“Hmm.” What the fuck else could he say?
The kid grunted. Suddenly, a horrendous smell enveloped the closed-in car.
No. This wasn’t fucking happening.
Scowling, he flipped on the overhead light and turned, focusing on Outlaw’s son. A glazed expression blanketed his face. He was having the shit of a lifetime.
Digger frowned and held his breath, attempting to trick his brain into accepting the stench because he expected it. He exhaled. Annoyance welled in him. The mind game hadn’t worked. It still reeked to high fucking heaven.
“What the fuck your little ass ate?”
Little Man widened his eyes and thought for a moment.
“Hungry, Dig!” he yelled as if Digger’s words reminded him that he hadn’t eaten in hours. As if the foul odor he’d caused wouldn’t fuck up their smell receptors for years to come.
Nasty little motherfucker.
The windows slid down and fresh air blew around the aroma of smoke and shit clinging to the three of them.
The driver cleared his throat and scowled at Digger. He glowered back. He was the nosy motherfucker who’d stopped.
“My tummy hurts! Hungry!”
He had to give it to the kid. He’d not once complained of hunger until Digger mentioned it. A lesson learned. Digger should’ve shut the fuck up about food and Little Man wouldn’t have started his loud ass crying all over again. Folding his arms, he glowered into the dark, just wanting this fucking night over.
“Shut the fuck up!” he said in frustration. “I don’t have nothing to feed you right now.”
“Got a half-eaten bag of chips,” the driver said, nodding to the glove compartment.
Digger grabbed they bag and shoved it at the kid. “Eat that and shut the fuck up.”
The kid listened. Thank you, Jesus.
Nearing one in the morning, they arrived at Gabe’s tattoo shop. Despite the late hour, lights shone from inside, a good sign to Digger. In silence, the man watched Digger take Bunny into his arms and order Little Man out of the car, right beneath the blaze of a street light. He frowned at the shit stain on his beige seat.
A tug on his jeans made Digger glance down and look into tear-filled green eyes, missing the driver’s departure.
“Want home,” Little Man said around sniffles.
“I’m gonna get you home,” he promised, then turned to the tattoo shop. “Soon. For now, stay close to me and keep quiet, kid. Understand?”
“I unnerstand, Dig.”
“Come on.” Keeping a close watch on Outlaw’s son and adjusting Bunny in his arms, Digger started across the street. At the shop entrance, he hesitated. If Gabe had company or wasn’t in at all, Digger would be in trouble.
He had to do something, though. If he didn’t keep moving, he risked discovery and not by some old motherfucker who seemed a Good Samaritan but was just fucking nosy.
Unable to maneuver the door and hold Bunny, he kicked on the glass, the thump not very loud. After of few minutes with no results, he repeated the move.
“Motherfucker,” he said under his breath when no one answered.
Little Man tipped his head back to look at him.
“Can’t open the fucking door,” Digger explained.
After an exaggerated nod, the kid squeezed in front of him and stood on his tiptoes, trying to reach the handle. He wasn’t tall enough to succeed. It fucking figured.
“’Law say on boot.”
When Digger frowned, Little Man pointed down. Since Digger couldn’t see the ground with Bunny in his arms, he said, “What?”
“On boot, Dig!” Little Man growled in frustration.
Scowling, Digger stepped back, to better glare at Outlaw’s son. “What the fuck that mean?”
“Boot, ashfuck!” he ordered, pointing again, looking uncannily like his old man when he glared at him.
Not waiting for Digger to understand him, Little Man lifted himself onto Digger’s boots, stood on his tiptoes and grunted as he attempted to pull open the heavy door. Understanding dawning on him, Digger turned and caught the door with his body weight before it fully closed. That left him facing away from the interior and unable to call out.
“Squeeze your lil’ ass through the gap and go find some motherfucker to help us,” Digger instructed around puffs of breaths.
“‘Kay.”
Digger managed to allow the kid just enough room to follow directions before he released his strained hold on the door. He turned as Little Man disappeared around the corner. He couldn’t imagine a motherfucker in the shop not hearing the type of commotion that had just gone on, especially if the fucking door was unlocked.
A few minutes passed before Digger adjusted his position again. Just as he threw Bunny over his shoulder, Little Man led Gabe toward the door.
Through the glass, Digger saw the resemblance between Bunny and her brother. They both had the same brown hair and similar height. While Bunny was tall for a woman, Gabe was average sized for a dude.
Upon seeing them, Gabe also lost what little color left in his face. “What happened?” he asked, the moment he pushed open the door and allowed them to enter. “It has to be bad for Outlaw’s son to be running alone in my shop in the middle of the night and smelling like shit and smoke.”
Yeah, the little motherfucker had quite the aroma.
“Can I get in trouble with Outlaw?” Gabe continued. “Will he kill me?” Well, that might explain why he looked so sick.
Obviously, it hadn’t dawned on him that Digger carried his sister since only her legs and ass were visible. “Your sister been hurt bad,” he said, indicating Bunny with a nod.
“Jesus!” Without asking any more questions, Gabe turned the lock on the door. “Follow me.”
As he left the reception area, Gabe flipped off the lights, then headed past the area where the outlines of two tattoo chairs loomed in the darkness. He paused long enough to close the door of the only private room in the shop. Afterward, he led Digger to another door. Cold, rancid air blasted in when he opened it, but, having no choice, he followed behind Outlaw’s son, who stumbled behind Gabe.
“The alleyway is kind of dark,” Gabe explained unnecessarily as he locked the shop door.
“No fucking shit,” Digger grumbled. Kind of dark? What a fucking understatement. He barely saw in front of him, until Gabe raised up his cell phone, a flashlight shining from the screen.
They walked down the long alley and turned a corner, arriving at a small house.
Walking into the house, Gabe kicked aside pizza boxes and beer cans in the living room. He kicked shit out the way all the way to bedroom, where he moved crates off a bed. Only because his arms and shoulders were going fucking numb did Digger lay Bunny down.
“This not your room,” he said, studying the crowded space and bare mattress.
“No, my room’s across the hall.”
“Either you find some sheets and covers for this bed or I’m bringing her in your room.”
Little Man started to climb next to Bunny.
“No,” Digger said firmly, and the kid halted immediately, uncertainty dropping into his face. “You got to clean up.”
“I tired.”
“I don’t care, kid. You can’t put your little shitty ass on this bed.”
For a moment, Little Man looked at him, his eyes going wide before they filled with tears and he face-planted onto the mattress with a loud wail. Bunny jumped and groaned, but didn’t open her eyes, while Little Man hung half on and half off the bed, sobbing.
“Fuck, kid. I got a fucking headache. Can you please shut the fuck up?”
Instead of quieting, Little Man cried harder.
“Um, why don’t I see to him,” Gabe suggested, not waiting for Digger to answer. “Come on, CJ.” He lifted the bawling boy under one arm and hurried out of the room, leaving Digger alone with Bunny and the lingering stench.
Spying a window, he opened it, breathing in the brisk air and clearing his own lungs. H
e’d inhaled his fair share of smoke as well, but whatever Bunny had been suffering with at first hadn’t helped her.
He turned to look at her, again noting her loveliness, her peaches and cream complexion currently marred by soot. Her long lashes fanned high cheekbones and pretty lips, while her hair reminded him of coffee beans, shiny and rich. Bone-straight, the ends reached her breasts.
She had such a soft, sweet look, with no hint of the lifestyle she’d once led. Maybe, some chicks didn’t allow whatever trials they went through to make them mean and bitter.
Like Peyton had.
Brooding, he walked out of the room and shook his head at the mess in the apartment. The compact kitchen revealed dirty dishes and glasses strewn across the counter while pots and pans sat forgotten in the sink. Flies buzzed around the overflowing trashcan.
Gabe was a fucking slob. No doubt about it.
He needed to fill a pan with warm water to clean Bunny up. Maybe, he’d even discover the source of her injury. By then, he hoped she awakened. If she didn’t, he wasn’t sure what he’d do.
As he opened the cabinet doors, he realized all the kitchen shit Gabe owned was dirty.
“Filthy motherfucker.”
Finding the biggest pan—which wasn’t that fucking big—Digger moved all the other dirty cookware to a stove crusted with burned sauces. At least, Gabe had dish detergent. Scrubbing the pan as clean as possible, Digger then returned to the room where Bunny lay. He wouldn’t fill the pan with water until he found clean towels and something for her to wear.
Bunny hadn’t moved, and Digger scrubbed a hand over his face.
“I know what went down at the club,” Gabe said, into the silence.
Digger whirled and glared at him. “You lucky I’m not fucking carrying no heat, fool. You scared me.” He glanced in the hallway behind Gabe. “The kid?”
“In my room. I thought I’d let Bunny use it since I only have one sheet set.”
Without responding, Digger lifted Bunny into his arms again. In Gabe’s room, he halted. Not only because Little Man had climbed onto the bed with his hair still damp and no clothes on, but because the sheets were an odd grayish color.
“When the last time you washed this shit?”
Gabe flushed. “About six months ago. I’ve been busy,” he said defensively when Digger glared at him. “Bunny used to clean up for me but ever since she started working for Meggie, she hasn’t had the time.”
“Let the record show if she get sicker from this nasty bed, I’m fucking you up.”
Not responding to Digger’s threat, Gabe stared at his sister with concern as Digger laid her down. “Wh-what’s wrong with her?”
“A fucking lot,” he said, explaining his version of events right up until they landed at the tattoo shop. “That’s why I need your help. Bunny need medical attention.”
“I’ll bring her to a hospital.”
“No! You not fucking hearing me. Outlaw looking for me. Sharper looking for me, Little Man, and Bunny.”
“Yeah, but if I get Bunny and CJ back to Outlaw, they’ll be safe.”
“If I let them go, I’ll be dead,” he countered. “I have no means to get out of town or nothing. If we stay here and Outlaw find me with his kid, he might give me a chance to explain.”
“Hell no!” Gabe flared. “I’m not allowing you to use my sister as your goddamn bargaining chip.”
“You don’t have a fucking choice,” Digger snapped, advancing toward Gabe. “They stay with me until I figure out how to make Outlaw listen to my side.”
Although Digger was several inches taller, Gabe straightened his shoulders, determined to hold his ground. “Fuck you.”
Balling his fist, Digger punched Gabe in the jaw and sent him reeling back. The dude recovered quick and swung at Digger, clipping his chin. Losing his patience, Digger kicked Gabe’s leg and grabbed him in a headlock before he fell to the ground.
“Listen, motherfucker, I don’t want to have to break your fucking neck to shut you the fuck up.” He put pressure on Gabe’s neck to emphasize his point. “I’m not going to hurt her.” Not anymore. Besides, she’d only been trying to save the kid. She shouldn’t lose her life after doing something as brave as trying to save the kid. “I need help. I need a place to take her and Little Man so we can be safe. I need medical supplies. I don’t need bullshit.” He’d had enough to last a lifetime. “I think Bunny love you a lot, so I’m not fucking you up yet, but I promise I will if I have to.”
Gabe’s pulse pounded beneath Digger’s fingertips. If he had to kill him, he’d be another innocent victim. Digger couldn’t blame the dude for trying to protect his sister.
“We clear on where we stand, bro?”
Gabe nodded and Digger shoved him away, watching as Gabe doubled over and coughed.
“I need towels. Clean towels and something for her to wear. I also need your fucking cell phone.”
“I’m not going to betray you,” he said hoarsely, holding onto the wall.
“At the fucking moment. But when I leave your company to take care of Bunny, you might decide to call some motherfucker.”
“While you’re caring for her, I could leave if you have my phone.”
“Not if I fucking tie you up. Even better, I can knock you the fuck out.”
Gabe glanced toward the door and then the bedroom where Bunny and Little Man lay. “If I help you and Outlaw find out, I’m dead.”
“All you have to do is make sure he don’t find out.”
“You kidnapped my sister.”
“She had Outlaw’s son. Now, I only want to save both of them.”
“They’re safe now, so—”
“So, fuck it,” Digger snapped, tired of the wrangling. “Keep the bitch. I’ll just get the kid and clear the fuck out.” He’d tie Gabe up, so he’d get a head start to….somewhere. But Digger didn’t intend to stand there for hours, negotiating with the motherfucker. “And if the kid get to be too fucking much for me without her, I’ll just get rid of him.” He allowed the insinuation to hang in the air. Instead of telling him if he had to, he’d leave the kid somewhere…outside a fire department or police station, or even the hospital, he allowed Gabe to believe that he meant to kill Outlaw’s son.
Handing Digger his cell phone, Gabe quickly found two raggedy washcloths and a threadbare towel. “Motherfucker, you need a study in home economics. Basic fucking housekeeping might work, too.”
“I told you I’ve been busy.”
“You just got fucking busier. While I’m cleaning up Bunny, you start doing the kitchen. We haven’t eaten in hours and I don’t want to get food poisoning from dirty fucking dishes. Scrub them. Hard. And with lots of hot water.”
“You’re insulting,” Gabe threw over his shoulder as he stomped in the direction of the kitchen.
While Digger still didn’t trust the motherfucker not to pull a fucking trick, he had to see to Bunny, so he went to the bathroom, placed the pan under the bathtub faucet, and ran the hot water. Raising the toilet seat, Digger frowned. If he didn’t have to piss so bad, he’d walk the fuck away. In case some airborne disease floated from the disgusting toilet, he held his dick as far away as possible, then raised his leg and used his foot to flush.
The clubhouse toilets were cleaner than this one would ever be again. What the fuck was wrong with Gabe?
Turning off the faucet, he lifted the filled pan and headed back to the room where Bunny lay. After using his arm to slide shit aside on the crowded dresser and sitting the pan down, Digger turned to her.
First, he wiped her face off, removing both soot and makeup, and frowning at the light bruise on her cheeks and the small cut near her eye. Fresh injuries.
Studying them a second longer and ignoring the ugly thought that Trader might’ve had something to do with them, Digger grabbed one of her feet, smiling at her polished toenails. A woman’s feet were important. He couldn’t be with a bitch who had ugly, unkempt nails. Cracked and chipped polish was fucking
trifling. Straight-up. One nail? Fine. That could be overlooked until it was corrected. All the nails? It was a turn-off to Digger.
For some reason, he raised her hand, merely to check her nails. He found them unpolished but neatly trimmed. The bottom of her feet were dirty and bleeding, the result of not wearing shoes. At some point today, she’d lost them.
He sat next to Bunny and positioning her so he could pull her shirt up. Doing so revealed a serviceable blue cotton bra. Nothing to impress a motherfucker. The thought pleased him and he grinned in approval.
Seeing the black and purple bruises covering her arms and stomach melted his smile. He slid a finger over one and frowned at the raised skin. She’d rolled out of the way with Little Man during the gun battle, then she’d fallen earlier, but had either event been hard enough to cause the type of damage he saw? The marks just reaffirmed Digger’s belief of what had happened. Or who had happened. Trader. He must’ve beaten her up. No wonder Outlaw shot the fuck out of him. If he’d still been alive, Digger would’ve wanted to fuck him up, too.
His blood beginning to boil, Digger left her bra on and cleaned the soot from her arms. He’d save wiping off her tits for last. The two, tempting mounds demanded every shred of decency in him to ignore.
Dropping the washcloth into the cooling water, Digger worked on her jeans. Once he’d gotten them completely off, he froze at the sight of her blue, blood soaked panties and all the discoloration on her thighs and lower stomach.
The blood had dried. He hesitated, clearly remembering her saying it wasn’t her time of the month, so what the fuck was this?
Scratching his jaw, he tapped his foot on the floor. His mind searched through what could be wrong with her. If not her time of the month, then Trader must be responsible. If her injuries were internal, it would cause all types of problems. Seeing the extent of her cuts, bruising, and bleeding made unseen trauma a distinct possibility. No wonder she’d fainted. She’d lost a lot of fucking blood.
And hadn’t once complained about pain or discomfort. He admired her strength.
“I’m going to get you to safety, girl,” he promised, guilt hitting him for the first time, knowing he used her to make things easier for him. With her around, he’d be able to keep Little Man and bargain for his own life.
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 241
