“Thor was pissed with me. Pointed out he had plenty of shit going on himself. Threatened to kill me before he hung up. Promised he had no interest in our used-up redhead.” Buck’s jaw twitched at that. “G-Town pointed out that they didn’t come to Markham. The, uh, tend to stand out around here.”
Buck was nodding because he agreed. Sometimes people got caught in the crossfire, kidnapped for ransom. Sometimes people are random victims of crime. Anything could happen to take any scenario from standard to extreme. It was not uncommon for women to get hurt or die. But Gertie’s apartment had been broken into, nothing stolen. She had been specifically targeted.
She didn’t have outstanding debts that Buck knew of, and as far as he knew she’d been living clean for months. This was something else which meant he or the Red Rebels were really going to need to dig and find out who was behind this.
And Buck was torn between being out there helping find the fucks and making them hurt and waiting here to be the one she saw when she finally woke up.
Jayce knew his torn state of mind, jogging him in the shoulder with his fist hard enough to bring Buck back to their conversation and out of his head. “Stay here, be with her. She wakes up send me a text. We find anything out I’ll do the same. Cool?”
Buck nodded, replying “Cool” in a way that showed he didn’t agree but appreciated the sentiment all the same. Without any further conversation he turned and headed back into the room, passing the other patient’s curtained section and taking his seat again. Buck leaned his elbow on the bed, resting his forearm along hers, tucked between her hip under the sheet and her bruised skin. He ran his thumb over her bicep absently, a spot that wasn’t turning purple.
“I’m going to find out who did this,” he promised, letting his voice catch because no one was hearing it anyway. “I’m going to do them worse, I promise.” He ran his other hand through his hair, catching in the knots and yanking hard. “I should have been there.”
He rested his chin on his own bicep, closing his eyes and leaving his hand on her arm. It didn’t even smell like his Gertie’s skin. Everything here smelled like antiseptic.
Buck must have dozed off, because the next thing he was aware of was a hand on his hair, playing with it and running it between fingers. With an urgent jolt he sat up, yanking his chair closer to the head of the bed, grabbing her hand in both of his and kissing it. She gasped, and maybe he was hurting her but he couldn’t help it.
He held her knuckles against his forehead, steadying breathing and forcing his eyes not to water, not to turn red and give him away like that.
“David.” It croaked out so rough, hoarse. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, the sound of his proper first name almost cutting him. All the times he’d gotten pissed that she used it in front of his brothers, all the times he’d been an ass period, came back in a flood of memories that made him cringe.
He raised his head, trying to smile, sliding to the very edge of the seat, knowing he might be crowding her but unable to let go. “Gertie,” he whispered, wishing it sounded stronger. But the way she looked and knowing how badly she’d been hurt was killing him.
Her hand played over the hair at his temple again, and he closed his eyes to enjoy that feeling. He’d always liked her doing that. “”How long was I out for?” she asked, voice sounding scratchy. It made her cough, and he knew that had to hurt so he was on his feet immediately, going for the plastic up and pitcher next to her bed. He poured her a half a cup and helped her hold it up to her mouth to drink. Her lips were both split. There was still some dried blood on her face, now that he was this close and could see it.
She pushed on his hand when she’d had enough and he lowered the glass, setting it down and taking his seat again. “You’ve been out for a day. They had to do surgery, babe. They drilled a hole in your head, your brain was swelling.”
One eye was almost swollen completely shut, but he caught a flash in the other one. “Did they shave my head?” she snapped.
Buck blinked then cut up, throwing his head back and laughing while trying not to wake the guy in the next bed.
She squeezed his hand. “That’s not funny,” she was insisting. “You always said my hair was nice.”
He shook his head and kissed her knuckles again. “You hair is nice,” he admitted. “But without you attached to it it’s nothing. I thought I was going to lose you.”
“I thought so, too,” she replied softly.
“Who was it?” he asked after a pause, leaning into her even more. “You gotta tell me who did this. I’m gonna rip them apart, I promise.”
She swallowed, turning her head on the pillow to face him better, giving her less-swollen eye a clear view. “I didn’t recognize them,” she answered steadily. “They broke the door down. They just came at me, too many of them to do anything about it. I hit and scratched. One held me down while the other one kicked me.”
The doctor had assured him already that she hadn’t been violated in any other ways, but he had to ask anyway. “Did they do anything other than hit you?”
She shook her head. “No. I was scared of that when the one pinned me down but then they were just hitting me and kicking me.”
It was shitty that he felt better about that, but he did. “Did they say anything? Anything that’ll tell me who they were?”
She frowned. “They were talking about my father. Asking me when I saw him. Then they tossed the apartment once I was nearly unconscious, saying shit about him. Calling him names.”
Buck’s blood settled then and he realized he’d been expecting all this time that this shit was his fault, because of his affiliations. But it wasn’t; it was her father bringing this shit down on her.
Buck caught her eyes again, the pain so apparent in her entire body, and he kissed her hand again. “Get your rest, Gertie. It’ll help you heal, okay? We’ll get this sorted out.”
Chapter Seven
-TWELVE MONTHS EARLIER-
After Jim had attacked her in the washroom, Maggie cajoled Gertie into doing “the right thing.” She reported it and filed a restraining order. They asked if she wanted to press charges but she couldn’t see that doing any good; there was just the two of them, his word against hers and he was more beaten up than she was. The restraining order would have to do.
Maggie was fantastic throughout this entire process. Tough-talking confidence with moments of soft sympathy, exactly what Gertie needed to go back to work the following Monday.
Maggie even sat at Gertie’s side when Gertie told her boss about the incident, presenting a copy of the restraining order for him to see.
Jim took a leave of absence, and it looked as though he might never come back. The first week or two it seemed as though Gertie would be fine, her work wouldn’t suffer.
But slowly things started to feel very strange. Maggie was still as present and friendly as ever. But when Gertie would enter the break room or the outside gardens alone all conversations being held by her coworkers would stop. She’d be met with dead silence and slowly the room or area would empty as everyone suddenly realized they had other places they needed to be.
Diana and Grace were no longer available for drinks or visits, either. Maggie got invited to gatherings and parties and was asked not to bring Gertie along. Maggie would tell her this, which, to Gertie, meant Maggie still intended to go so please don’t think I’m leaving you out of things.
How could this happen in this day and age? Honestly? She was being chastised when word got out she’d reported that Jim attacked her? He had, she wasn’t making shit up because he rejected her or some bullshit. And it wasn’t just men avoiding her out of fear she’d turn the same dirty trick on them. Her female coworkers were in on it, too.
And how fucked up was that?
One Friday afternoon while she was first realizing she had absolutely no plans for the weekend a knock came at her door. It was a quiet girl named Tanya from the human resources department, and Gertie suffered a moment of impractica
l fear that somehow she was in shit because HR was at her office door.
Tanya took a seat across from her after closing the office door, not saying a word the entire time, then she looked Gertie square in the eye. Her face crumbled and her eyes watered, making Gertie wonder what the hell was going on as she reached behind herself for a box of Kleenex and set it closer to Tanya.
“I’m sorry,” Tanya sputtered, grabbing a tissue and covering her nose and mouth with it cupped inside her hand.
“Sorry for what?”
Tanya shook her head. “It’s a brave thing you’ve done,” she whimpered before falling apart again.
Gertie, speechless, sat absolutely still and waited for the girl compose herself. After a couple sets of tissues were gone Tanya was able to speak. “You did what I couldn’t,” she whispered.
Gertie felt her blood run cold. “What?”
“Jim … one night I was working late and he came into my office. He … he didn’t really rape me he just … wouldn’t let me go until I agreed.”
Gertie swallowed hard and looked out her window, waiting for the sudden white flash to pass. It wasn’t s a flash of shock, it was a flash of fury.
“He didn’t hit me, either. So I mean, what could I do? I stopped saying no eventually. It … it wasn’t really that bad.”
Gertie’s eyes closed and she took a calming breath. Here she was, a social pariah after being attacked, hands put on her that were not welcome, and someone already had the chance to shut the asshole down and she didn’t. She left the door wide open for him to do it again. It was this upsetting and he actually hadn’t gotten all the way done with Gertie. How the hell had Tanya just shrugged it off and gone back to work?
When Gertie opened her eyes again Tanya was watching her expectantly, hands twisting and mutilating a pile of tissues nervously. Gertie set her jaw then with surprising coldness simply said, “Get out.”
“Gertie, I -”
“Get out. And don’t talk to me unless it’s for work.”
“I’m sorry,” she wailed but Gertie would hear none of it.
“I said get out,” Gertie repeated, springing to her feet and stalking to the door. It was yanked open with possibly too much force but the point was at least made. Tanya left, and Gertie swore never to tell the woman’s secret since it wasn’t her story to tell. But at that moment Gertie decided she was done with other people.
-oOo-
Gertie was alone again. Evenings and weekends were spent at home alone, drinking wine and watching TV. Just like it was after Darryl left.
There was no better state of mind that was better for what came next. She had stopped answering the phone at home, took to her work with frightening intensity, most weekends she’d get her groceries and laundry done on Friday night just to spend the weekend comforted by pajamas and a wine-soaked buzz.
That was how her brother, Louis found her one Sunday morning. He’d been trying to call but she’d unplugged the phone. When she saw him standing in the hallway outside her condo door she was surprised, yes, but mostly embarrassed that he was seeing her in the state she was in. Hung over, in need of a shower, a living and breathing mess.
Her older brother was the spitting image of their father. Handsome, dark, tall and athletic. His thick hair hung heavy over his forehead. He was impeccably dressed and groomed, as always. It was one of the things their mother had been so incredibly proud of in her sons.
His chocolate brown eyes trailed down her outfit of flannel pants, sweatshirt and bare feet with barely concealed distaste. She was in direct contrast to his dress pants and short-sleeved button down and he clearly found her lacking.
His bitchiness was also passed down from their mother.
Gertie ran a hand over her hair in a sad attempt to straighten herself out. “Louis?” she croaked, coughing because of her dry, parched throat.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Louis asked, crossing his arms. “Are you hung over or still drunk?”
She was still drunk but fuck him. “I’m sick,” she lied, moving away from the door. “Come in. If you’re here to help me feel better.”
She flopped back onto her sofa, cuddling into her pillows and pulling the throw blanket over herself. She likely looked like she’d been sick all weekend.
Louis entered the living room, his sharp eyes running over her furniture, possessions, and the bottle of Chateauneuf du Pape that sat empty on the coffee table. “Well that’s an interesting way to get over the flu.”
“What do you want?” Gertie mumbled, squeezing her eyes shut and wishing that he’d just go away.
“I have bad news, Gertie.”
Gertie made an amused sound. “Why not? Because life has been going so well lately -”
“Mom died.”
Her condo grew even quieter, and she sat up, staring at him and looking for signs he was pulling her leg in a terribly cruel way. “What?”
Louis sat on the ottoman next to the coffee table with legs splayed, facing her and locking his hands between his knees. “Wednesday night she fell, hit her head. Must have been bad, she couldn’t get up. Threw up, choked on it, died.”
Gertie’s hang over went cold and her head started spinning. “Shit,” she muttered.
“The maid found her on Friday, around suppertime. We’ve been calling but you’re not answering so I came by to tell you.”
There was a lot of unsaid drama here. Gertie’s mother was a raging alcoholic. It had been private when she was married to Gertie’s father, but when the divorce happened her mother spiraled into the town drunk; everyone knew it and everyone ignored it.
“Funeral is on Tuesday,” Louis said softly, breaking her out of her reverie. “Saint David’s. Internment right after. Then we’re all getting together at MacGillvary’s. Can you try to be there? Sober?” He stood and started for the door. “Try not to do our mother too proud, Gertie.”
The apartment door slammed behind him and Gertie stared at her reflection in the silent, dark television. It was no secret Gertie’s mother had always resented her, been hard on her at every turn and nit-picked her more than her brothers. And her father clearly declaring Gertie to be Daddy’s Girl had never helped matters. Now Gertie had to wonder if her mother’s hormones hadn’t been all screwed up because of her last pregnancy. That would explain a hell of a lot, actually.
Gertie settled back into her pillows, throwing one arm over her eyes with a groan. She dozed off trying to conjure up a memory of her mother that was happy and joyous. She couldn’t come up with anything.
Chapter Eight
“Unbelievable,” Jayce muttered, running hands over his hair and sighing.
The Rebels’ treasurer-slash-secretary Mickey shrugged and nodded his agreement. “I know. Big, brass, swinging balls on these guys.”
Word had just reached the clubhouse that G-Town was sending dealers into Markham to sell ice. Tiny had some booty-call slam that lived down the street from the elementary school, she called him and told him about these two assholes right out on the street making weird hand-shakes to certain people walking by.
That’s the school where Jayce Junior just started attending kindergarten, too.
“We patrol those neighborhoods starting tonight,” Jayce decided. “Catch a few of them. Make them talk. Maybe even scare them enough they stay the fuck away.”
“I’ll start tonight,” Buck offered, finger up in the air.
“Me too,” Knuckles O’Shay grumbled, nodding in Buck’s direction.
“Good. Thanks for stepping up guys.” Jayce rapped his knuckles on the table. “Dismissed. Buck, stick around a second.”
The room emptied and one of the prospects closed the door of the chapel as he left. Buck turned to his Prez, hands out. “What’s up?”
“Dog called me, worried about his brother getting roughed up at his bar a couple weekends ago. Don’t know why he took so long telling me about it, apparently his brother was scared to mention it.”
Buck frowned.
“Haven’t gotten in a fistfight in a while. I have no idea what he’s talking about.”
Jayce leaned forward on his elbows. “The guy’s a square, works for some insurance company. Described someone that sounds a lot like you busting his nose by the bathrooms. He was there with a few broads, more fucking townies.”
Buck blinked then it all came back to him and he tossed his head back to roar with laughter.
“Don’t think it’s funny. Dog helps us out a lot, and we can’t be beating up his family.”
“No no, that’s not funny. I just remembered what he’s talking about.”
Jayce’s eyebrows went high. “Enlighten me.”
“The night we saw the Gypsys at The Dog. I caught this guy heading to the bathroom after this broad I was keeping an eye on myself. He got all shifty, looking around the room to see if anyone saw he was leaving. I headed after them, just worried he was up to no good.”
Jayce chuckled. “So you’re telling me you broke his nose protecting this lady’s honor?”
Buck shook his head. “Wasn’t needed. She head-butted him in the nose. Bust it open. He was leaking like a fucking geyser when I saw him come reeling out of the bathroom behind her. He looked pissed, he was after her. Saw me. I sent him on his way.” Buck shook his head. “Jayce, I woulda told you if I got in a fight. You were there that night, too.”
Jayce was chewing it over, but he also knew Buck wouldn’t lie about something so unimportant. Buck had always been straight with his brothers, they were his family. You don’t lie to family.
Then Jayce cut up, shaking his head as his palm slapped the table. “I can’t wait to tell Dog.”
Buck shrugged. “He didn’t actually get a chance to do anything, she got away without a scratch, just scared. Her and her friends were high as fucking kites; their pupils were huge. I don’t know what they were on.”
“And long as they got it in the city, I don’t care,” Jayce declared, getting to his feet. “Good to hear it wasn’t my guy.”
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