by Cathryn Cade
T's shoulders sagged. "Okay, I get that, but fuck... anybody else got an idea where she could go? Gotta be somewhere Faro can't get to her, somewhere she's outta sight." He looked to Pete, who had a big farmhouse out in the country a few miles from town.
Pete grimaced. "Sorry, bro. We're having the plumbing redone, after that burst pipe last week. We're gonna be bunking at Stick and Sara's for a few nights ourselves until the water's back on."
Rocker spoke up. "Why can't Manda stay here with you, at the clubhouse? Hell, she can move into my room. I'm hardly ever here, now that Billie's livin' with me."
"What?" Bouncer demanded. "Now we're running one of them clubs for bitches?"
"Seems to me I recall your ex-old lady bunked here for a while, back when you were first together," Rocker told him. "You didn't mind that one bit."
"Yeah, 'cause he was getting a blow job whenever he wanted," Cooler said.
Bouncer gave him an ugly look, but Cooler merely smirked. T would've laughed another time but not now, with so much hanging on this decision.
"She won't be no trouble, Bounce," T-Bear promised. "She's a real nice gal, just havin' a tough go of it lately."
"You claimin' her exclusive-like?" Snake asked. "Or can any brother have a shot?"
"We ain't together," T admitted. But his hands bunched into fists on the scarred table top, and tension built in his shoulders. "But any brother who don't treat her with the same respect we give the old ladies... that man will have me to deal with. An' I won't go easy."
"Right, then." Stick tapped the table with his fingertips. "She can stay for a couple of weeks. She's not club pussy, this is for her protection. It goes without saying that we'll each be keeping eyes on our own women, da? This Faro likes hurting women. He knows who T is, knows there are other old ladies around the club. He might take the chance to get back at T, at us through them."
Rocker nodded. "We'll keep eyes on our women. We'll also find him, and shut him down."
"How far we gonna shut him down?" Moke asked.
Stick shrugged. "We'll decide that when the time comes."
"Any of you catch him, I want time with him," T said, flexing his fists. "Want him to know what it feels like to be worked over by someone bigger and stronger."
Rocker nodded slowly. "I'm all for that."
"Hell," Pete said, a dark look in his light eyes. "I'm sure we'd all like a turn."
Bouncer snorted. "Might have to keep your old ladies away from him for his own protection. Bet they'd wrestle to be first in line to get a crack at him."
The brothers were silent for a moment, contemplating this probability. The Flyers' old ladies stuck together, and they were fierce. T and Pete exchanged a look, and Pete raised his brows. "He's right about that."
Snake snickered. "Maybe they could jello-wrestle for a chance at him."
T surprised himself by laughing at this mental picture, and the brothers joined in, breaking the tension that had gripped the room.
"Fuck, it's always somethin' around here, ain't it?" Rocker asked no one in particular.
Bouncer slapped him on the back, grinning. "That's why we're Flyers, brother. Livin' high style."
Rocker lifted his hand and the two smacked palms.
But then Rocker leaned forward. "T, I got another question for you. You said Faro called you. How'd he get your phone number? Can't see you sharing that with every slick you play poker with."
This was a helluva good point. T shook his head. "I got nothin'."
"Didn't your phone just go missing last weekend?" Bouncer ribbed him. "Along with a wad of cash?"
"Yeah, yeah," T grumbled. "Like everybody ain't heard that story."
Rocker held up a hand. "Wait. Bounce's point is good. What was the bitch's name, Krissie, or somethin'?"
"Krystelle," T said impatiently. "And yeah, she shook me down. It happens. Club pussy ain't exactly church ladies."
"I think Rock means, maybe Krystelle had a reason to steal your shitty phone," Pete said. "Maybe somebody, like Faro, paid her to grab it."
When T looked to him, his friend shrugged. "I don't know, T. Just thought it was weird she'd take your phone when it was all cracked and shit. Hell, even Ivan’s twins would know it wasn't worth anything, and they’re only five years old."
"This is a good point," Stick said. "And if Rocker's right, then someone now has T's contact list. Which I'm guessing includes most of us?"
T looked around the table, and sighed. "Shit. Yeah, you're all in my contacts." Just like he was in most of theirs. Another screw-up on him.
"Damage control. Any of you have GPS on your phones, turn it off now," Rocker ordered. "Make sure your women and kids do the same. I’ll alert the other brothers. If Faro does have our numbers, we don't know how tech savvy he is. T, you need to change your phone number and your passwords. And please tell me you don't use any banking apps on your phone."
"Nope," T said. "I carry cash, once in a while use a credit card. I better cut that up and get a new one, too." He sighed again, more heavily. "Fuck, now I feel like a plague dog." He couldn't do anything right. Well, except save Manda.
Everyone had their phones out, frowning as they searched for the GPS app—everyone except Rocker, that is. The ex-cop ran a security company, and was way too savvy to let anyone track him in any way he didn't choose to let them.
"What the hell's a plague dog?" Pete asked, gaze on his phone, his thumbs flying.
T shrugged. "Story I listened to, about these two dogs just tryin' to get home across England. But they escaped from a top-secret science lab, an' they're carriers for the bubonic plague, which went nearly extinct way back in the olden days, until these fuckin' scientists decide they wanna play with it. So anyone who tries to help these dogs might catch what they got. Had a real sad ending."
"You read some weird shit, brother," Cooler said, shoving his phone back in his pocket.
"Fiction keeps us sane," Rocker said. When they all looked at him, he winked at T. "That's what my woman says, and since she brings in good coin makin' up stories for those games of hers, I'm not arguing."
"Fuck, yeah. Who's gonna argue with the woman we can thank for the epically hot Sheenah?" T agreed. "Gotta say, playin' a round of Elven Warriors can make a shitty day go away."
Although maybe not this one.
"So does a bottle of whiskey," Bouncer said, shaking his head at the two of them. "And I don't look like an idiot drinkin' it."
Stick rose, cuffing his sgt on the shoulder, his eyes twinkling. "Oh, I wouldn't say that, Bounce. Seen you do a few stupid tricks when you're deep in a bottle."
The other guffawed. Bouncer rose, scowling, and smacked Cooter out of his way as he headed for the door. "Buncha jokers."
"T," Stick said, lingering at the door. "Your girl stays here, she will help out, and carry her own weight, da?"
"Sure, Stick," T said. "I'll see to it." And if it turned out she wasn't much for housework or cooking, he'd slip the cleaning ladies a few extra twenties to make up the slack. He was just tickled that she'd be here, with him. Safe, and close where she could get to know him.
And where, once she was all well and perky again, he could sweet-talk her into some more of that hot, sweet sex.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket. Right now, he had some old ladies to get in on his plan.
"And T," Stick added, his voice once again cold. "We'll revisit your decision not to follow Rocker's orders. We're not done with this, da?"
T swallowed. "Da. I mean, right. I hear you, Stick."
Fuck. Somehow, someway, he'd pay for his disobedience. And if he knew Stick Vanko, it wouldn't be pleasant.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
* * *
Sunday
Manda swam up through layers of fog. A strange beeping noise followed her, and voices echoed.
Her head hurt, worse than she'd ever experienced. She whimpered as she moved, and then again as she tried to shift in the narrow bed, and her bruised body protested
as well.
"Manda," said a firm but kind voice. "Manda? Can you open your eyes for me?"
With a great effort, she complied. A woman with short, spiky, dark hair and red glasses was gazing down into Manda's eyes. She wore a top with teddy bears on it, and a stethoscope around her neck.
The effort of focusing on her was too much, so Manda closed her eyes again.
"No, no going back to sleep just yet. Open your eyes, Manda. That's right." This time, the woman smiled at her. "Great job. I'm Kate, your nurse today."
A nurse? Manda squinted, registering the pole by the side of the bed with a clear IV bag hanging on it, the stand with blinking lights behind it, and the hospital room behind that. "Where am I?" she croaked, her heart pounding with fear.
She had thick bandages on her wrists and she lay covered with a white hospital blanket. "Wh' happen to me?"
The nurse placed a warm hand carefully on Manda's forearm, leaning in. "You're at Sacred Heart Hospital," Kate told her. "You were brought in this afternoon. You have a concussion, and bruising and some abrasions. Do you remember what happened to you?"
"She awake?" asked another voice, this one male.
"Yes, she is," Kate said over her shoulder. "Just give us a few minutes here. She's still woozy. Manda, are you in pain?"
"Yeah," Manda whimpered, her voice breaking. "My head..."
"On a scale of one to ten, where would you place your pain?"
"Ten... it hurts."
"Okay, honey. I'm going to give you a little bit of painkiller through your IV." The nurse busied herself with a syringe and the IV tube. In a moment, she looked at Manda. "Does that feel better?"
Manda sighed as relief drifted through her in a soft, heavy cloud. "Uh-huh. Thanks."
"You bet. Now, before I let anyone else back here, Manda, I need to ask. You have injuries, and when they brought you in, they said you'd been held against your will. Manda, did anyone do anything to you? Anything sexual in nature?"
Manda blinked at her. "Y'mean, like... rape?"
Kate nodded, her hand warm on Manda's arm.
Manda searched her memory, pushing at the heavy cloud. "No," she mumbled. "No. I don't... I don't hurt down there."
"So any sex you had was consensual? Are you sure?"
"Yes... I'm sure." There'd been a guy. A big, ginger-haired man with twinkling eyes. He'd been so nice to her.
Kate sighed. "Okay, Manda. Stay with us now. The police would like to talk to you."
A middle-aged man in a navy windbreaker over a shirt and tie appeared at the nurse's side. His mouth smiled, but his eyes were jaded, watchful.
"Hi, Manda. I'm Detective LaRond, with the Spokane PD. You feel well enough to talk to me?"
Manda lay very still in the hospital bed. Was she in trouble? Something very bad loomed at the back of her mind, ready to strike. "'bout what?"
He blinked. "About how you ended up here with these injuries."
"Hey, Katie," said another male voice, this deep and relaxed. "Our girl awake?"
Kate turned and smiled at whoever stood behind the curtain pulled halfway around the bed. "She is. But—."
"But she's being interviewed right now," Det. LaRond said, his stance and his voice unfriendly.
A tall, lean, handsome man who looked like a rock-star appeared at the foot of Manda's bed. His dark hair was pulled back in a messy man-bun. He wore a black leather vest over a long-sleeved tee, and a silver pendant of some kind. "That's okay, I'll just listen in. Manda's a friend of the club."
He looked to Manda, and gave her a slow, beautiful smile. Kate sighed, and in other circumstances, Manda would have too.
"Hey, babe. I'm Rocker. T-Bear was here all night, but I sent him to get some sleep. He'll be back."
T-Bear... that was his name. Her big ginger man.
The police detective looked like he wanted to bite the rock-star. "Hayes, you got no business here. Go wait in the hall till the real police are through, then Ms Kowitsky can let us know if she wants you here. Though the way she looks, don't know why she'd want any of you boys within restraining order distance."
Rocker's smile remained, but the air in the small space filled with testosterone. "Why would she want us here? Probably because, as Turner told the cop when he brought her in, we had nothin' to do with her injuries, but in fact rescued her. Like I said, she's a friend of the club, and we do not treat our friends this way."
Kate stood at Manda's side, but her attention was on the men.
The thick brew of tension and anger was all too much. Manda lifted a hand, the one that wasn't attached to an IV, and waved it urgently. "'Scuse me. I'm gonna be sick."
After that, things happened fast.
Kate rapped orders, the two men disappeared behind the curtain, and Manda had the extremely unpleasant and painful experience of vomiting with a head injury. It hurt, so badly that by the time it was over, she was weeping helplessly.
Kate settled her with soothing words and a mouth rinse, and then pumped more magic through the IV, enough that Manda relaxed further. Her pain didn't disappear, but the warm cloud was heavier, so nothing mattered.
And the arguing males went away, which was even better.
The next time she woke, it was dark outside. A soft light shone over the head of her hospital bed, the mysterious machines beeped softly. Her head didn't hurt quite as much, although her mouth was so dry she could hardly swallow.
A massive male was slumped in the chair at the foot of her bed. His curly, ginger head down, he was focusing on the phone he held. It's light flickered eerily on his bearded face as he manipulated the screen with his thumbs. It emitted faint music, and rhythmic pops. He grunted, nodding to himself.
"T-Bear?" Manda whispered. What was he doing here?
At once, he lifted his head and looked to her. A slow smiled lifted his cheekbones, and crinkled his eyes. "Hey, honey girl," he rumbled. "There you are."
She examined him with grave wonder as he rose, shoved his phone in a pocket and stepped to her bedside. He wore a faded, long sleeved tee that hugged his massive shoulders and arms, a black leather vest, and dark pants. His hair was pulled back in a way that highlighted his broad forehead and the shape of his face above the beard.
He examined her, and his smile fell away. He opened his mouth and closed it, his brows furrowed, then looked to the small swing-table by the bed.
"Hey, you wanna drink? Bet you're thirsty as fu—uh, as hell, huh?"
She was, so she opened her mouth and accepted the plastic straw he inserted. She drank thirstily, then lifted her free hand to wave the cup away.
He set the cup down and leaned one long arm on the head of the bed, leaning over her like a guardian behemoth. "How you feelin'? You want me to tell 'em you're awake?"
"Not yet," she mumbled. "I don't ... 'member... how'd I get here?"
His eyes, hazel-green in the lamplight, widened. "Uh... you don't remember? You remember me, right?"
"Yeah. We went on a date... only—" Something had gone wrong, she couldn't quite remember what. But the memory of two hundred dollar bills sitting on her nightstand caused her stomach to drop.
Her lower lip quivered as anxiety filled her, and she bit it, then winced as her teeth met tender, bruised flesh. She lifted her free hand to her face, as much to hide behind it as anything else. Her eyes filled with tears—again. Gah, she hated crying in front of people. She sniffled.
"Hey, hey. Whatcha need?" T-Bear asked. "Just tell me, I'll get it."
Manda wiped her face with the edge of her hand, and lowered it to the bed. "I just... wanna know how I got here."
"I brought you, in my truck." He shifted uneasily, his eyes guarded. "You were unconscious. We came in through the ER. The docs checked you over. They, uh, they did a... you sure you wanna hear this right now? Don't you want the nurse?"
"What?" she asked him, clutching the blanket. This was the something bad that she couldn't remember. She could feel it hanging like a menacing weapon about to f
all. "What did they—am I gonna be okay?" Did she have some horrible, inoperable injury?
He held up a big hand, and cautiously patted her leg through the blanket. "'Course you are. You're gonna be fine, perfect. Shit, I didn't mean to scare you."
"Well then, tell me!"
He grimaced. "The docs did one of them rape kits. In case either of those fuck-wads touched or forced you... y'know, before I got there and got you out."
"Oh." That was why the nurse had asked her those questions. "No," Manda said. "No, they didn't... do that. I mean, I'm pretty sure."
She looked up at him, and another memory flashed full-blown into her mind, along with visceral sensations of touch and sound and scent.
"You and me, though? We had sex," she whispered.
He blew out a breath, looking intensely relieved. "Yeah. Yeah, we did. Fuck, glad you remember that. I mean, so you know I wasn't the one who... hurt you."
"Oh, no." She shook her head, and then winced as the slight motion caused pain to shoot through her skull. "I knew that. Ow."
"What?" he asked, his hand moving up to her arm. His skin was rough, calloused, but so very warm. "You hurtin'? You want the nurse?"
"No," she said, holding very still. "Not yet. I need... is my purse here?"
"Not sure. Lemme look."
He squatted, and she heard the rustle of plastic under the bed. He rose with a clear plastic handle-bag in one big hand. "Here's your things."
He set the bag beside her on the bed, and Manda opened it. There was the long, brown sweater. And the pretty gold-and-white dress, streaked with dirt. And the pretty heeled booties. They were in better shape than the dress. Her new undies too, and in one corner, a small, gold purse.
She fished this out and handed it to T, averting her gaze. "Here. What's inside is yours. I don't want it."
He opened the purse and gave her a quizzical look. "Uh, you don't want your makeup shit? Babe, neither do I." He looked like he didn't know whether to laugh or call the nurse.
"No," she said. "There's—there should be money. Two hundred bucks."