by Lane Hart
“I would let you if I –” Jade starts to say before her radio crackles and then a man’s voice is giving codes so fast I can’t even begin to translate them. She squeezes the button and says, “Ten-four, over,” while turning around to open her car door.
“What was all that?” I ask. “Cynthia?”
“They found them,” she replies over her shoulder. “He’s dead. She’s…”
“What?” I snap as I climb on my bike and start backing it up, not giving a shit about the helmet. “She’s what? Where are they?”
“The Seaside Motel just south in Topsoil!” she yells right before I crank the engine and take off, pushing the throttle down as hard as it will go. I break every traffic law known to man to get to Topsoil.
When I pull up at the motel as fast as humanly possible, there’s caution tape across the entrance, so I quickly park my bike and duck under it, heading toward the area where all the local policemen and feds are gathered around.
“Where is she?” I bark at them, causing all eyes to turn to me.
“Who the hell are you? This is a crime scene. You can’t be over here,” one of the guys says. I march right up to him and grab either side of his collar, hearing no less than ten guns being cocked.
“Where. Is. She?” I grit out between clenched teeth.
“Stand down, all of you!” I hear a stern female voice command. “Especially you, Reece. I’m the Carteret County Sheriff,” I hear Jade inform the gathered officers, just before she lays a hand on my arm. “I’m here to escort this man to the victim. Where was she taken?”
“Hospital. Carteret General in Morehead City,” one of the officers replies.
Thank fuck, she’s still alive.
“Her condition?” Jade asks.
“Critical,” he says, making my heart feel like it’s crumbling into a million pieces.
Cynthia’s the only bright and wonderful thing in my life, and right now she’s fighting for hers because I wasn’t able to protect her.
How could she ever forgive me if she does pull through?
I know I won’t ever be able to forgive myself for letting her down.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Cynthia
“Miss Smith? Can you hear me?” a woman’s voice asks me in the darkness. I want to look at her or tell her yes, but I can’t seem to make my mouth or eyelids move. “We’re prepping you for emergency surgery, and we’re going to take good care of you.”
Surgery?
I want to ask what kind of surgery, but then I’m sucked deeper into the black emptiness, which is fine with me because nothing hurts down here. I think I could just sleep for days and days…
…
“Cynthia, I’m so damn sorry.”
“Reece?” I try to say his name but still nothing comes out.
Finally, my eyes cooperate, and I see his scowl in front of me for the first time in what seems like forever.
“Holy shit, you’re awake,” he says in surprise. “How are you feeling, sunshine? I didn’t know…I didn’t know if I would ever see those beautiful eyes open again.”
When he sniffles, I realize he’s been crying.
“I’m ‘kay,” I say, finally hearing the words this time. “Thirsty.”
“Shit, here, sweetheart,” he says, putting what feels like a plastic straw to my lips. I drink deeply, letting the liquid coat my throat and dry lips and tongue.
“Thank you,” I say when I stop, the words clearer now. “Vicky?” I ask, holding my breath while waiting to hear if she’s alive.
“She’s okay. They gave her blood, and she’s doing great. Wyatt wheeled her in here to see you a few minutes ago.”
“Good,” I say.
“She feels awful and said she was sorry for telling him.”
“Kirk?” I ask.
“He’s dead.”
“Even better,” I mutter, trying to form my lips into a smile.
“Don’t you want to know about you?” Reece asks.
“I’m alive…all that matters,” I tell him.
“The surgeons had to fix your nose and jaw, remove a ruptured kidney. So, it’s a damn good thing that you have two,” Reece says. “Everything else…broken cheek bone and ribs, fractured hip, more bruises than I can count, the doctors say will heal on their own. But…”
“But what?” I ask when he pauses.
“There’s some bleeding in your brain they want to keep an eye on for a few days to make sure it stops. If not, they may have to do surgery to drain it.”
“Okay,” I say, swallowing around the knot in my throat at the thought of brain surgery.
“There’s a chance it won’t come to that, so don’t worry,” Reece says.
“I’m not,” I assure him.
He looks over to something beside the bed and says, “Your accelerating pulse says otherwise.”
“Oh, good! Our patient’s awake,” a woman with a booming voice says when she appears behind Reece.
“She just woke up,” he turns to tell her and then walks around to the other side of the bed to get out of her way. He covers my hand and adds, “She’s coherent, asking about Vicky and all. I told her about her surgeries and the hematoma concern.”
Shining a flashlight into my eyes to temporarily blind me, the woman I’m assuming is my doctor says, “Well, it’s great that you’re recalling recent events, but how about older memories. Can you recall anything from when you were younger?”
“My grandmother,” I say as soon as her face appears in my mind. “Her cooking was…delicious. She had a tea pot she loved…with shamrocks.”
“Those are good details,” the doctor responds. “Do you know where you are? What month it is?”
“Hospital in Morehead City?” I guess since it’s the closest one around on the coast.
“That’s right,” she agrees.
“It’s…March?” I ask.
“That’s right,” the doctor responds with a smile. “You’re doing great for being less than twelve hours out of surgery. How is the pain?”
“I hurt. All over,” I reply and hear Reece muttering a curse.
“I’ll up the dose on your pain medicine,” she says. Turning to Reece, she asks him, “Would you mind stepping outside for a few minutes while I give her an exam?”
“He can stay,” I say when he starts to move away from the bed.
“Well, there are a few more questions that I need to ask you that require more privacy,” the doctor explains.
“It’s fine. Ask.”
“Okay,” she says, looking from Reece and then to me again. “What I need to know is if you were…sexually assaulted.”
“Oh,” I say, finally understanding why she wanted privacy while I try to recall if I was or not. Everything is foggy, most likely because my mind is trying to block all of the painful memories.
“We’ve tested you for STDs and will start the antibiotics while we wait for the results,” she says. “And I know that it’s not an easy topic to discuss, but your chart says that your last period was three weeks ago. It’s my recommendation that if you need a Plan B pill to prevent an unwanted pregnancy you should do so today and not take any chances. Time is of the essence. So, do you want me to order you the pill?”
She’s right, this is not something I want to discuss in front of Reece, but he’s here and she needs an answer. I don’t think Reece has taken a breath since she first asked.
“Yes,” I finally answer.
I hear a choked sound that’s full of pain coming from Reece before he moves further away from the bed.
“It’s all my fault,” he mutters. “I should’ve known he was out. I should’ve been there. How can you ever forgive me?”
“Reece,” I start because he’s headed to the door, shoulders slumped, weighed down by guilt that he has no business trying to carry. “Reece, wait!” I call out as loud as I can, wanting to explain but it’s too late.
He’s gone.
…
Reece
Seeing Cynthia’s beautiful face and body so broken and bloody nearly killed me. But she was alive, and I told myself she would heal. She’s strong. She’ll come through this even better than before.
And then the bomb dropped, one I wasn’t prepared to face. How could she possibly recover from that type of violence?
It was the final nail in the coffin.
I let her down and now she’s in an immense amount of pain because I wasn’t there when she needed me.
Years ago, I let down my wife by not being there for her and it nearly killed me.
Now, that guilt is nothing compared to the heaps I’m drowning in over what that bastard did to Cynthia.
I wish I could bring him back to life, just to kill him over and over again, making him hurt a little more each time.
The elevator is as far as I get before my legs give out and I sink to the floor of the confined space.
How is it possible that we’re here, in the same place where Torin lost Kennedy just a few years ago?
I was so stupid and arrogant back then, hating what happened to her, but blaming it all on Torin not keeping her away from the club and all of his shit.
But he wasn’t the one who watched it happen in real time on the surveillance camera, the car pulling up and firing two shots into his pregnant wife.
No, that was me.
I watched and couldn’t do a damn thing to save Kennedy.
I couldn’t do anything to save my marriage after I came back from the Army.
And I couldn’t keep Cynthia safe from the one man she feared.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Reece
“You look like shit, brother,” Sax says from the doorway of my apartment.
Half of my body is lying on the floor, the other half, my legs, are still on the bed after I fell out of it because I’m so drunk.
I give Sax the middle finger in response from my upside-down position.
“You’re not god, man,” he says when he comes over and picks me up under my arms to put me back in bed. “Jesus…you weigh as much as a Titan, though.”
A grunt serves as my reply.
“Got any bourbon?” I ask.
“No.”
“Then get-ta fuck out!” I slur at him.
“Why the hell are you here and not with Cynthia?” he asks, making bile rise up in my throat at the mention of her name. “She came home from the hospital today.”
“I know,” I grumble. That’s why I finally allowed myself to get shitfaced drunk. Each night, after the room is dark and she’s fallen asleep, I would sneak in and watch her sleep to make sure she was okay. I haven’t been able to face her during the daylight hours. If I have to hear anything else about what that bastard did to her, I don’t think I could live with myself. It’s a thin line as it is. Today, after Vicky and Wyatt drove her home because she renewed her fucking lease, I came back to the clubhouse and have been guzzling up all the bourbon in the clubhouse. Sorry, Turtle. You’re all out at the bar tonight!
“You drank all the bourbon?” Sax asks.
“Hopefully. I’ll be pissed if I miss…missed any,” I hiccup.
“What are you doing? Seriously?” he asks. “You shouldn’t be here. She needs you, and you’re worthless right now.”
“No. I was worthless when she really needed me.” Grabbing the front of Sax’s cut, I ask him, “Do you know what he did to her?”
“No,” he says with a frown. “But what’s done is done.”
“Fuck that,” I huff, letting him go. “It should have been me protecting her. A fucking cop had to save her. You know how bad shit has to be for a cop to save you?”
“They got to her in time. Look, it can’t be undone, but she won’t forgive you for not being around now.”
“I wasn’t around for my wife either,” I tell him. “Look how that worked out.”
“You were married?” he asks in surprise. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. If you care about Cynthia, then stay close to her so nothing can hurt her again. Put a damn ring on her finger already and make her yours, you grumpy bastard!”
“Can’t,” I say. “She’s already married.”
“To who?” he asks.
“Dead fucker. Well, she used to be married. Now she’s a widowerer…widower,” I try to say but it doesn’t sound right. “She never filed for divorce…” I explain, and then have an instant epiphany. The dark clouds part and the sun comes through like a lightbulb going off in my foggy head. “Unless she did? Look that shit up!” I yell at Sax. “Right fucking now!”
“Jesus. Okay, hold on,” he huffs before he goes over to one of the desktop computers. “What’s her full name?”
“Cynthia Annabelle Collins,” I tell him, providing her full legal name.
“Nope, there’s no divorce decree,” he says. “But she did file for divorce…”
“Oh shit! When?” I ask.
“January of this year.”
“Did she use a Emerald Isle address?” I ask.
“Yes,” Sax answers. “It’s the highway one so, her shop?”
“Goddammit!” I exclaim to the ceiling. “Why the fuck would she do that?” I yell.
“Man, I don’t know. You would have to ask her. As soon as you’re sober enough, I can drive you over.”
“Stupid. So stupid! That’s how he found her! Why didn’t she just wait?” I shout. “Why didn’t she tell me? Why didn’t I look it up?” It’s embarrassing to hear the sobs with the last few words.
“So, it was her fault he found her, not yours?” Sax asks.
“Shut the fuck up! Don’t blame that shit on her!” I scream at him. “But why? God, sunshine, why?”
I fall back on the bed, content to rot away right here, even though I wish I could ask her. I roll around in my own pity until I jackknife into a sitting position, gasping, thanks to the ice-cold water dripping off of my head and body.
“You little son of a bitch!” I say to the man standing over me, holding the empty bucket once I recover.
“Good, you’re sobering right up,” Sax mutters with a grin.
“You’re gonna pay for that,” I warn him.
“Maybe so. But why don’t you change clothes so you can go get your answers.”
“Just wait,” I huff at him. “What comes around, goes around.”
“Is that what they say?” he chuckles. “Sounds like something crabs do. Or gonorrhea.”
“What?” I ask in confusion.
“Nothing. Get dressed,” he grumbles. “I think I like you better when you’re a quiet pain in the ass rather than a talky drunk.”
“I can drink you over the table.”
“Yeah, well, I could drink you under it, old man,” he tells me. “Now let’s go, brother. You’ve wasted enough time as it is.”
…
Cynthia
I’d be lying if I said my heart didn’t nearly jump out of my chest every time there’s a knock on the door, and not in the good way.
“I’ll get it,” Sasha says as she jumps up from the sofa to answer it.
“Thanks,” I tell her, appreciative of her and Chase, Abe and Mercy all coming over to my apartment when I got home. The guys are putting my bed back together and the women have been trying to keep me occupied with small talk since my little television is boxed up and I wouldn’t let them dig through all of them to find it.
“Where is she?”
My chest tightens and a gasp leaves my lips at hearing Reece’s voice.
“She may not want to see you, you prick. Where have you been? You should’ve been at the hospital with flowers and balloons and shit when they wheeled her out!”
“It’s fine,” I tell Sasha, because I want to see him, and it hurts too much to turn my head in their direction. “Let him in.”
A second later, he’s towering in front of me in his usual jeans, black tee and his cut, of course. The only thing different is the several days of growth on his face, his red, bloodshot eyes, and the way
he seems to be swaying in front of me.
Then the strong whiff of bourbon hits me.
“Are you drunk? Did you drive over here drunk?” I ask.
“No, I drove him,” Sax says from someplace I can’t see.
“Good,” I mutter.
Eyebrows slanted and scowling, Reece shouts, “Why the hell would you do something so stupid as to send him mail with your business address on it?”
“Really? That’s what you’re here for?” I ask, sighing in disappointment.
“Answer me!” he yells just as Abe and Chase come up and put hands on him that he shakes off…and then stumbles around before straightening again.
“I did it for you, you jackass!” I roar back at him, happy to have an emotion other than pity, or sadness, or pain to deal with at the moment. Anger works just fine.
“Me?” Reece huffs.
“Maybe I was hoping that one day you would want to be with me for the long haul, not just a few nights! Guess I was wrong since you up and disappeared, leaving me in a hospital bed where I couldn’t chase after you! But you know what? I’m tired of chasing you. Either you care about me or you don’t. Either you’re going to stick around or you’re not. Was it stupid to file for divorce? Yeah, now I see that it was. How was I supposed to know they would let him out almost two years early!”
“We should all probably give them a few minutes,” Sax says when he walks up and gestures for Abe and Chase to follow him.
“Do you want us to stay?” Sasha asks with her hands on her hips.
“I appreciate all you’ve done, but you don’t have to hang around. I’ll be fine,” I tell her.
“In that case, we’ll wait outside the door. You can yell if, or when, he pisses you off enough that you want the guys to remove him,” Sasha responds before her and Mercy head out with the men.
“I’m sorry,” Reece says softly with his head hanging after the door shuts behind them. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. And I want to be with you every damn second, but I hate myself for letting him get to you.”