by Nikki Groom
A freshly carved ‘W’ now hollows his chest.
Retaliation for my infliction.
Revenge on not only him, but me, too.
And a warning that if we want to bring the war, they’re ready for it.
“Oh, fuck, man,” Tex says, glancing over.
“Just drive, Tex,” I whisper, tears creeping into the corners of my eyes as I stroke Ruck’s hair from his face, hoping he will survive this, but knowing deep down that the damage will be far deeper than the surface of his skin.
Ruck moans in a fitful semi-consciousness the whole way back to HQ. JJ calls ahead and has Marnie and Lia there and waiting for him, but I don’t know if it is going to be enough. We avoid hospitals like the plague. We already have Dev laid up, going stir fucking crazy in a hospital bed, and the last thing we need is for Ruck to be there too. But he looks awful, and I don’t know if he’s going to need more medical attention than Marnie can give him.
I talk to Ruck the whole way back, about nothing: simple, stupid stuff that makes me feel like a fucking moron. But my voice drowns out the God-awful sound of his moans piercing my ears. Every little noise he makes, I swear a string in my heart snaps. Tex takes every corner carefully, but floors it on the straights until we’re through the compound gates and parked at the doorway where everyone is waiting for us.
Lia flings open the door with concern etched on her face and worry weighing heavy in her eyes, holding my gaze for longer than I feel comfortable, because I know as soon as the dam breaks, I’m gonna cry me a fucking river for what I’ve put my brother through.
“Get him downstairs. Marnie is waiting with a friend of hers who’s a nurse, too.”
I don’t hesitate, practically running through the joint with Ruck in my arms until I get to his room. I lay him carefully on the bed, trying to ignore all the eyes in the room burning holes into my back. Every brother and even some of their wives are in here, waiting to see the fucking mess I’ve made of things.
“Oh, fuck,” Marnie mumbles under her breath, exchanging a look between her and her blonde friend.
“You do whatever it takes to make him right, hear me?” I pin her hard with my gaze, speaking more harshly than intended but right at this moment, I’m unable to control anything within me, let alone my tone of voice.
She nods, looking him over, prying his eyelids open to check his pupils and checking the pulse in his wrist. I wring my hands together at the side of the bed, clenching my jaw and trying not to watch every little check and movement she makes. She indicates for her friend to check his pulse too, points out the track marks in his arms, and feels his forehead for a fever.
“He’s okay, right? He’s gonna be okay…”
“Ram,” Marnie sighs, shaking her head. “He’s loaded with drugs—who knows what the fuck they are. Could be crank—could be anything. I really think we should get him to—”
“Fine,” I snap, lunging forward to scoop him up in my arms. If he needs to go to the hospital that’s where I’ll fucking take him.”
“Wait!” The blonde girl pushes her hand out between Ruck and me and shakes her head while holding my gaze. “I have everything in my car that he needs. His pulse is fine. I mean, it’s high, but that’s understandable. I’ve seen this a hundred times though, he just needs—”
“Stop fucking talking and do it then!” I yell in her face, pushing myself off Ruck’s bed and grabbing my hair in my hands. She scurries off with Marnie, and I slam my fists against the wall behind, growling under my breath.
A small hand rubs my back softly between my shoulder blades, and I let out a shaky breath. “He’s going to be okay, Ram,” Lia reassures me quietly. “He’s in good hands.”
“It’s my fault,” I whisper.
“No.” She holds me tightly, her arms wrapped around my waist. “We all know what it takes to live this life.”
She holds me until she feels my body relax. Me being angry at the world, yelling at everyone, and throwing my weight around doesn’t help the situation. I need to be strong. For Ruck, for my other brothers, for Sadie. Because they’re all that matter now.
I turn in Lia’s hold and give her a half smile. “I’m sorry.”
“No need.” She smiles back, and I kiss her on the top of her head before she lets me go.
The room has emptied, and I’m glad. Ruck needs quiet, and rest. “He’s gonna be okay, right?” I come back to Ruck’s bedside, next to the blonde girl.
“Yes,” Marnie’s friend answers without looking up at me.
“What’s your name?”
“Kat,” she answers, fixing tubes to a drip and hooking a bag up on a metal stand.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” I offer my apology to Kat, feeling like an ungrateful asshole.
“It’s okay. You get used to it when you’re a nurse.” She gives a small shrug.
“Well, you shouldn’t have to. Especially when you’re helping someone. So, I am sorry, and…thank you.”
“No problem,” she answers flatly, busying herself. I make a note in my head to buy her some fucking flowers or something—chicks like flowers, right?
“What can I do?” I ask, looking Ruck up and down and having to clamp my jaw shut to push back the swell of emotion. He looks lifeless, but his chest rises and falls evenly, so I know he’s just knocked out by whatever shit Hobo plunged into his system.
“Nothing.” She stops, putting her hand on her hip and looking at me sternly. “I’ve given him painkillers, antibiotics, and intravenous fluids. He’s gonna be pretty much out of it for twenty-four hours.”
“But he’s gonna be okay?” I ask, needing her to repeat this over and over again until my ears bleed with her reassurances.
“Yes… this time.” She glares at me hard, and I feel like a schoolboy that’s just been told off for tripping someone up in the playground.
“Thank you,” I say quietly, glancing over to Marnie who gives me a thin smile.
He’s going to be okay. He’s in good hands.
Chapter 8
It’s dark by the time I go back to the rental apartment. I don’t want to face Vaughn after all the things I said to him, but I don’t know where else to go, or what else to do. I’m lost. Not in the literal sense. I know my way around San Francisco like the back of my hand. But I don’t feel like I belong anywhere. My roots were always here, and for so long, it felt like I wouldn’t ever call anywhere else home. Despite the painful memories of my childhood, it still felt like my heart was here. Maybe because it’s where my mom and brother are that I felt this was where I belonged. But sitting at their grave for hours today, I realized, they’re not there at all. All that’s left of them is a shell. Lifeless rotted bodies that carried two beautiful souls until they were cruelly snatched away and the bodies were left to die. Nothing more than a carcass and a broken heart.
I ready myself for an angry Vaughn when I open the door to the apartment, but I get nothing. Instead, when I walk into the kitchen, I find that Vaughn is nowhere to be seen and Nate is sitting at the table with his head in his hands.
“Hey…” I say, feeling uneasy when he doesn’t even glance up to look at me.
“Hi,” he mumbles back.
“What’s—” I stop in my tracks as he lifts his head up. One eye is swollen almost shut, his lip is split, and he has severe bruising pretty much everywhere, even down his neck. “Oh my God, Nate.” I rush to his side, holding his face gently in my hands and inspecting the damage closer. “What the hell happened to you?”
“You should see the other guy,” he jokes, but I don’t find it in the least bit funny.
“You need an ice pack.” I pull out a bag of frozen peas from the freezer. “You gonna tell me what happened?” I ask, pressing them to his cheek.
“Ouch,” he hisses in a breath, and although I feel some sympathy for him and he really looks fucking awful, I roll my eyes at him. “What?” he says, shrugging. “It hurts like a bitch.”
“Is anything broken? Your
nose? Your jaw?” I ask.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Then stop being such a pussy.” I make him hold the peas and grab myself a huge glass of tap water before sitting opposite him.
“Smaller than we’re used to, huh?” he asks, glancing around the tiny kitchen and avoiding my question. I narrow my eyes at him, but let it go. It’s none of my business, and he’s not seriously hurt, just surface bruising by the looks of things.
“Yeah.” I shrug. I don’t know how Vaughn came by this place. I don’t know if it’s his, or if he’s acquired it on a short-term rent as an emergency. Rental properties like this in San Francisco are easy to come by if you have the cash, and Vaughn has it in truckloads. I don’t actually care because I don’t plan on being here for long. I don’t know where I’ll go or what I’ll do. But I do know that my place under Vaughn’s roof, wherever that may be, has come to a natural end. I never believed you could feel like you had your wings clipped—that was until I realized I had wings. Now I want to stretch them out wide and far. Wherever that might take me.
I still have a mission to fulfill.
“Where’s Vaughn?” I ask Nate, who takes the ice pack off his face and drops it down on the table.
“He had business to attend to.” He stands and busies himself, tidying a few cups, and filling the kettle up to make coffee.
I let out a wry laugh. “Yeah, business.” I shake my head, staring into the glass of water in front of me.
“Don’t knock it. It’s given you a life…”
I frown at his words. “A life?” I choke out.
“Yes, Sadie.” He places his palms flat on the table in front of me. “He sacrificed an awful lot for you. He treated you as his own. He gave you everything he could to make your life better, and quite honestly, you act like a spoiled little girl sometimes.”
“Are you for real, right now, Nate?” I sit back in my chair, a little taken aback at his comment.
“Yes, I’m for real,” he barks, pushing off the table and staring out of the window that watches over a children’s playground. “You would have ended up in the foster system. Then who knows what might have happened to you. He didn’t want that for you.”
“Or…” I scrape my chair back and stand next to him. “They might have tried to trace my dad. I might have still had a family.”
He turns to me, stroking his hand softly down my hair, and I let him because the physical touch feels so welcome, so comforting. “We’re your family, Sadie. I’ll always be here for you.” His hand settles on my face, his thumb brushing back and forth across my cheekbone. I lean into his warm touch, closing my eyes and feeling my whole body relax, feeling safe, feeling cared for, feeling…wanted. My breath shudders through my chest and images of Ramsey flash before my eyes.
This is wrong.
So wrong.
I jump back, pulling myself from his touch, and wondering what the hell is wrong with me.
This is Nate, for fuck’s sake. Nate!
He’s like a brother to me. But he’s not my brother, and judging by the look on his face, he also felt something just then. I know my weakness was the need for comfort. Closing my eyes and seeing Ramsey’s face, remembering his touch, was all the comfort I needed. I have no interest in Nate. Or any other man for that matter.
“I’m sorry, Sadie. I didn’t mean to—”
“No, no, it’s fine. I should really get showered and—”
“Sadie, don’t.” He reaches out, touching my elbow with his fingertips. “Stop and have some coffee with me. I don’t want things to be weird between us, and if you run away now, it will be.” He gives me an apologetic smile, then turns back to the window, watching the world go by as he makes coffee. As I watch him, I notice there’s something different about him.
“Where’s your chain?” I ask. He usually wears a thick, heavy titanium link around his neck—always has as long as I’ve known him. There’s a red mark where it used to be.
He puts his hand up, rubbing the mark as he turns to me. “Uh, the clasp snapped. I need to get it fixed.”
As soon as he answers, the silence stretches between us and my throat starts to tighten. I haven’t had a panic attack since back in the yard with Ramsey—when JJ was nice to me.
“You know,” I say, swallowing hard. “I should shower …” I don’t want this to happen here, in front of Nate, but I can feel it pushing up through my body, and the thought of being on the receiving end of his concern feels too intimate. Just being in the same room feels wrong. “Thanks, though.” I turn and almost run down the hall to the bathroom, ignoring his calls. I slam the door, lock it shut and slide to the floor with my back against it and my knees drawn up tight to my chest. Ramsey’s voice echoes in my head.
Breathe in…and out.
The panic attack eventually subsides. But the tears come.
Ramsey made me feel like I was strong. But all the time, he was making me weak.
Vaughn has thought of everything. He’s packed up most of my clothes and had Nate buy me a new laptop. Everything I need to start over. He’d picked up my life, and stuffed it in a rucksack. Twenty-four years on this earth, and nothing more to show for my life than leather and lace, and a few tank tops.
I didn’t even look at the new laptop.
Fuck the work that is due. Fuck the design I could do. I want out.
This life sucks. I want a new one.
It’s amazing how much clarity you gain just by standing in a scalding hot shower. The water not only washes away doubt and uncertainties but brings focus and direction. Before Ramsey Dalton, I had settled into Reno because I had a goal. A target. A focus.
I was going to rid the world of scum.
So it doesn’t matter where I live. It doesn’t matter that I’m alone with no possessions to speak of because that goal still stands. I’m righting the world and restoring some kind of balance.
I pull on some clothes and towel-dry my wet hair. While Nate is on a call in the kitchen, I creep into his room and rummage through the pockets of his jacket which he’s tossed on his bed. He is always well armed, and there is a gun strapped to him at all times, even when he sleeps, but he always keeps a spare in the pocket of his jacket.
Bingo.
I left Reno with nothing. No cell, no cards, no money, and no gun. I’m completely dependent on Vaughn, and I fucking hate that more than anything else. But weighing Nate’s gun in my palm, I immediately feel more like my old self. More confident—more capable. No matter what might cross my path, I have firepower. Money I can live without. A gun is all the money I need.
I leave the rental, clicking the door shut quietly behind me and with no intention of coming back anytime soon. I don’t know where I will go, or what I will do. But anywhere is better than here.
I walk through the main streets, eyeing everyone cautiously. Watching closely for anything that’s not quite right. Anything that could alert me to the ‘Donny Carden’s’ of San Francisco.
There is a place I know of, and the kind of asshole I’m looking for, frequents there. Often, with a penchant for the younger dancer girls. When you work the bar in a place like Shotgun Blue, you get to see the scum of the earth come out to play every night. I didn’t work there long. Two weeks behind the bar, and I was sick of fighting off the not so subtle advances of assholes like Mickey Rudd. He was pushy, slimy, and sick in the fucking head. All the girls that danced there thought he had investments tied up in the place as the owner, Garrett James, would arrange underage girls to come in to dance, especially for his pleasure.
Well, tonight, with the courtesy of Nate’s gun, the pleasure was going to be all mine.
“Where do you think you’re going, young lady?” The gorilla at the door grumbles at me, shoving his arm across the entrance.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” I turn to face him, tilting my head and fluttering my lashes. “I’m new here. It’s my first night dancing, and I’m a little nervous.” I smile up at him, perfecting the coy, innocent
look, and charming my way in.
“Girl,” he groans, dragging his gaze up and down my body. “Them guys gonna love your cute, innocent, face,” he comments, dropping his head to whisper in my ear. “Your body as innocent as you make out?”
I grit my teeth, shaking off the filthy feeling that he’s just thrown over all my senses. Then I smile. He might have just earned himself a place on my hit list.
“If you play your cards right, you might just find out.” I wink and slide past him, entering the dark, dingy club, and heading straight for the girls’ dressing rooms. New girls come and go from here all the time. Some last a month, some not even an hour. It’s a dirty fucking business, but it’s good money for the ones with a stone heart and a cast iron stomach.
There are a few girls coming and going, but no one even takes notice of me as I fluff up my hair in the mirror, backcombing it a little and fixing it with some spray. I pull my black tank down lower, so the top of my red bra shows and my cleavage is eye-catching. Then I slick on some red lipstick and paint on some eyeliner and shadow to create a smoky effect.
“Candy will pull out your pretty shiny hair extensions if she sees you using her shit,” one of the girls comments to me as she walks past. I laugh. For one, my hair is real—there’s nothing fake about me. For two, I’m outta here. Candy won’t ever know a thing.
I glide past the bar, swiping an unattended drink as I go, and surveying everyone that’s here. And as if time stands still and nothing ever changes, there’s Mickey Rudd. Sitting in his usual corner with a young girl on his knee. His fingers trail up and down her bare leg, and despite the smile she has on her face, it’s clear she’s hating every second of it. It’s all I can do not to pull out my gun and fill his head with bullets. But I won’t do that right now.