When I’ve explained how it all went down, Peg shakes his head and echoes my thoughts. “I can see we’re gonna be taking his patch one way or another before he’s done assing about.” Changing the subject, he points to Wheels. “You babysitting her now? I saw Horse leaving.”
Sighing, knowing out of anyone he’ll understand, I tell him of her apprehension about being here in general, and that the disagreeable exchange with Buster certainly didn’t help her feel at home. I’m in the middle of explaining when Sandy comes up and touches me on the arm, pointing over to Wheels, who seems to be doubled up in pain. But it’s her prosthesis she seems to be rubbing. I crease my forehead in surprise.
“Everything okay, Sands?”
“Yeah, we were getting’ on fine and then her leg started hurting. She wants help to get back to her room so she can find her painkillers,” Sandy tells me, her eyes full of concern and worry for her new friend. Sandy’s a good girl.
I reach into my pocket and take out a box, at the same time beckoning Hank over. “Bottle of water,” I tell him.
Reading the dosage, I push out one small yellow pill into my hand, then taking the bottle, give them both to Sandy. “Here, Horse gave me her stuff to look after, give her that.”
Thanking me, she does. As Sandy returns to the table and gives the medication to Wheels, I don’t fail to notice the look of surprise that’s flicked toward me, and embarrassment on her face as she realises Horse put me in charge of her medication.
Peg is also watching her. “Nasty thing, that.”
“What?” I swing back to him.
“Phantom pains.” As it’s obvious I don’t understand him, he continues, “People think it’s all in the head when a missing limb starts hurting. But it’s not, you know? It’s nerves and the like sending the wrong signals. Very real and painful. But there're ways to help.” Then his eyes narrow, not much gets past our sergeant-at-arms. “Why have you got her pills?”
As he’s one of the men it would be good to have in the know, I fill him in on Horse’s concerns.
He looks down into his beer, deep in thought for a moment, and then draining his drink leaves the empty glass on the bar and purposefully strides over to where the girls are sitting. “Skat!” He waves his hands at Sandy and Carmen. They throw him identical surprised looks, but he just stands there, arms folded, waiting to be obeyed. With huffs, they pick up their glasses and move away. Wheels puts her hands on her wheels, preparing to go too.
“Not you.” Another terse instruction. Wheels looks up at me. I nod, hopefully comfortingly. Peg is not the gentlest looking man, or with the most polite manners. Standing my height, with shortly shorn hair and a long thick beard, I know how menacing he can appear. A good trait in a sergeant-at-arms.
He stares at Wheels for a second, as if taking her in. I’m expecting he’ll talk to her about her pains, but no, he takes an entirely different tack. “My name’s Peg, Wheels. Know why they call me that?”
She gazes back at him, then looks down, shaking her head in confusion. “No,” she answers softly.
“Well,” he begins, and then again surprises me, “Blade, our enforcer, well, let’s just say a knife’s his weapon of choice. And Buster likes to use his fists. Me, I’m a little more imaginative than that. You see, when I like to get information from someone, or just want to see them die rather painfully, I stake them out with pegs and let the sun do its work. Works like a charm.”
“For fuck’s sake, Peg!” I round on him, seeing Wheels has gone white as a fucking sheet for the second time today. My fists curl at my sides, and I’m going to hit him if he upsets her any more. Way to make her feel at home here, Peg!
Suddenly, Peg’s hand thumps down on the table, and he leans forward, ominously getting right in her face. “Why the fuck do you think they call me Peg, little girl?”
She shakes her head, her eyes widening as she goes from believing his story to doubting him in a second.
“Why d’you fuckin’ think?” Without giving her a chance to reply, he lifts his leg onto the table and pulls up his jeans revealing what I already know is underneath—though most of the time forget it’s even there—a titanium prosthesis leading into his motorcycle boot.
I’ve seen her eyes open wide before, but now they seem to take up half her face. She gawks at the artificial leg, her hand appears to reach out by itself to touch it, and then she turns her gaze to him. “But… But how?” I realise as he does, she’s not asking his history when she adds, “You ride a motorcycle?” It’s half statement, half question as her gaze flits from his artificial leg to his face.
“That I do,” he tells her. “Lost my leg in Afghanistan, a land mine. The other was pretty badly damaged too.”
“What, how…” She’s trying to stammer out a question and at last finds what she wants to ask. “How did you…”
“Get to walk again?” he pre-empts what she’s trying to say. “Sheer fuckin’ determination.” He puts his leg down again. “Meet me back here at six. And no fuckin’ excuses.”
Chapter Seven
Sophie…
No excuses? Just who does this man think he’s talking to? My eyes follow him as he turns abruptly and walks out of the room, and I know my mouth has dropped open. I glance at Wraith, who’s looking as bemused as me. What the fuck was that all about?
There’s tension behind my eyes, and my head starts pounding as my body shakes. Not only have I been transported to what seems to be a different universe, in one day I’ve been told there’s quite possibly a killer after me, and I've also been insulted by one of the club members. Now their sergeant-at-arms has shouted at me, and all on the top of jet lag. It’s too much.
“Wraith, I want to go back to my room, please. I need some time alone.” I’m fighting back tears, annoyed at my weakness. In truth, I want to go home to my own familiar surroundings in England, bury my head in the sand, and forget all this is happening to me.
“Hey.” Wraith crouches down in front of me. “I think Peg’s trying to help you.”
“He’s a bully. If that’s his way of helping, I think I’ll pass!” I retort, but my hearts not in it. “Just let me have some downtime, will you?” I wish Horse was here. Not that I know him that well either, but he’s been the one constant over the past few days.
Wraith’s hands touch mine and the day gets even worse when I feel his warmth on my fingers. My body’s reacting to him, and if I wasn't on the verge of crying before, I would be now. I look up at him, his brow creased in concern, dark brown eyes staring into mine as if trying to read what’s hidden in the depths there. He’s a strikingly attractive man—he could have any woman he wanted. He might be the first since the accident to arouse feelings inside of me, but he’d never reciprocate them in a million years. Like everyone else, he’s just feeling sorry for me. For a second, the idea of him looking at my disgusting stump fills me with horror. I couldn’t stand to see the inevitable revulsion on his face.
Briefly, he squeezes my hand, regards me intently, and then gives a quick nod as he comes to a decision. “Let’s get you back then.”
I want to be out of this clubhouse, away from the bikers that unnerve me, so I make no protest as he takes charge, pushing my wheelchair. It doesn’t take long before we reach the suite where I’m staying, and after one last concerned look, Wraith leaves me alone.
In my room, I transfer myself to the bed and lie back, my arm over my eyes, fighting to keep back the tears which have threatened all day. What have I done to deserve all this? All I did was give Zoe the money that should have enabled her to get away. If I’d known how Ethan would retaliate, would I have still gone ahead and helped her? I’d like to say yes, but a selfish part of me is screaming that there’s no way in hell, and I admit to wishing she’d never come to my door that day. Then I’d still have my leg and wouldn’t be in this position. Why do bad things always happen to me? When will the world decide I’ve suffered enough?
Gradually my jumbled thoughts slow. The jet
lag and the grueling events of the day have taken their toll, and I drift asleep. I’m awakened abruptly by a loud banging on the door.
“Who is it?” My voice shakes and my hands grow clammy. What if Buster’s come calling? Although I said I was okay about Horse leaving, I wasn’t really. God, I wish I didn’t feel so helpless and alone.
But then comes a familiar voice, “It’s just me, Wraith. It’s five-thirty, and Peg wants you to meet him in half-an-hour.”
Remembering how the burly man had yelled at me, that’s the last thing I want to do. “I don’t want to go,” I call out, sounding as petulant as I feel.
“Can I come in?”
I heave a heavy sigh. “Yes, okay.”
The door opens, and Wraith enters. He comes over and stares down at me, his face is set, his lips pursed. “I think you do, sweetheart. You’d have to be a braver fucker than I to ignore an instruction from our sergeant-at-arms. Come on, let’s get you up and sorted.”
Shit. It doesn’t look like I’m going to get out of this. Why does everyone think they can just push me around? “I don’t need help,” I reply tersely, pulling myself to a sitting position to demonstrate the point. Pausing just for a moment for my equilibrium to orientate as I move from horizontal to vertical, I reach for my wheelchair and shift across. “Just give me a minute to use the bathroom and I’ll be with you.” I don’t want to go. Half of me wants to protest, and half of me is scared not to see what Peg wants with me. I don’t know the rules here and without Horse, I’m at the mercy of these intimidating men.
And that’s why just before six o’clock I’m back in the bar area of the clubhouse waiting for the man who’d been so abrupt and scary earlier. My hands twist in my lap, and I chew on my lip as I wonder what on earth he could want with me? To try and take my mind off unanswerable questions of what Peg’s got planned, I glance around the room. There are a number of bikers around, some I recognise, some I haven’t met yet, as well as a few girls already scantily clad. I notice the latter seem particularly interested in me, and not in a good way, unlike the old ladies I was introduced to earlier who’d made me feel so welcome. I begin to get suspicious about their role in the club, but if they think I’m looking to get between them and their men, well, they’ll soon realise unless it’s someone who ‘ain’t so particular’ as Buster, I’ll be no threat.
On the dot of six, Peg strides into the room. Had I not seen his prosthesis with my own eyes, I’d never have known he was wearing one. He walks so confidently and surely as he heads straight to me, throwing a chin lift to Wraith before addressing me.
“Good, you’re here. You wouldn’t have wanted me to come and get you. First rule, darlin’, don’t cross me and we’ll get along just fine.”
His opening words don’t offer much comfort, and I regret coming out of my room.
“You’re scaring her, Peg.” Wraith points out the obvious.
For an answer, he just nods, and his lips curl up into a not very attractive smile. It does nothing to calm my fear, and it only worsens when he walks behind the chair and starts pushing me. When Wraith takes his place alongside, Peg pauses.
“Leave her with me, Wraith.”
Wraith frowns. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
Peg stares him down. “It wasn’t a request.”
I find my voice. “I’d like him…”
Now Peg’s eyes flash. “You’ve had it easy up to now, princess. Now you’re gonna do things my way. Wraith stays here.”
“I promised Horse—”
“I’m not going to fuckin’ hurt her, man.”
The two men stare at each other, and to my disappointment, it’s Wraith who backs down. Then I’m left alone with this daunting man as he wheels me away to God knows where.
Wondering where the hell he’s taking me, and for what reason, I’m surprised when he takes me out to the back of the club, wheels me over to a picnic bench and parks me beside it. He sits himself down, his bum on the table, feet on the seat. Putting his elbows on his knees, he rests his chin on his hands and stares at me for a moment.
“You had phantom pains, earlier,” he starts, “they can be a bitch. Anyone told you how to deal with them?”
It wasn’t what I expected him to say. His tone isn’t sympathetic, just matter-of-fact. Lifting and lowering my shoulders, I tell him, “My physio suggested some things, but—”
“But,” he takes over without letting me finish, “you don’t want to think about the part of you that’s missing, do you? You spend your days wishing it hadn’t happened, and fuck, I can relate to that, princess. But it did, and now you’ve got to learn to live with it. Or without it more’s the case.”
Christ, what’s up with me and the waterworks today? Tears prick at my eyes. “You don’t understand.”
“Like fuck I don’t.” He raises his voice. “I gotta show you my fuckin’ leg again?”
I shake my head, letting him know there’s no need for him to do that.
Reaching over, he places his fingers under my chin and raises my face until I’m looking at him. “I’m gonna tell you how this is gonna go. You’re going to do everything I say, got it, princess?”
He frightens me, so I don’t dare disagree.
“Right. It’s happened, babe, you’ve lost your leg.”
“Part of it,” I correct him. “From below the knee.”
“Sounds much the same as me.” He nods. “You’ve got to move on and deal. Instead of ignoring it, try to imagine it, crunch your toes together. Go on, do it now.”
“I haven’t got any toes,” I whisper.
“Imagine them,” he instructs.
I’m worried what will happen if I disappoint him, so I concentrate and try to do exactly what he says. My facial muscles tense with the effort.
“Good girl.”
For some reason his approval warms me.
“If it’s easier, do the same with the other leg. That’s it, good. Now raise and lower both legs and scrunch those toes together.”
I do what he says.
“Good. Now it helps some people. The problem is, your brain can’t accept you haven’t got a physical limb there, so it can help if you fool it into thinking it’s still there. It can help with the pain, princess. Keep doing that a few times during the day, every day, and maybe it will help. It does for me.”
“Okay, thank you.” I start to feel grateful that someone who knows precisely what I’m going through is taking their time to help. I’m sure he’s got better things to be doing. “People don’t understand how much something that’s not there can hurt.”
“Exactly!” His face creases into the first real smile I’ve seen from him. “I know how fuckin’ hard it is to come back from something like this. But I’m telling you now, you can get up out of that chair and walk again.”
I start shaking my head to tell him he’s wrong, it’s too hard, but again he’s there before me.
“Your prosthesis is hurting you, you can’t balance, and your other leg is too weak to support you. Yeah, I’ve been there too. And that’s why I’m gonna help you.”
He jumps down off the table—jumps! Without even a wobble, and grabbing the handles of my chair, starts pushing me again. I let him do so in silence as I digest how he understands exactly how I feel. Sure, I’d met other amputees at the hospital, but I’d steered clear of them. Peg’s right, I’ve been avoiding accepting what’s happening, preferring to wallow in misery rather than dealing with it. Perhaps it’s time to make the switch?
Taking me around to the back of the club, he opens a door and pushes me through then flicks on some lights. My eyes open wide—it’s not what I expected at all. “A gym?” There are all sorts of equipment in this large room, and a boxing ring in the middle. At the moment we have the place to ourselves.
“Yeah, Drummer likes his men to keep fit.” He points to the area in the centre. “We have sparring matches once a month.”
“You spar?”
He humph
s. “Of course I do. I might not be as nimble as some of the others, but I can hold my own.” Then he’s moving me again, over to some equipment at the side of the room, a set of parallel bars, and it’s then I know what he’s got planned. It’s a similar setup to the one at my physio’s. I’d seen it once, the only time I’d attended a session.
“Right, now let’s get you to your feet.”
My physio would have encouraged me to support myself and use my arms to get myself onto the equipment, not so with Peg. His broad arms reach down and he manhandles me out of the chair, holding me until my hands grasp the bars. When he’s sure I’ve got my balance, he lets go.
My knuckles turn white as I try to take all my weight on my arms, afraid to rely on my legs to hold me up. “I can’t do this,” I rasp out.
“Yes, you can. And you will. Relax and get your legs under you.”
He’s moved the wheelchair out of the way. My arms are shaking with the effort to hold myself up. He steps away, a statement that he’ll be no help at all.
Gingerly I put weight on my weakened leg.
He’s noticed. “Good. Now balance on the prosthesis.”
With some difficulty, I do that too.
His next instruction is to walk to the end of the bars. One glance at his set features shows me he’ll take no sympathy on me, and the only way to get out of here is to do what he says. Slowly, very slowly, I shuffle along until I reach the end. When I get there, I look up with a smile of achievement.
He comes across and his hand touches my shoulder. “I’m going to work you hard, princess. It will take time to build up your strength and balance, but one day you’ll be walking again, and you can lose your fuckin’ handle. You want that, Wheels?”
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