. He removes his arms from under my legs and gently stretches my leg out so I am sitting in the corner of the couch.

  “Thank you, Jordan.” I touch his arm.

  He looks me directly in the face. “You’re welcome, angel.”

  Butterflies swarm in my belly at his term of endearment.

  When he tucks a blanket over my lap and steps away from me, saying, “Let me go get your food,” I smile.

  Then he walks into the kitchen and I look around the room. Above the fireplace is a huge TV. In fact, it’s the biggest TV I have ever seen. I can’t tell you the last time we owned a TV. I remember watching cartoons about fifteen years ago, but then my dad sold it for drugs.

  Jordan walks into the room, carrying two plates filled to the brim with food and two sodas. He sets both of the plates on the coffee table, and then he lifts one and sets it on my lap. I look at the food before me: a huge steak and a baked potato. I cannot tell you the last time I had a meal like this. Hell, I have never had a meal like this. My belly rumbles and I want to pick the steak up with my hands and stuff my face.

  “Here’s your silverware and drink.”

  I reach forward, taking the fork and the knife from him. I set it on my plate and grab the soda. I’ve never had a soda before. That tells you how my life was, doesn’t it?

  “Jordan, seriously, I don’t know how to thank you for this.” I feel the emotion in my voice. This means everything to me. This meal will make me feel so much better. I haven’t been full in a long time. Hell, I hadn’t even eaten for two days before Jordan came and rescued me.

  Jordan’s eyes soften, and I have to look away before I break down in tears. Food isn’t something most people think twice about, but to me, it’s different. My entire life, I have scraped by and hidden food. To me, this is everything.