Since I don’t have any clothes at the Clubhouse, I’m dressed in the clothes I was wearing yesterday. I can imagine his dark thoughts about my attire.
“Who’s he?” Maddi asks me, annoyance at his rudeness very evident.
“My father. The Chief of Medicine,” reluctance fills my voice when I answer her question. Sympathy flits across her face for a moment, but I pretend I don’t see it. One eyebrow lifted, she wordlessly asks me to elaborate. “He told Smoke he’s had the Club banned from the hospital.”
“We’ll see about that.”
My father has been watching our exchange, regarding me as if I’ve grown a second head. He’s disappointed in me, a normal state of affairs for our relationship, the difference being that for once the urgent need to salve his dismay at my actions isn’t choking me. I feel no impulse to smooth things over or to bow to what he wants.
“Dr. Patrice.” Maddi sounds determined. “I’m sure you’re aware that this hospital is a public place. It’s illegal to ban anyone from such an area without sufficient reason. The minimum requirement is a prior written warning followed by a meeting to discuss why you feel the need to instigate a ban. And then it will only apply to the individual you feel poses an immediate danger to yourself or your staff. Every member of the Black Shamrocks can come and go as they please until you follow the correct procedures. I’d advise you to think carefully before you pursue that avenue.”
“Are you threatening me?” His regard for Maddi has increased after her speech, his eyes now meeting hers as he re-evaluates his initial assessment of her. “I’d think carefully before you pursue that avenue.”
A big grin covers her face as she listens to his terse rebuke.
Slapping Smoke on the shoulder, she points her head toward the exit. “Dr. Patrice. If I were threatening you, you wouldn’t need to ask. You’d know. We’ll be back later this evening. I look forward to coming and going without any further harassment. Have a great day.”
Wrapping her arm around me again, she nudges me to make me move.
Without another glance at my father, I head for the exit with Smoke and Maddi.
“Just who do you think you are?”
Looking back over her shoulder as we wait for the automatic doors to open all of the way, she answers him in a matter-of-fact manner. “Madelaine O’Brien. Daughter of the Black Shamrocks’ President. Old Lady of the Vice President. Junior Attorney at O’Rourke’s Solicitors. JJ’s new best friend. Basically your worst nightmare.”
Smoke breaks into gigantic guffaws of laughter at her declaration. It’s contagious, and I quickly join in. Lifting her eyebrows at us as we walk to the car park, strangers staring at Smoke and me as we carry on, she asks with a poker face, “What? It’s only fair that I warn the poor man.”
JJ
Present Day
“Something’s up.”
Lifting herself onto the bar stool next to mine, Maddi turns worried eyes at me.
“Has Timber said anything to you?”
Shaking my head, I finish my lemon squash. Lucas’s mom suggested it for my queasy stomach, and it’s worked a treat. I’m on my third for the afternoon.
It’s been crazy since we arrived back at the Clubhouse a few hours ago. Lucas has barely given me five minutes of his time. I wanted to tell him about my run-in with Ollie and how Maddi handled my father. Instead, we shared a brief celebration about the ultrasound. He made a vague promise to take me to it before heading back into the room with the big table that they call the Chapel.
Our silliness at the hospital was interrupted by an abrupt phone call from someone called Lenny. He’d told Smoke to tell Tally to guard Joel’s room, leaving Benji for Beast who was on his way. Then he was ordered to bring the “girls” back to the Compound for imminent lockdown. My hackles rose at the directive, assuaged only by Maddi when her face had turned white at the mention of lockdown.
My flight or fight response had engaged, picking up on her rising angst. The arrangements with Tally were made via phone from the car as we sat waiting for Beast to arrive. We’d driven away the moment Smoke had spotted Beast entering the hospital, a curt nod the only communication between the two men. I’m unsure what’s going on there, but Beast appears to be on the outs with his own Club, Mad Dog and Lucas running the show, barking out orders.
A quick stop at my house and then Lucas’s so that Maddi and I could grab clothes and other necessities, we were back at the crowded Clubhouse before I knew it. So many people—women, children, and Shamrocks I’d never met before—fill every available area. The atmosphere is nothing like any of the parties I’ve attended here. Instead, everyone is pensive.
A dark cloud hangs over the Club.
A dark cloud that’s centered over Maddi.
Worried eyes keep darting her way when she’s not looking, Mad Dog is bowed as if he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. She doesn’t appear to have noticed yet, but it’s only a matter of time.
“Nothing?” she questions me again.
“Nothing, Maddi. We’ve barely spoken. I’ve spent maybe five minutes with him.” My annoyance at being ditched is irrational—I know it is. He’s obviously busy, but I can’t help how I feel. The excitement I felt at the hospital is gone. My initial reservations about Lucas, his Club, our relationship—the ones I’ve had for six months—are playing on my mind.
The baby is a culmination of every worry I’ve had rolled into one needy package that will be here in less than five months.
I need him to reassure me that it will be okay.
“Mik’s being an ass.” She brushes her hair back from her face, blowing her fringe up in exasperation when it falls in her eyes again. “He won’t tell me a damn thing. Not one word. If I mention my dad, he looks like he’s going to have a stroke. There’s a weird vibe between him and Timber, Kyle’s stressing over some sort of electronic mapping, and we’re on lockdown.”
I shrug. I don’t have any more of an idea what’s going on than she does.
“But dare to ask Mik what’s going on, and he tells me nothing. I’m not an idiot.”
She’s pissed off. It’s a little scary to witness.
Running my finger around the rim of my empty glass, I wonder who would win a fight between her and Mad Dog. It would be entertaining to watch—one seems as stubborn as the other.
“Hey, you could ask Timber for me? He’ll tell—”
Her plan is interrupted, and I’m grateful. I’m not asking Lucas for her. He’s made it clear that women are informed on a “need-to-know” basis.
“JJ, come here.” Lucas curtly beckons me over to where he’s standing. His face is drawn, and he barely acknowledges me when I gesture that I’m coming. The only emotion he shows appears when he moves his eyes to Maddi for a quick second, anguish breaking free before he shuts it down.
“You have to tell me what they say,” Maddi whispers as I slide off the stool. Shrugging noncommittedly, I wander over to Lucas.
“You called, Master.” I bow at him, letting my aggravation at his lack of manners show.
Surprise widens his eyes, a rusty laugh breaking free. “I’m sorry, Doll. Can you come here please?”
“Much better,” I concede, my aggravation reducing. “Now, what can I do for you?”
“I hate to ask this, but we don’t have any other choice. I—we need you to do some doctoring for us.”
“What?” Looking around, I try to find the patient. Expectant eyes stare back at me. Nobody in here seems injured. Giving up, I ask, “Where?”
“Come with us.” Mad Dog steps out from behind a group of men. Waving at me and Lucas to follow him, he leads us out of the bar, through a large common room, and into a laundry. Glancing around at the industrial-sized washing machines and dryers, I laugh.
“If you want your clothes washed, you’re barking up the wrong tree. I barely like doing my own.”
My joke falls flat. Lucas grips my hands in his, his eyes imploring me to understand. �
�You know that favor I warned you we’d call in when you least expected it?”
My mind goes back to the day I asked him if I’d owe the Club a favor for helping me with Ollie. “Yes, I remember.”
“Well, the day’s here. You do this, the slate’s wiped clean. Just have to keep your mouth shut afterwards.” I nod at him. I’m calm—I knew this day would come.
Kicking aside a pile of clothes, Mad Dog pulls open a hatch in the floor. Taking a step into a dark stairwell, he holds out his hand to me. I extend my arm toward him, snatching it back at the last second when a question pops into my head.
“What’s down there?”
Lucas pats my ass. “Nothing scary. Just a couple of people we need you to fix for us. I’m coming with you as well.”
Taking Mad Dog’s hand as Lucas holds my hips to steady me, I follow him down the dimly lit rickety stairs. As my eyes adjust to the change in lighting, I gasp when I see four bleeding men suspended from chains wrapped around hooks embedded in the roof. I slap my hand over my mouth when I recognize Connor and two of the men from the house where Maddi and I were held. They’ve been beaten badly, tortured with such savagery that I’m finding it hard to comprehend.
Connor is by far the worst injured, he doesn’t appear to be conscious or breathing, pieces of his flesh missing. Not pieces—deliberate strips. His fingernails are gone as well. Every feature of his face is grotesquely swollen, his fingers are broken. Decisive gouges run down his bare torso.
Vomit rising within me, I tear my eyes away from him.
The remaining three are awake, groaning with pain. They aren’t in quite such bad shape, but they’ve been on the receiving end of similar pain-inflicting activities.
Backing up, I stop when I run into Lucas. He puts two big hands on my shoulders. My eyes drop to the floor, and I scream when I spot a dead body. The man with the goatee, the man Maddi made her agreement with so I could leave, lies in the corner.
Dead. He’s been stabbed viciously, almost disemboweled.
Spinning me around by my shoulders when I scream, Lucas pulls me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me. I’m used to looking at things that would make the average person squeamish every single day, but this is horrifying.
“Shhh, Doll. It’s okay. Don’t feel bad for the fuckers. They deserved every single fucking thing they received.”
Grinding my teeth, I move away from him. “They deserved it? What the hell is wrong with you? Nobody deserves this!”
“I told you this wasn’t a good idea. Should’ve found a way to sneak Doc in here, even with the fucking pigs watching us,” Mad Dog cuts in. He sounds angry. “Take her back to the bar.”
Shooting daggers at him, I lose my temper. “Take me back to the bar? You can take me home. I don’t want to be associated with this! You people are worse than animals.”
Marching to the stairs, I squeal when Lucas picks me up. Slinging me over his shoulder, he walks over to a clear bench and sits me on top of its cold, stainless steel surface. Stepping between my legs, he stares down at me with fury in his eyes. My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath.
“You know who those four fuckers are? They’re the ones who kidnapped you and Princess. Tried to rape her—would’ve killed her if she fought too hard. Would’ve done the same to you if she hadn’t got you out of there. Fuck me, JJ. Get down off your high horse. How can you say they didn’t deserve it?”
When he puts it that way, I’m left uncertain.
I honestly don’t know how to answer him.
Maybe they did deserve it? They didn’t have any mercy for us yesterday. That’s one thing I know for sure. I would have done anything I could to hurt them yesterday if it got me away from them.
Seeing my begrudging acceptance, he continues, “We did what we had to. To protect the club. To protect you. To protect Princess from the fallout. If we didn’t make them talk, we’d all be fucked. You and our baby included.”
Grabbing my cheeks in each hand, he wipes away the tears that are running down them with his thumbs.
I’m crying. I didn’t realize until then.
I don’t know why I’m crying but a sob builds in my chest, and I burst into a fit of hysterics.
Resting my head on his chest, I pull him to me. He places kiss after kiss on top of my head as I cry, still not understanding why I’m crying, but crying nonetheless.
“Shhh, it’s okay. This has been coming. You’ve been too fucking calm.”
Rubbing my back, he holds me while I let it all out.
The fear that’s been lodged in me since I first saw the masked man in my house.
The pressure of trying to deal with the danger that seems to come with his Club.
The apprehension of not knowing what’s going to happen next.
My inability to accept the dark, violent side to the man I love.
As my crying dies down, I mumble an apology. The front of his T-shirt is saturated, my hands gripping his leather so tightly it’s groaning under the strain.
“Don’t say sorry, Doll. This is our life. I know it’s scary, but it is what it is. You’re the only one who can help us right now. If you do, just know that once you patch them up, we’re letting them go.”
His words shouldn’t calm me further, but they do. I decide there and then that I can come to grips with his depravity if I’m able to fix some of it. It’s stupid, but it feels right to me.
Is this our compromise?
Our way of making our different values fit together. He can hurt people, justifying it with his need to protect us, and I can heal as many as I can in order to clear my heavy conscience from knowing what he does?
Pulling back from him once I have myself under control, I wipe my face.
“What do you need me to do?”
“Fix them up enough for us to send them back to their Club. Except Connor. His time is nearly up.”
Uncertainty grips Lucas as he waits for my response to his request. His body is tense. He doesn’t take a breath until I answer him.
“Okay. I’m going to need everything you have, though. You’ve made a mess.”
Filling his lungs in relief, his chest expands against me. He squeezes me tight, saying thank you without words.
“Thank fuck.” Mad Dog breathes a sigh of relief, running his hands through his hair before he starts rummaging through one of the cupboards. Pulling out an assortment of medical supplies, he points at them. “This is everything we have. I can get more if you need it.”
Lucas lifts me off the bench, placing me on my feet in front of the kits.
Making a mental inventory, I grimace. “We should have enough of everything for now. You’re obviously prepared for this sort of stuff.”
Turning to the hanging men, deliberately keeping my eyes away from the dead body as I do, I ask, “Which one goes first? You’ll need to take them down. Put them on the floor for me.”
After shooting me a grateful smile, Mad Dog looks at Lucas, who shrugs in response to his unspoken question. “It doesn’t matter, so I guess you can start with Cam.”
Together the two men unhook the guy I haven’t met before and lie him down on the blanket I spread out to stop him from freezing on the cold, cement floor. Ranking his injuries in order of need, I get to work fixing the damage they inflicted.
Apart from the occasional request for assistance, I work doggedly, first on Cam and then the other two. Connor is left swinging, sporadic rasping the only indication that he’s still alive. I turn a deaf ear to his suffering, intent on doing my best for the three men who’ll be let go once I’m finished.
“Done,” I declare after hours. The three men have been cleaned, stitched up, and sedated. I’ve administered as much pain relief as I could find for them in the Shamrocks mini-hospital setup.
They’ll survive—badly scarred, but alive.
Lucas winks at me, appreciation in his gaze. Mad Dog mutters his thanks.
Wiping my brow, I wrinkle my nose when I take in my blo
odstained hands and clothing.
“I need to clean up before we go back up there.”
“I know. Strip off, and I’ll clean you up. We’ll burn our clothes.”
“What?” I look between Lucas and Mad Dog. I’m not stripping in front of his best friend.
Mad Dog chuckles at my hesitation. Pulling his clothes off until he’s left standing in just his tight boxer briefs, he throws the clothes into a pile. I’m left staring when he strides over to wash his hands, face, and neck at the low sink that runs down one of the walls. I shouldn’t notice how built he is, it’s neither the time nor the place, but I can’t help it.
Maddi is one lucky girl.
Winking at me as he heads for the stairs, I close my gaping mouth, mortified at being busted. I can’t meet Lucas’s eyes, so with red cheeks I stare at the floor, waiting for him to say something.
“Probably deserved that,” he mumbles. I don’t know what he means by that comment, so I don’t answer him. I’m simply thankful that he didn’t call me out on my blatant ogling.
Closing the distance between us, he grips the bottom of my shirt with equally bloodstained hands and pulls it over my head. I don’t have a bra on, so I’m left bare. The cold air in the bunker makes my nipples harden straight away. They tighten further when he drops to his knees in front of me, and runs his tongue down my cleavage to the waistband of my yoga pants.
Goose bumps break out over my entire body from his tongue, and he pulls my pants down my legs, nudging them so I’ll step out of them for him. He throws my clothes on the pile Mad Dog made, his own quickly joining them when he undresses himself.
Picking me up, he carries me to the sink. Setting me down on a fluffy towel next to it, he fills the sink with warm, soapy water.
Washing me down until I’m clean, he pats me dry with the towel. It’s wrong—I know it’s wrong—yet my body responds to his touch as if we are alone in his room, instead of in what is essentially a dungeon with a dead body, a slowly dying man, and three others we’ve just patched up after they’ve been tortured by the hands that are currently arousing me. Even as my body vibrates with need, I refuse to acknowledge it. My shame is just strong enough to overrule my hormones.
Making Choices (Black Shamrocks MC Book 2) Page 24