by Ivy Fox
“Not much of a talker, are you?” she continues, not seeming rattled by my silence or my attempts to ignore her presence.
“That’s alright. I have a boy close to your age that likes to keep to himself, too.” I snort at the blatant lie.
“What?” she asks. There is a bit of humor in her tone, and my eyes unwillingly seek her face for the first time since her interrogation began. If she wants to start this conversation with lies, then my silence is more than warranted. Yet, my mouth runs away with me before I’m able to stop it.
“You don’t look a day over thirty,” I tell her sourly. She places her elbows on the edge of the bed and clasps her hands together, pointing both index fingers my way.
“See, any other woman would take that as a compliment. You’d be wrong, but still a great compliment to hear. Yet, I don’t think that was your intention. I think you wanted to call me a liar just now, but gave me your reasoning instead,” she explains, seeming not too put off with my insult. She leans back in her chair yet again and crosses her legs. One foot bounces up and down, showcasing an impressive eight-inch-heel boot.
“Gabriel is not mine, that is true, but he is one of mine. You’ll understand the difference soon enough,” she says, keeping her eyes fixed on my every expression. She’s still measuring me, trying hard to decipher the person I am, but as I try to do the same with her, that gnawing feeling of wanting her to unravel my own mystery nags at me. I try to shuffle those thoughts away and turn my head to the side where her eyes can’t reach me.
There is a pregnant pause in the air, and then I hear her stool shuffle. Panic starts to set in when I see her shadow move away from the bed and head out the door.
“You’re leaving?” I ask, and the trepidation in my voice is clear to us both.
“I have other patients to see. I’ll be back tomorrow to check on you,” she replies, giving me the same warm look she gave when offering me water.
“I can’t move,” I tell her, hating that I’m showing her my vulnerability, but making it clear I need her just the same.
“Nor should you. Your ribs are still healing, which means that bed is your only friend right now, whether you like it or not.” I bite my inner cheek at her comment, hating how true it really is.
“I’ll tell the boys that you’re awake. They have questions for you, too,” she says, leaning on the doorjamb.
“I don’t think I have many answers,” I tell her too assertively, even if it is the truth.
“Well, whatever you have, give it to them. That is if you want justice on your side,” she replies, and there is a bit of bite to her words that resembles more the outer facets of this woman.
“And you think your boys can give that to me?” I ask bitterly. Her eyes light up at my words, and for a brief second, she looks like she’s proud of me, even though I have done nothing to earn such a sentiment.
“I think justice should be taken in any way it’s given. Be it by our hands or other more competent ones. But I’ll leave it up to you to see which one you choose,” she remarks confidently. “Rest now. Like I said, you need your strength to heal those wounds. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Who’s going to take care of me until then?” I ask a bit too anxiously, hating every ounce of vulnerability I’m showing.
“The same people who have done so until now. My boys,” she deadpans, and with a quick wink, she leaves me in the darkened room of my own making, with more questions than I had before.
I didn’t even get her name.
Great.
Chapter 8
Michael
“The girl is awake,” Aurora exclaims, closing the porch door behind her.
“She say something?” Cam asks, putting his phone down on the table, giving Aurora his full attention. I continue to sharpen my knife, but she’s got the floor for me, too.
“Not much. Don’t think you boys are going to get much out of her for a while, either. She’s still in shock and angry about it, too,” Aurora informs, walking past Cam and me. Gabriel is leaning on his bike waiting for Aurora to jump on, but the little tic of his jaw tells me he’d prefer to stay and see for himself whether the girl is open to dialogue.
“I know you all need answers. Just don’t think she’s ready to give them to you yet,” Aurora adds, getting her helmet from the back of Gabe’s seat.
“She still hurting?” I hear him ask her below his breath. Aurora places a hand on his shoulder and throws one leg over the monster of a bike.
“Both in and out, I’m afraid.”
He throws a look at the dirt beneath him, hiding away his discomfort at my aunt’s honest answer. This stranger of a woman has put Gabe under dark, gloomy skies since her arrival. I know it’s not intentional, and she has no idea how much her presence is hurting my friend, but I can’t help but place some form of culpability at her feet.
Gabe hops on his Harley, latches on to both handles, and gives both Cam and me a nod, before taking off with Aurora at his back. I continue to sharpen my knife in smooth, steady strokes, trying to ignore the heavy gaze my best friend is giving me, accompanied by his full-faced grin.
“We ain’t gonna talk with her?” Cam asks eagerly, tapping his fingers on the porch table.
“Not now,” I retort to his impatient tone, not even looking up to see his displeased expression with my answer. I feel his curiosity getting the better of him, though. Always so quick to get to the matter of things, without giving a second thought to it. Even when circumstances, as delicate as the one we find ourselves in, call for such caution.
“When then?” he huffs out exasperated.
“Let’s give her a day or two to adjust,” I tell him, going back to my knife, trying to distract myself from my own curiosity. He gives the table two taps with his knuckles, trying to grab my attention but I don’t even flinch. Before I know it, he’s already up from his seat.
“Yeah, you stick with that plan, Michael. I think I’m going to talk to her now,” he states, marching toward the front door at lightning speed, slamming the screen door behind me, leaving me out on the porch talking to myself.
“God damn it, Cam,” I yell behind him, trying to shorten the distance between us, but he’s already two steps away from the girl’s room and far enough from me to hold him back.
“What?” he whispers back to me, his brow to his hairline. “I’m bored.” He winks as a way of explanation.
I roll my eyes in defeat because Cam just can’t help himself. He’s been vigilant of the girl, just as much as Gabriel and I have. Gabe has taken the brunt of the work, though, by taking care of her wounds when Aurora is unable to, as well as feeding her and washing her as best he can. I’ve been trying to track down who she is and what happened to her that fateful night in the first place, leaving Cam’s contribution to be focused solely on dealing with her entertainment. Even though the girl has been sleeping most of the time, he’s been reading every book in this house to her, bible included. Just because he got it in his head that maybe she can hear him in her unconscious state. I know he’s bored out of his wits, needing verbal stimulation and now that he knows the girl is awake, he just can’t help himself, thinking this to be his reward for being stuck here, playing house nurse.
“Shit, it’s dark in here,” Cam says. “You asleep, darling?”
She doesn’t reply to his carefree tone, but once he makes his way to the window, threatening to open the curtains, a little groan leaves her lips.
“Please don’t.”
“Well, hallelujah! She speaks,” he howls, showcasing his toothy smile. “You’ve been out for a long time, darling. Kind of touch-and-go for a second there, but damn, am I happy to hear you talking,” Cam exclaims overly excited, taking a seat on the bed next to her as if they are long-lost friends.
She tries to shift her body away from him but hitches in pain the minute she even attempts to move to her side. I grab Cam by the shoulder and lead him away from the bed and to his feet. He looks none too pleased bu
t keeps still for once. I take a good long look at the woman lying before us. At 5’8” she isn’t that small, but she is far too thin, which makes her small in comparison to most of the women that I’m used to being around at the club. Her big brown eyes seem like she wants to swallow the earth in one go as she makes her own inspection of the two of us. Whoever harmed her, might have wanted to break her in two and extinguish the light in her eyes, but they sure as hell didn’t succeed. Not if the hard and meticulous inspection she’s performing on both Cam and me is any indicator. Any other woman would be an utter mess by what she had suffered alone, much less be expected to maintain calm when waking up in a strange house, greeted by two larger than life six-foot-something bikers. Yeah, most women would be clutching on the duvet having a panic attack. Girl in front of us, though, not so much. Instead, she’s taking all of our measurements in and taking stock as she does so. Shit! I was weary that coming into her room like this would intimidate the poor girl, but suddenly I feel as if it’s Cam and me who are in the hot seat.
“I remember you,” she hushes out as if surprised by her statement. I point my index finger to my chest, and she nods.
“Yes, you were here in this room once when I woke up. But you weren’t alone,” she continues and looks over to Cam suspiciously.
“I was with Gabriel at the time. My name is Michael, and this here is Cam,” I reply hurriedly, trying to ease into some sort of formal introduction, even though the rushed greeting felt awkward on my lips. It seems my usual confident self has taken a hiatus to God-knows-where without letting me know, leaving me a blundering caveman. Next thing I know, I’ll be talking in monosyllables—me Tarzan; you Jane. Mentally I’m slapping my forehead when in actuality I shove my hands in my jean pockets to have something to do.
Cam looks over at me, and that damn brow of his is again to his hairline. His hazel eyes slant a bit as if to ask, “What the fuck is your problem?” I shake my head, hoping the feeling of unsettlement goes with it. I have been scrutinized by bigger, badder men than this small thing, so why I find her heavy perusal of Cam and me unsettling, I do not know.
“You hungry?” I ask, now crossing my arms over my chest as if it’s the shield I need to distance me from those wide brown irises that keep staring back at me.
“No,” she retorts, turning her head to the side since it’s probably the only part she can move easily enough. A small sigh escapes her lips, and she turns her head back again to us both, even though one look at her tells me she would rather have us leave her the fuck alone.
“No, thank you,” she states, and it’s as if the added pleasantry is hard for her to stomach.
“You need anything?” Cam asks, looking at the girl as if she’s a present under the Christmas tree he can’t wait to unwrap and play with.
“Some quiet would be nice,” she proclaims stoically.
“Oh darling, don’t be that way. We just want to talk with you, that’s all,” Cam goads, taking a seat yet again on the bed next to her, making himself comfortable. This time, however, she doesn’t move.
“I remember you, too,” she informs me, and I lean in just a tad to hear her more clearly. She has a deep baritone voice that is smooth like red velvet cake and vanilla frosting. Sweet and fucking delicious, but will surely give you a toothache.
“You do, huh?” Cam asks, intrigued, and smiling brightly from ear to ear. She nods his way, taking another long hard look at the sandy-haired biker on her bed.
“I remember trying to sleep, and you interrupting that, too,” she adds sarcastically.
“Next time, I’ll try a lullaby if you don’t like my prose,” he counters, giving her his best flirtatious wink.
“I rather you didn’t,” she replies back. “Or is this your definition of torture that you perform on all your kidnapped victims?”
“The fuck?! Shit darling, we didn’t kidnap you!” Cam quickly states, getting up from the bed as if she had just slapped him.
“No?” she asks, raising a brow, not looking too reassured by Cam’s outrage at such thought.
“Fuck no! You came to us, not the other way around. No fucking way would any Archangel be involved in kidnapping. Shit!” Cam goes on, offended and hurt by her comment. Her eyes shine with his rebuttal, and I see straight away how well she played him just now, getting quick answers with minimal effort on her part. She’s smart, I’ll give her that.
“She knows we didn’t kidnap her, Cam. She’s just messing with you,” I tell him, giving her my most confident smile. Now I feel more like myself. I just needed to see what we’re dealing with. I was positive that I would have a crying, shattered woman the minute she woke up, but apparently, I was very much mistaken. I have a sly, very clever young woman on my hands. All I have to figure out now is if she’s using her wits to protect herself or to injure in any way my club and my brothers. No big, beautiful eyes could get her out of the pickle she’d find herself in if it was the latter scenario.
“Satisfied yet? Or are you not quite finished sizing us up? You’ve been doing it since we came into the room, sweetheart, so if you have questions, just ask,” I tell her, showing how at least one of us is back on his game.
Her lids lift up further and lock with my unimpressed glare. This small creature is testing the waters, unafraid of any shark she might find. A fearless smirk on a broken face says a lot about a person.
“How long have I been here?” she finally asks after what felt like an infernal interval of silence.
“Five days,” I reply, and there isn’t even a trace of surprise on her features.
“You didn’t take me to the hospital. Why?”
“Thought you’d be better taken care of here. My aunt is a doctor at Mercy General, and she’s been round constantly, making sure you have everything you need and are well looked after,” I tell her. I feel Cam beside me, wanting to squirm with the half-truth, but I’m proud of him for not giving her any clues that I’m only giving her part of the reason why she’s here.
“And where is here, exactly?” she asks, and this is the first time a small trace of frailty hints at her words.
“Warren,” I tell her, and see the word doesn’t ring one damned bell in her head.
“Warren, Pennsylvania,” Cam adds, seeing the same thing that I am. She’s trying to mask it, but she has no recollection of either town or state.
“Do you remember anything about that night? How you got here, perhaps?” I question, and I see her stiffening in response. Her full lips thin out in a frown, and it’s only now that I realize, although she hadn’t been warm with us, she hadn’t been upset either—not until now, that is.
“What’s your name, darling?” Cam asks in a genuinely gentle tone.
“It isn’t darling,” she quips back at him, but there is little heat behind it. Her turmoil already clouding her once-cool exterior is showing us that maybe whoever hurt her did more damage than just a few bruised ribs.
“Do you remember what it is?” I ask, putting salt to the open wound clearly stamped on her face. She has no idea where she is, but worse than that, is I don’t think she remembers who she is, either. Her lips are still as thin as two fine lines can be, but I see her chewing away at her inner cheek.
“Do you remember anything?” I question again, but she keeps her walls high, refusing to let anyone near.
“We just want to help you. We won’t be able to if you keep mum, darling,” Cam interjects, and his honest tone grabs her attention.
“Why should I tell you anything at all? For all I know, it could have been you who jumped me and left me for dead out there,” she mumbles to herself.
“I promise you, we didn’t do this to you, but we do want to know who did,” Cam continues.
“You think promises will make me believe you aren’t the ones responsible for me lying broken like this?” she sneers.
“Not promises, darling, but actions. Once we establish who hurt you and why, they won’t ever touch you again. Not after we deal with th
em,” he assures her with his cocky grin.
“I don’t know you, and you don’t know me, so why the hell would you want to help me? And don’t call me darling.” She adds the last part with a bit more spirit.
Cam starts to laugh, happy he got a rise from her, and I see a little bit of a twinkle in her eyes that says he’s growing on her. I take advantage like a lion would of an unsuspecting gazelle.
“Cam didn’t mean anything by the endearment. You’ll soon see that he’s like that with everyone. Now it’s true we don’t know who you are, but it seems to me that you are suffering from the same predicament. One thing I know in my gut, though, is that you’re a survivor. Which means you follow your instincts. Does it tell you that we’re the ones you should be afraid of? That we would be capable of hurting a woman and leaving her out in the cold to die?”
She looks intently at each one of us, stoic to no end, and then shakes her head.
Good—at least we have that.
“Well, then. We should try and establish who assaulted you, and who you are. Do you remember anything from that night? Anything at all? We need you to recollect as much as possible if we are to try and help you figure this mess out.”
“And why do you want to help me?” she asks again, only this time the question is directed at me. She wants to read me, and my explanation, to make sure I’m worthy of her trust.
“For whatever motive, you ended up right at our doorstep. Maybe there is a reason behind it, maybe it’s sheer coincidence. But I for one need to know. So helping you will get me the answers we need.”
“Is that a good enough reason to help someone you don’t know?”
“To me? It’s as good as any. Helped out strangers for less.”
It takes her a few seconds to ponder everything we said, but the next time she opens her mouth, it’s to tell us what she could recall of that night.
