Even though I had no fluid to offer my eyes to cry, I think my expression said everything that was needed. Her brothers had just tried to kill her, and her mother was as bad as mine. There was an unnerving truth to be told. I was all Lacey had.
Model-Man grumbled, “Fuck,” as he suspiciously peered about. “She your woman, kid?”
It was barely a nod, but I delivered. Lacey’s life was counting on me.
“Jesus H. Christ.” Model-Man spoke as if instantly understanding my panic. His words and tone told me I’d made a huge mistake by insisting Lacey run. This man understood the love for a woman.
With barely enough air in my lungs to sustain my body, I whispered, “Don’t… let… them find… her.”
“They still here? The fuckers,” he gestured to my body, “who messed you up?”
“N-Not sure—” I stopped when noticing movement to my right.
From behind Eye-Patch, a beast of a man was rushing to Model-Man’s back. He was standing with a pointed gun as if searching for an immediate threat. “Nothing,” he said. “I think they belonged to those taillights when we arrived.”
They’re gone… Relief sailed through my body.
I guess my eyes started closing because Eye-Patch became persistent, smacking my face again. “No-can-do, kid. There’s no such thing as ten lives.”
The taller man was examining the ground. “There’s a little trail of blood. That girl is hurt.”
Eye-Patch nodded to the man to my left. “There’s blood behind me.” More quietly, he told him, “I think we’re losin’ him, brother. Need to make a decision.”
If they were willing to help, there was no time to waste on me. They had to choose to help Lace. So, with the last bit of energy I had, my left hand searched for the one who was asked to make the decision. Finding his hand, I tried to squeeze but simply didn’t have the strength. My jaw shook as I forced out, “Her.” I needed him to know the sad truth. “Choose her. I-I’m all… she-e g-got and,” I tried to swallow the gathering blood, “almost… d-dead, anyway.”
Peering about again, grumbling, something caught his eye. It was on the trunk of the tree at my head. After he studied it for a few seconds, he then stared at me.
A meaningful silence lingered between us.
Then there was a stale chuckle to my right. Eye-Patch mumbled, “Ya big ol’ soft bastard,” as he peered up to talk to the other man. “Vice, have them bring that truck over here. And get me a couple of Prospects.”
“On it.” Vice slid a gun in the back of his jeans and took off running.
Still holding my hand, Model-Man smirked down at me. “It’s your lucky day, Nine Lives. Apparently, ten lives do exist.” He regarded his friend. “Think I’m making a mistake, VP?”
VP?
Eye-Patch replied, “Nah. The kid has heart. I think he’s only alive for whoever we need to go’n find.”
They’re going to help me. They’re going to help my Pretty Girl.
They were scary as fuck, but I already trusted them. Maybe, when you’re dying, you’re close enough to God to have the gift of recognizing good people. That had me sighing—which turned into a coughing fit, blood spurting.
“Ah, fuck.” VP quickly scooped my body up off the ground and warned me, “Don’t stop worrying, Nine Lives. If you do, that means you die.” With barely any effort, he carried me to a truck that was racing toward us. “Remember, she’s alone in the woods. She’s in danger. Worry.”
My jaw tightened as I thought of how many things could go wrong before they found her. “That’s it, kid. Get mad. Think about the fuckers who hurt your girl and hold on to that anger. It may keep you alive.”
His theory made perfect sense. So, that’s what I did. I fought. I stayed mad. I thought of the brothers and what they did to Lacey’s unconscious body. I thought about how much I wanted revenge. I didn’t go to sleep until I was in some closed-for-the-day veterinarian office.
On a steel operating table meant for animals, I watched an older doctor who was presently knocking me out with something in my IV. He had cut away all my bloodied clothes and maneuvered bright lights to hang over me. There was clinical shit everywhere. Metal trays with tools I was confident were soon going to be used on me. Against some walls were see-through cabinets that held cotton balls and medicine bottles that sure weren’t meant for humans.
Model-Man stood by the table, staring at me as if he didn’t believe I would make it. “I have Prospects searching for her. We’ll find her. Live so you can see her again.”
Model-Man had a lot to learn about me. As I felt the drugs take a hold of me, I thought to myself, I will. For her, I’ll do anything.
As if no time had passed, I suddenly heard voices. One I hadn’t heard before said, “My club owes you one for taking in my friends like this. We won’t forget it.” Then his voice changed as he spoke to someone else. “Brother, we have an issue across town, but I’m leaving two boys in the waiting room for you.”
Model-Man replied, “I’ll call with an update. Thanks for everything.”
My eyes weren’t even attempting to open. They couldn’t. They were heavy as could be. I think that is why I fell right back to sleep for a little bit.
The next time I woke, from the hallway, I heard the doctor quietly say, “As you saw, he’s a fighter. Plus, every single stab wound was right where it needed to be to do the least amount of damage. Which is a good thing. My office is only closed for the weekend. After that, he has to go.”
VP sounded perturbed, “Has to go? That kid was spitting up blood, for God’s sake.”
“Hey, I’m breaking laws here. I’d prefer my staff to not be involved,” Doc replied. “As far as his spitting up blood, that has an easy, yet disturbing, explanation. He was most likely choking on all the blood draining down his throat. He has a gaping hole in his mouth where a right molar used to be—like less than twenty-four hours ago. With all the bruising on his face, I’m guessing a punch—or twenty—reopened the horrific wound.”
“Wound?” asked Model-Man.
“Yeah, no orthodontist did that gruesome removal. And no man could withstand that kind of pain of removing it himself. My guess? Last night was not this kid’s first run with gory torture. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Model-Man sounded annoyed. “You’re speaking English, aren’t ya?”
The doctor exhaled a shaky breath. “Sorry, I get all twisted when neglected animals are brought to my office. Such a young man? Totally fucking with me. I take home abused strays. How do I explain showing up with an abused young man to my wife?”
“Wait. Abused?” asked VP.
“Pfft! Did you not see the perfectly shaped scar on his right hand, right arm, the right side of his neck?”
“We were a little busy saving his life. Sorry for the miss,” smarted off VP.
Doc exhaled again. “Shit. Sorry. It’s just… This kid has been tortured for years. Many old scars. All on the right side of his body. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
My right. Her left…
“And he’s severely underweight. This kid needs a good home and lots of hot meals.”
As I fell back to sleep, I heard Model-Man grumble, “Jesus H. Christ.”
VP sneered, “No wonder the kid didn’t weigh shit when I carried him.”
When my mom left money on the counter so I could buy myself food, the brothers made it clear I wasn’t to touch it. I only took tiny amounts so that they wouldn’t notice. Sometimes, I didn’t even spend that stolen money on myself. Vanilla milkshakes for my Pretty Girl were what I bought. Due to her mother also being so poor, she had never had one before me.
I kissed her that day she had her first.
She loves my sugar kisses.
Her kisses made my starving so worth it.
Her sweet vanilla breath blew across my face as she whispered, “I love you, Tate.” I was lying underneath her naked body, loving her weight and soft skin on top of me.
Smili
ng, I held up my right hand. “Hold my heart, Pretty Girl.”
Knowing exactly what to do, she raised her left palm.
Our matching scars touched as our fingers folded around our joined hands.
“Find me,” she whispered.
On a pillow, my head tilted in question. “But, you’re right here—”
Voices yanked me from the dream. The doctor was in the hallway talking again. “My wife is asking questions, so I have to go home for a little while, but after he wakes, he needs to get up and move around…”
After an explanation of why my moving was so important, Model-Man said, “Thanks, Doc. Not a problem. And I’ll have him out of here before your office opens Monday morning. Just let me know what I owe ya.”
“Have you heard about what kind of shape the girl is in?”
Oh God!
“Lace!” My eyes flew open and I actually tried to sit up, feeling instant pain shooting through my whole body.
“Not happening, Nine Lives,” warned VP as he rose from a chair.
The bright white walls glowed and blurred as my head spun. There was a collection of smaller white sheets, strategically placed to cover my body. I guess Doc wasn’t used to treating humans and only had animal-sized blankets.
Putting pressure against my shoulders to keep me down, VP complained, “Damn, you’re a stubborn bastard. No wonder Prez is thinkin’ about vouchin’ for ya.”
Prez? Vouching for what?
VP and Prez were vague nicknames, but I didn’t need to be a straight-A student on the Dean’s List to figure out what they stood for: Vice President and President. The patched leather vests, boots, and blue jeans made it clear they were part of a motorcycle gang.
A pair of those heavy biker boots entered the room. “Kid, chill the fuck out. I ain’t payin’ to patch you up twice.” Still feeling a little woozy, and hearing ‘Prez’ loud and clear, I let my head sink back onto the table. I must have groaned because he laughed. “Yeah, you currently resemble swiss cheese.”
They had to understand… “L-Lace.”
VP smirked. “Apparently, you two young ‘ins make quite the pair. She’s survived, too.”
My eyes darted to his blue one. “W-Where—”
He held up a heavily ringed, tattoo-covered hand. “We don’t have her, but she’s safe.”
Conflicted, my heart pounded. One part of me was relieved. The other part didn’t know how to trust and felt Lace, not by my side, was in danger.
VP added, “Before the Prospects could find her, she made it through the woods, literally, and stumbled onto the property of a hospital called the Serenity this morning.”
I blinked in shock. What luck!
VP shook his head. “Not that kind of hospital, kid. It’s an institute for the crazy kind of peeps. Some doc there took her to a medical hospital, though. We’re staying low but have eyes on her. She’s getting sewn up as we speak.”
Suddenly, my right hand was grabbed and flipped over. Prez examined the oval scar on my palm. “Who did this to you?” I was surprised to hear a hint of anger in his tone. I wasn’t sure who it was aimed at.
My own voice was hoarse, but I replied, “I don’t know you.” There was no way I was going to just reveal a secret. For safety reasons, I kept it from everyone except for Lace.
Prez lifted a brow. “Don’t ‘cha think my actions have shown more integrity than the assholes who have bloodied up your girlfriend?”
“Wife,” I almost choked out, upset I hadn’t protected her better. All I could do now was try harder, hence not giving up much info.
His head jerked back. “Wife? How the hell is that possible when you couldn’t be older than fifteen.”
“I’m seventeen.”
“And her?”
“Seventeen, but—” To prove how serious I was, I did my best to growl, “age doesn’t matter when you love someone.”
He smarted off, “It does in the eyes of the law, dumbass.”
Refusing to cave on this, I stared at the ceiling. “No law was involved.”
Prez’s head bobbed slightly as he admitted, “Not that I can say I live by laws, or have the right to argue with ya, but when did this ‘wedding’ take place for two minors?”
“Why is it so important?”
He snipped, “I got my reasons. Now talk. The truth.”
From the very beginning, Prez had a way of making me speak. He was formidable. It was hard to deny him. So, I locked my jaw, not wanting anyone to shit on a vow that I would be taking to the grave and afterlife. “Last night.” Knowing it might possibly sound ridiculous and not like the dream wedding a young woman may have wanted, I quietly—and shamefully—added, “In the trunk of the car.”
VP grabbed his leathered chest, stumbling backward. “Fuck. Me. Runnin’. He married her while locked in a fucking trunk?”
Instantly, Prez’s annoyance dissipated. “Kid, you marry your girl knowing your end was comin’?”
My nostrils flared, but that was my only answer. Last night, Lace chose me. That’s all that mattered. And that she said I do.
“Hey,” Prez lightly backhanded the side of my thigh. “I ain’t disrespectin’. Just trying to understand what makes you tick. What I got going,” he acknowledged the veterinarian operating room I was in, “ain’t exactly legal and for sure ain’t gonna be cheap. Feel me?”
Suddenly feeling like a spoiled brat—nothing I knew a lick about—I blew out air. “Sorry. I’m, uh, not used to having, ummm—”
“Friends?”
My throat tightened. I’d never had one before. “Uh… No. I’m not, uh, used to those.”
He eyed my palm again. “Yeah, no shocker there.”
I made a fist to cover the scar that was now personal to Lace and me. “I don’t regret it. She has one, too.” We had both suffered at the hand of our brothers, but now saw these scars as a sacred bond between us only.
Prez baited, “You don’t regret someone hurtin’ your wife?”
He knew nothing of my past. Nor hers. I glared at him. “Every. Fucking. Day.”
Expecting the intensity of our words to heighten, I was shocked when both men started laughing, both talking about how I was “gonna fit in just fine”.
I had no idea where I was “gonna fit in” and what they were talking about, but I knew none of it was ever going to happen until Lace was back in my arms. So, I bit out, “I don’t see what’s so funny.”
My words didn’t affect VP in the slightest. He actually laughed harder, “Got you a little Bulldog there, Prez,” and pulled a vibrating cellphone from his front jean pocket.
Studying his leather vest, I read, Vice President. Steel Stallions. 1%er Original Chapter.
I looked to Prez to further study his.
Observing me, he smiled, pointing to a strip of material above his heart that read, 1%er. Original Chapter. The other side read, President. Steel Stallions.
VP held up his cell for Prez to see, and announced, “Captain.”
Prez reached over me and took the phone. Pulling it to his ear, he answered, “Hey… That sounds perfect… Nah… Yeah, may be bringin’ home a pound pup. A,” he smiled at me, “Bulldog.” His eyes squinted. “Possibly with a litter.” He lifted his chin at me. “Your girl pregnant?”
All the unspeakable violence of the night prior flashed in my mind. Heartbroken that it ever happened, I answered, “No.” Not wanting to explain I didn’t even think it was possible, my jaw locked. “They wore condoms.”
Prez’s smile didn’t fade away. It vanished. Then his eyes filled with cold anger I wasn’t familiar with. Not even with sadistic brothers that hated me.
Staring at me, Prez spoke into the phone. “Just two pound pups.” He pulled the cell from his ear. Over me again, he handed it back to VP. “Here, get the needed details.” Then to me, he said, “Captain got us a rental until you’re ready to travel.”
VP pulled the phone to his ear. “Hey, it’s me…”
I stuttered, “T-Tr
avel?” I panicked. “I can’t—”
Prez pointed at me with an angry finger. “Listen up, Pup. I ain’t much for repeating myself. Got it?”
“But—”
“Did I not just say two rescues were accompanying me home?”
“Home?”
“Yeah. What about it?”
“Well, nothing, but—”
“Do I sound like I’m in need of one more but from you?”
VP chuckled into the phone, responding to the caller’s question, “What’s happening?”
He winked at me. “Some potty training.” Then left the room.
I grumbled under my breath, “I’m not a damn dog.”
“Well,” replied Prez‚ even though I wasn’t asking his opinion, “you sure the hell ain’t no wolf yet.”
His meaning was completely lost on me at the time but would one day be clarified.
“So, how about it?” asked Prez.
“How about what?”
He rolled his eyes. “Do you want a new home or what?”
My ears went hot as my heart raced. I think all my blood was rushing to my brain, trying to convince it to make me reply yes, but I was too stunned to answer. I just laid there, stupefied and blinking.
Since I didn’t answer, Prez added, “I’m offering you, and your girl, a place with a family that would never let harm come to you again.”
Another ping to the heart stung me. Did my mom allow it? Did she know?
Prez carried on with, “We might be on the rough side, but all in my crew have hearts of gold. I swear it. A roof, a bed, a job. A place where you can keep her safe.”
My lips parted. He was speaking of a dream I never dared to dream.
With eyes welling, I gave the only reply I could manage; a curt nod.
I didn’t have the courage to speak out loud. I was afraid if I said the wrong thing, the dream would end.
CHAPTER THREE
Taking Steps
There were very few periods of time in my life where I had true peace in my heart. When my dad was alive, there was an abundance. He was tall and as playful as the wavy dirty blond hair he passed on to me. Even before I could walk, we played in the pool. We played in the yard. We played at the kitchen table. Once I was a toddler, I had his full attention. He adored everything about me.
Hostile Saint (Steel Stallions MC Book 1) Page 3