Get Away

by Jade Chandler

  And I had to stop thinking of her that way—she wasn’t mine, never had been and never would be.

  I stopped at a strip mall in the regular part of Vegas. Tourist Vegas and real people Vegas were two different worlds, and I liked the real Vegas better than the glitz. I picked out a handful of outfits and grabbed a few underthings although I’d prefer she not wear any. After getting her clothes, I stopped to pick up girl shit—deodorant, toothbrush, shampoo, razors and a couple kinds of pain reliever. She’d be sore for days and we might not be able to pick up her pain meds. I spotted a cosmetics store and decided to chance it.

  “Can I help you?” A overly made-up woman behind the counter gave me a what-the-fuck look.

  That was exactly how I felt. “My girl needs new makeup and I wanted to surprise her with it.”

  “Surprise her by bringing her in—I can’t show you makeup for a woman who isn’t here.” She crossed her arms.

  Another guy walked up then. “What’s the problem?” He looked from me to the out-of-sorts bitch giving me attitude.

  “My girl was in a car wreck and we lost our luggage, her makeup, everything really. She gets out of the hospital tomorrow and I know she’d feel better having it.” I lied without a bit of guilt.

  The woman harrumphed. “Wreck with your fist,” she mumbled.

  I stepped to the counter and the guy was there in an instant.

  “Lady, I don’t lay hands on women and be glad ’cause you’re pushing me right now, making me wish you were a man.”

  The guy frowned at the woman before focusing on me. “I might be able to help you.” He motioned for me to follow him.

  I gave the now frightened woman another scowl and followed him down an aisle.

  “Tell me the color of her skin.” He looked at me and glanced away. “When she isn’t beaten up, um, not that you beat her up or anything.”

  I knew what they both thought, and it pissed me off more. “Peaches and cream coloring with just a hint of a tan. She’s got a layer of blue and green bruises and stitches over most of that now.”

  He nodded. “Is she a dash it on and go or more the perfectionist type.”

  “Perfectionist.” I had no doubt she had to have everything perfect. “Make sure there’s skin crap in there too—the full package.”

  He nodded and walked down another aisle. “What does she do?”

  “Dances in a Vegas show.”

  He stopped and turned to me. “You might want to bring her in or get her brands.”

  “What do other dance professionals use?”

  “If they don’t use the stuff supplied by the show?”

  I didn’t know they even did that, but Queenie seemed like the do-it-herself type. “Exactly.”

  “MAC. And you can buy it here, but it ain’t cheap.” He walked over to a display. “Let me see a picture of her.”

  Well fuck, that was something I hadn’t expected. I sent a quick text to Avery and she responded fast, but the guy gave me a strange look. I suppose most boyfriends had pictures of their girl on their phone—my barely held together lie fell apart.

  I clicked the message and Glory’s perfect face stared back at me. Damn, she was hot and that smile was so light and bright. She looked so much happier here than when I’d met her in Vegas, but I swore she’d smile like this for me.

  “Here you go.” I showed him the photo and he took my damn phone.

  He picked up a small plastic bag and started with the moisturizers, plucking items and dropping them in the bag. In just a few minutes he was done and I trailed after him to the cash register. A thousand dollars later, I’d left the store with Glory’s makeup, feeling good for the first time since I’d seen her in the hospital. I needed to pamper her, make her smile and forget, even for a minute, the terror of the past few days. I wanted to give her at least one bright moment.

  And that was beyond fucked-up—I didn’t do women, didn’t do emotion, definitely didn’t lay down a grand for a smile. Except I just had. I vowed I would not fall for her.

  She was my responsibility, but I wouldn’t fool her or myself into thinking we could be something more. I’d never even thought about wanting more with another woman, but I did with Glory. And that was the worst kind of stupid.

  Purchases complete, I drove back to the hospital to do guard duty. I texted Thorn and got an ETA for the next day. He and Eagle would be here by afternoon, and with any luck I’d have Glory back to my place by then.

  I walked in to find her talking with an older guy.

  “Why are you here?”

  “Someone’s gotta look after you, Queenie.”

  “Is this the young man you said would be coming by tomorrow?” He stood and moved toward me. “I’m Jason, a therapist here.” He held out a hand to shake.

  I shook it.

  “Yeah, he will be taking me home once I’m discharged,” Queenie called from the bed.

  “So glad to meet you. I was just going over the psychological healing process with Glory and you need to hear it too. It is important to understand the distress she may experience in stressful situations over the next couple months.”

  She glared at me. “He can just read the handout.” She thrust it to me.

  “Sit, sit, we’re about halfway done.” He smiled at my queen. “We won’t start over, but he can hear what we have left to cover.”

  Glory sighed and I pulled up a chair and took the papers now lying on her belly again.

  The doctor started talking, but I focused on the paper.

  It was titled Psychological Symptoms of Trauma.

  I’d seen these kind of handouts in the military all too frequently. I checked to see if the usual culprits were there. Disoriented, withdrawn, anxious, depressed, panic attacks, emotional outbursts, fear, denial, anger, rage, grief, increased sexual appetite, increased recklessness, decreased sexual appetite, and the list went on and on.

  “There are so many ways trauma can manifest. Be most aware of sudden changes in mood, erratic decisions, fear, panic attacks or recklessness. They can be most common and create havoc in life.” Jason turned to me. “Any questions?”

  “Nah, I was an MP in the military. We were trained on trauma.”

  Jason looked to me. “Yes indeed.” Then back to Glory. “Remember however you feel, it’s okay. Your mind has to heal as well as your body.” He stood up and nodded to each of us. “I’m sure Glory feels safer with you here.” He walked out, leaving me with too much information and not sure what to do to help her.

  “She does not.” Glory glared at me. “What did you bring?”

  “Look and see.” I retrieved the bags and dropped them on the bed.

  She rooted through them and came out with a new iPhone.

  “Yay.”

  “It’s a new number.”

  “Good. I don’t need anyone following me from here.”

  She looked in the second bag. “Son of a bitch. You got me makeup?”

  I glanced up to see a grin that reached her eyes.

  “Who the hell picked this out? ’Cause I know it wasn’t you.” She laid out each tube of makeup beside her. “This beats the coffee.”

  “Some guy looked at your picture and picked it out.”

  “You have a pic of me? Stalker-like.” She laughed.

  “Settle down, Queen. You need to sleep and so do I.”

  “You’re staying here?” she squeaked.

  “All night.”

  A different nurse came in and gave her meds and she conked out soon after, but sleep wasn’t easy for me.

  * * *

  The next morning I left her asleep to go grab breakfast and coffee to bring back.

  As I walked toward her room, I wondered if she’d still be sleeping. I opened the door to find her taking wobbling steps across her room.

  “Yo
u’ll fall.” I dropped the breakfast bag and rushed to her with coffee in hand.

  She gave an irritated snort. “And then I get back up.” But she leaned into me and gave me a lopsided smile. “That smells like heaven.” She nodded her chin to the coffee cups I carried in a cardboard contraption.

  “Let’s get you back to the bed before you drink that stuff. And I brought food.”

  With small, unsteady steps, I helped her to the bed.

  “Now give it.” She held out a hand in demand.

  We both had a thing for java.

  She took her first sip and sighed. “God, this is real coffee, finally. The stuff in here, ugh.”

  She stayed quiet while she downed the coffee and scarfed down her breakfast sandwich.

  The door opened and a small woman in a white coat walked in. She had a sophisticated beauty that made me look twice.

  “Hey, doc. You gonna let me out of here?” Glory greeted the doctor.

  “You could use more recovery time.” She scrolled through her tablet. “Your pain level seems to be decreasing. How do you feel?”

  “Better.” Glory glanced at me and back to the doctor. “The thing is that the guys who put me in here are watching me, so I might need to slip away.”

  “Call the police.”

  “Um, they aren’t the solution.”

  “I can’t recommend early release, but if you insist, I will print out your prescriptions.” The doctor reached in her coat pocket. “I was giving you this today anyway.” She placed two tubes of cream on the bedside table. “This is my special formula—it will help with the bruising and especially the scar.”

  “Right, it’s best to be prepared in case I have to check out early. You can’t stop me, right?”

  “No, I can’t keep you here, but you’ll regress, slow the healing, if you try to do too much.” She frowned at me. “You were seriously injured and it will be weeks before you’re approaching normal physical conditions. And sexual relations should wait—”

  “That’s not an—” Glory tried to interrupt.

  “At least three weeks, maybe four.” The doctor stared at me as she spoke.

  I wasn’t going anywhere near her again—that was more trouble than I could handle. If I went back, then I’d want more and more. No. It was best to get her back home and this situation resolved. I had nothing inside me to give another. Hell, I’d let down everyone who ever relied on me.

  Chapter 9: Glory

  When Dr. Sheridan said “sexual relations,” I blew my cool. “That’s not an—” I tried to interrupt as the doctor glared at Delta.

  “At least three weeks, maybe four.” The doctor spoke anyway.

  I needed to disappear into a hole—right now. “Thanks for that.” I growled up at the doctor who still stared at Delta. “I don’t think you need to worry about that. I am capable of running my own sex life.”

  She turned to me and laughed. Actually laughed. If it didn’t hurt to move, I’d strangle the woman. “Right. I will bring back in your prescriptions in case I’m not here when you need to leave.” Her dark eyes bore right into me. “Although I urge you not to. I want you to fully recover.”

  “I understand.” But I valued my life too much to lie around here waiting for DeLuca to surface.

  She sighed and left. Finally.

  I gave Delta my frostiest look. If I didn’t confront the sex thing now, I might never be able to do it. “One night. And I’m still not interested in more.”

  He cocked an eyebrow in that smart-ass way of his. “An amazing night.”

  That was true enough, but I wasn’t admitting it to him.

  “But I totally agree—one night.”

  A pang of something made my chest ache. Was I disappointed? Hurt? That was so damn ridiculous. I didn’t want him, yet a big part of me apparently wanted him to want me.

  Stop this, I ordered myself. Be grateful for small blessings.

  “Great.” I sounded put out. Dammit, I had meant to sound easy and unconcerned. That failed. “Now go away. I need privacy to get ready.” I motioned him toward the door.

  He just cocked that irritating eyebrow again and gave a single shake of his head. “Not a chance, Queenie.”

  There was that name again. I was getting to the bottom of this. “Why do you insist on calling me that?”

  He bent forward as he laughed.

  I huffed as he just kept laughing. “Stop that.”

  He wiped the corner of his eye and leaned back in his chair. “You are totally superior from the way you hold your head to the way you expect others to do whatever you say. A fucking queen.”

  That didn’t sound so great. I wasn’t like that, was I?

  Fuck him. And his nickname. “I know what I like and what I don’t—I’m not apologizing for that.”

  “Exactly.” He tilted his head to the side. “It’s what I like best about you. You get what you want.”

  A warmth spread through me at his praise, and that pissed me off even more. I didn’t want his opinion to matter. I couldn’t let it matter to me because I’d never be enough for him. Never be first for a man like him. He was married to that damn club, and I didn’t come second, ever.

  Maybe that made me a queen, and if it did, then fine, I deserved to be the most important person in someone’s life. When I gave away my heart, I would be first, last and only for him and him for me.

  I was done talking with him. I took a fortifying breath and swung my legs over the side of the bed. Dizziness flooded me and I closed my eyes, trying to fight the disorienting swirl. I pushed myself to my feet and let the pain wash over me. Embraced every throb and stab until it was a part of me. It did no use to fight against it—instead I used it to fuel me and make me stronger. I would survive this.

  I opened my eyes and focused on my feet, one step. Pain exploded in my center and shot down over my sex and then struck each leg. My knees tried to buckle but Delta stepped up and steadied me. I wanted to castrate whoever had bruised me so bad.

  “Together.” He stepped forward and I followed.

  Each step created a new strike of pain that stole my breath, but I pushed on. They would not defeat me. The bathroom loomed so far away. In reality it was less than twenty feet away. Eventually we made it. Once I rested on the closed toilet seat, he loped back to the bed, gathered my bags and was back in a flash. Would I ever move that easy again?

  He set the two bags in the sink. “Should I stay?” He gave me that wicked smirk that made me think of how he’d made me come during our one night together.

  I pointed to the door. “Out.”

  “Fine.” He strolled out and closed the door behind him.

  I wanted to play in the makeup but I knew better than to start there. Priorities. And clothing was a higher priority than makeup. I reached for the clothes and decided to skip underwear for now. My poor bruised flesh needed any break I could give it.

  I slipped on the yoga pants. Each inch was torture as my body protested the tight fit of the knit against my skin. I suddenly wished for a dress that fit like the hospital gown. But I kept working them up my legs. I used the sink to pull myself up and knew there was nothing to help this last part so I jerked up the pants.

  “Son of a bitch!” I hissed and held tight to the porcelain sink. My body shook and I breathed in and out, trying to settle myself. My private parts throbbed and sent pain up my torso. I clenched my teeth and rode out wave after wave, waiting for it to lessen.

  Eventually I pried my eyes open and looked at the shirt and bra that waited for me. No way I’d get that sports bra on today, so I left it and picked up the shirt. Even this hell would eventually end, and oddly, the thought comforted me.

  After the clothing ordeal, I didn’t have much energy for makeup. I did the skin care regimen and added a bit of lip gloss and mascara. I didn’t have the tenacity t
o try and cover up all these bruises today—maybe tomorrow or the next day.

  When I opened the door, a wheelchair sat there with flip-flops on the floor in front of it.

  “Ready?”

  I wanted to protest the wheelchair, but it was necessary. I bit back my angry retort.

  Damn it and this weakness. With a sigh, I settled down in the chair.

  “The doc brought those prescriptions, and I’ll get the rest of your stuff. Then we’re out of here.” He gave me a two finger salute and went around the chair to the bathroom. We were out of the room in minutes, and he wheeled me to an SUV. He stashed my meager belongings in the back. Before I could even consider how to get in the ride, he picked me up and placed me on the passenger seat.

  With narrowed eyes, I frowned at him. “You’re too high-handed.”

  He shut the door and jogged to the driver side. He sped out of the lot into the hot Vegas night.

  “Stay away from the strip,” I warned.

  “Figured that one out already.” He arched a brow. “We need to talk about what happened that night.”

  “It’s a long story.” My voice quavered.

  He lay his hand atop mine. “We’ll start early in the day and go through step by step.”

  “Okay.” My voice was stronger now. “I want those bastards to pay.”

  “I give you my word they will pay—pay dearly.”

  I stared at the hard line of his jaw and believed him. The bastards would pay—Delta would make sure it happened. Maybe I should be the passive kind of girl who wished her attackers peace, but that was bullshit. I believed in an eye for an eye. Or ten punches for one. There was no excuse for someone stronger to ever hurt a weaker person—those assholes hurt me for the fun of it. No, cowards like that deserved anything Delta handed out.

  We drove through the tourist part of town with flashing signs and offers for every type of fun imaginable and things I thought sounded horrible—like the three wedding chapels we passed. Vegas was tacky and the tourists loved it. We passed the invisible barrier into the real Vegas where the workers who fueled Vegas lived. Delta ran fingers through his golden-blond hair and I understood why it was always messy—he made it that way. Then he pierced me with stormy eyes.