I sat so close to the good-looking biker that I was almost melding myself to him. I needed to feel him, just to be certain that I hadn’t made it all up and this wasn’t some cruel trick of my mind. It was highly possible I was hallucinating and actually still sat sobbing on the woodshed floor.
“Are you real?” I asked, putting into words the thoughts that were racing around my head, acting like a complete idiot.
“Huh?” Yes. He thought I was pure idiot and the look on his face said so.
“Nothing. Where are we going? What if my brother comes to let me out?”
I saw the blond-haired guy, Wave, looking at both Gears and me in the review mirror. Gears blew out a breath of air and asked, “Is that likely? I mean, does this happen often?”
“What, him locking me in the woodshed? Me sleeping in the woodshed? Or him having a change of heart and coming to let me out?”
I felt his body tense. “Right now, I’m one step away from taking a tire iron to his head, so don’t tell me he’s done this before.” This time I tensed. “Fuck,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean that. I don’t… I mean, I won’t do that. I’m just very fucking mad about what you’ve been through. You don’t need to be frightened of me.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him that I’d polish his fingerprints off the tire iron if it meant saving me from that hell, but instead I answered the safest question. “It’s unlikely he’ll come to let me out.”
He seemed relieved. “Then we have enough time to get you clean, fed, your wounds tended to and some decent rest.”
“What’s your name?” I asked, expecting something heroic. In my eyes, he was one step away from swinging a big silver sword, and instead of riding a motorcycle he should have had a white stead and be called Sir or Knight of the Realm.
“Gears, told you that at the shed,” he stated matter of fact-ish as he rubbed his palms along my shoulders and then down my arms, trying to stop me from shivering.
“Funny name.”
“It’s Griffin. Griffin Geary. Club name is Gears.”
Maybe he was a real knight of the realm after all. When you had a name like Griffin you were destined to do heroic things, weren’t you?
I don’t know where I expected to go, but driving through an estate complete with manicured lawns, fountains and garden statues was not it. Weren’t bikers supposed to be grubby, unclean people who lived rough lives on the edge of society?
“You need to go and prep Ma,” he told Wave.
“This’ll be fun.” He smirked and climbed out of the truck before disappearing up a driveway.
“Where are we?”
“My house—well, my mom’s house.”
I froze at that admission. I hadn’t expected to be taken anywhere civilization would see me. Before I could voice my concerns, the back door of the truck flew open and stood there was what could only be described as Mrs. Cleaver.
“Oh my! You poor thing, you must be freezing. Let’s get you inside and run you a hot tub.”
All the things that had queued up in the free mental capacity I still had left were gone immediately at the mention of soaking my sore body in hot water.
“Then food. I have some soup in the freezer—good belly warming vegetable soup. I’ll get that sorted.” I watched as she scowled across at her son, and my mind scrambled back to thoughts of, ‘I shouldn’t be here’, randomly mixed in with ‘leave, immediately’. “Can she walk? Or do I need to call a doctor? You and that damn biker gang,” she huffed.
“How many times, Ma? We’re not a gang. I’m a mechanic. I work in an autoshop and we happen to ride bikes and have a club name.” Gears climbed out and reached back to pick me up. “And what do you mean, ‘that damn biker gang’? We didn’t do this to her.”
Wave chuckled and followed us back towards the house. When we stepped over the threshold, the first thing that hit me was the central heating, and I felt my skin expand in an effort to extract as much of it as possible.
“I’m gonna leave you to it. Got some calls to make.” Wave looked at Gears and something passed between them. Then, like all that was forgotten, he wandered to Gears’ mom and threw his arms around her. “You’ve always been my favorite biker babe, Mrs. G.” I watched as her eyes flickered down to his bare torso and she blushed.
“Oh, shush you. I know your game. Some people have some explaining to do.”
At that point Gears kicked in. “As great as it is watching you flirt with my ma, we’ve got shit to do.”
“Yes.” She looked shy, before pretending to be irritated that he’d got to her. “Griffin, go and put…”
“Gigi,” he filled in.
“Gigi in the tub and I’ll get the food ready.”
It was Gears’ turn to tense up. “Fuck. Ma—”
“Oh, your mouth! Around a young lady and all.”
“You need to take her for a soak. I’ll sort the food.”
Recognition flashed across her face and now it was my turn to be embarrassed. I was still cradled in his arms, and even though we looked like we’d known each other forever, like she’d assumed, we hadn’t. It was just over a day.
“Okay, pop her in the bathroom and I’ll come sort stuff out. Are you okay with me helping you, Gigi?” Every muscle fiber in my body, every spark of twitching nerve endings and consciousness told me to say no. I didn’t want anyone to see anything of me undressed, but how could I say no? They’d brought me somewhere safe. Sensing my struggle, she came over to me and her son. “Please don’t feel sad or embarrassed. You’re a friend of my son’s in a tight spot and I just want to help. Will you let me?”
This woman, who looked like she’d never been near a thrift store, soup kitchen or homeless person in her life held my eyes. There was nothing to be afraid of here and it pained me to admit it, but I did need help. Even with that admission, it took all my effort to nod and agree.
The three of us trekked off to the bathroom where Gears sat me on the unit by the sink as his mom started to fill the tub.
“You can leave her to me now, son. Food,” she commanded. I watched as he left and shut the door, leaving me with a woman who had opened her door to me less than ten minutes ago. “This is awkward. I want to put some bubbly stuff in the water, but… but if you have any open cuts or wounds it might sting, a lot.”
“No. nothing open,” I told her meekly and watched as she dumped a healthy lug of stuff under the running faucet, and a heavenly floral smell tickled my nose.
“Do you need me to help you?”
“No. Thank you.” It was a mumble at best.
“Right. You have a good old soak. Drop your clothes outside the door and I’ll get them sorted. You might have to borrow something of mine for the night. Wave tells me you’re in a spot and need a bed for the night.”
I looked away in shame.
“I’ll knock before I come back in with fresh towels and clothes, but if I stay with you much longer then the soup will probably be inedible. How you can get heating soup wrong I’ll never know, but that boy of mine will manage it.”
With that, she was gone.
I did as she requested—took my clothes off and snuck them through the smallest gap I could in the door.
As I turned to get in the bath, I was presented with me.
The me I’d ignored yesterday.
Me, in an enormous bathroom mirror, in all my bruised-up glory.
What must that woman have been thinking? I looked like I’d been in a car accident, if car accidents could punch and kick you until you wanted to die.
The bruises I could look past. I’d been doing that for years. It was the precise finger marks on my throat and collar bone that struck me, so heavy handed and exact there was every chance he’d left a finger print embedded in me. I could see my ribs because I’d cut back on food, often feeling too anxious to eat. I didn’t look seventeen, nearly eighteen; I looked years younger. My auburn hair made my pale, sallow skin look waxy.
Unable to face mysel
f anymore, I turned off the faucet and felt around for the side of the tub, which was buried under a mountain of bubbles. I dipped a toe in, followed by a leg, and then because the water temperature was just right, I lowered myself straight down and felt immediately like I’d been transported to a luxury spa resort somewhere.
I felt my eyes drift closed and attempted to clear my mind, but the noise of hushed voices coming from what I assumed was the kitchen stopped that happening completely.
A little while later, as I was pressing my finger and thumb pads together marveling at how they’d shriveled up, a knock came at the door. “Gigi, I’m just going to quickly come in with some fresh clothes, a warm towel, some OJ and a couple of advil.”
“Okay.”
A lot of the bubbles had gone, but I did my best to hide my girlie parts as she sped into the room. She put the orange juice and pills on the side where I could reach them and then held up a night gown. “Now, I know this looks awful, but it’s cotton, long and will be soft against your skin. I’ve put your stuff through a quick wash and dry cycle, but they’re not ready yet and you can’t sleep in them anyway. My robe is on the back of the door. Please use that, too.”
“Thank you.” I looked away embarrassed again.
This shame, this embarrassment was all down to my brother. Just another example of how mental torture is as bad, if not sometimes worse than the physical injuries we display.
Gears’ mom, hopped about before diving right in with her question. “Will you let me wash your hair? I’m worried about you getting soap suds in your eyes. One of them looks sore enough already.”
I hesitated.
“I promise to be gentle, but I think it will make you feel a little better.”
Once again, this woman was impossible to refuse, so I nodded.
She grabbed some shampoo, conditioner and a jug from a cupboard under the basin and perched on the side of the tub. “Just relax and tilt your head back.” I did as she asked and pulled my knees to my chest. “You have such beautiful hair, Gigi. Such a striking color and so thick.”
It was all going okay at first. She got the shampoo in and was massaging my scalp when I felt her fingers hit a small bald patch. Just lately my hair had been falling out. I started to sniffle and bite my lips, willing the tears at someone else discovering this to stay inside.
“Please don’t cry. It’s not as bad as you think. Most people suffer with this at one point or another. Can I be honest with you?”
“Yes.”
“It’s usually a combination of factors. Poor diet, lack of sleep and stress. Nothing to worry about, and fixable.”
It was everything to worry about.
I wasn’t in a position to fix it, and I didn’t see myself eliminating any of those reasons in the very near future. If things stayed the way they were, I’d be bald within a few months.
I felt the conditioner go on and her rinse it out, then watched as she reached for a comb. I remembered my mother doing something similar to me when I was younger, but she’d never openly shown me that much care and attention since I was about ten. When Edward began to misbehave, her motherly duties, those most kids took for granted, dwindled. As soon as I was old enough to tug a brush through my wild hair, I did so. From a young age I was intent on becoming compliant; Momma and Daddy had enough on their hands with him.
“Ma,” I heard Gears shout, “soup’s up.”
“Food time. Here.” She rushed to the side and grabbed a towel. I sat for a few more minutes as she gently rubbed my hair to remove as much moisture as possible and then grabbed the big bath towel. She held it open, indicating I could stand up and she’d wrap me in it, like I was a toddler.
Without thinking, I stood up and even with the odd bubbles left floating across my skin, I didn’t miss the look of pain in her eyes when she saw my body. It flashed so quickly I could have missed it if she hadn’t forced a fake smile onto her face to try to cover it up.
With my arms covering my breasts, I stepped quickly into the towel and felt her arms wrap around me. The towel was the softest thing I’d ever felt on my skin, but not as soft as her arms. I was expecting her to let me go straight away, but she didn’t. She stood and held me, resting her chin on my wet head, gently rubbing her hands up and down my cocooned body.
“Gigi, love, I don’t know what brought you to my door, but it’s always open for you. You ever need anything, even if it’s just a hot soak, some quiet or a bowl of what I’m sure will now be overcooked soup, you come here. Okay?” Her voice broke at the end and I knew she was a kind, emotional soul.
Her sincerity floored me. If she hadn’t been holding me up in the towel, I would probably have been a weeping mess on the floor. “Okay.” I could barely get the word out.
Pulling herself together, she placed a swift kiss on my head and released me. “Don’t be long. The soup might be defrosted once and overcooked twice, but that boy will hoover it all up if we don’t go out there and eat it.”
Wiping a tear from under her eye, she left me.
Gears
My phone was red hot.
I’d had a text from Wave telling me he’d let JP know what we’d done.
I’d then had a text from JP telling me we’d talk in the morning.
It was safe to say I was probably going to get my ass reamed for this stunt.
But I didn’t care.
She was safe for tonight and I wasn’t going out of my mind with worry.
It turned out to be a strange night, but none of it felt uncomfortable, not for me anyway. Something had happened in the bathroom when Mom went to make sure Gigi was okay, and when she returned her face was all tight and strained. Whatever it was she’d discovered, I knew it was going to be something I wouldn’t like. Mom knew it, too, which was why she tried to hide it. Mom had been a bit flighty since her world had exploded and my dad fucked her over, but tonight she had her A game on. She was amazing.
Gigi ate the soup like it was the best cordon bleu meal she’d ever had. Sad really that I took such things for granted. Mom was an excellent cook, always had been and always would be, but it was just soup and warm bread rolls. It was also one of those times I was glad my dad had fucked off with his fancy piece. Where Mom’s heart bled for anyone who needed help and support, right down to the homeless guy outside Walmart and stray puppies, Dad’s did not. It would have been awkward for Gigi and she would have felt anything but comfortable sitting round the table in my mom’s dressing gown. She was quiet and eating, I was quiet and reflective, but mom was just plain focused and chatty. She had something to occupy her brain, and even if it was something hurtful and ugly, she was in her element. For once, all felt right in the Geary household.
The spare room Gigi slept in was next to mine, but I let Mom get her settled in. I was avoiding the awkwardness of any kind of goodnight and I figured that giving her a wide berth would make her feel safe sleeping under a strange roof. The problem was I was so fixed on that wide berth that I was sure I bordered on being rude. When I said goodnight, a look passed between us that could have meant anything from, ‘Thanks for saving me,’ to ‘Should I leave?’ It was likely because I’d left most of the conversation up to Mom because I was still just too fucking angry with it all.
As soon as she was settled, Mom hustled back into the kitchen and got right in my face. “Where the hell did that girl get those bruises?”
“Jesus! Fuck! Lower your voice.”
Mom made a show of a forced whisper. “That girl is in a state. Her body is like a battered old rag doll.”
Her confirmation of what I suspected did nothing to calm my swell of anger. I’d avoided thinking about it since I’d pulled her from the woodshed. I’d barely got a grip on anything since I’d watched that asshole lock her in it. “Her brother.”
My poor old mom looked horrified. Once upon a time she’d had a perfect world—husband, house and a sole child to devote her time to and shower with love. That husband left, and she hated the reminder of
that. Her only child was a ‘motorcycle riding, grease monkey,’ something she sucked up so she didn’t lose the other man in her life.
But this. This was a step too far.
In her experience, family did not hurt family, well not physically anyway.
“I don’t know what to do with that.” So, she did the only thing she could do. She pulled out a kitchen chair and sat her ass on it before she hit the ground in shock. I got up and started messing with the dirty pots in the sink. She needed time to get used to what she’d learned and I needed to do something. “Just put them in the dishwasher, Griffin,” she snapped.
“No. I need to keep my hands occupied. I’m not totally convinced I won’t drive back to her house and smash my fists into his face, see how he likes it.”
“I see. Yes. You wash as many pots as you like, although, please don’t break them.”
The silence stretched between us.
“What’s your connection to her?”
“Picked her up in the tow truck yesterday, and wasn’t keen on how her brother was when he came to pick her up. I only went to check she was okay,” I inclined my head in Gigi’s direction, “and that’s what I found.” I thought about hiding it, but was truthful. “He’d got her locked in some fucking shed, Ma.”
Mom got up and came to stand by me. She waited patiently until I was forced to look at her. She reached her hand across and affectionately palmed my cheek. “I’ve never been more proud of you than I am right now,” she whispered.
I couldn’t stop my wet, soapy hands from wrapping around her middle. “I hate that I’m going to have to take her back there in the morning.”
Mom returned my embrace. It wasn’t something we did often, but we both recognized how lucky we were to still have each other. “I know, son, but you need to do the right thing so things don’t get worse for her. And remember, she now has two more friends in her life than she did a few hours ago.”
Maybe that was something I could settle for—being her guardian angel and watching over her. At least until she found the courage to do it for herself.
Gigi: A Black Sentinels MC Novel Page 9
