Their Independent Submissive [Knights in Black Leather 5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Marla Monroe

  “We’d better be going, ladies. We can check on her tomorrow once she’s had time to rest and recuperate some,” Tag said.

  Taylor and Tessa said good-bye and let Tag lead them out of the curtained-off area. That left her alone with the guys and her son. The physician walked over with a clipboard in his hand and checked her hand. He looked at her head, which made her wonder why.

  “Okay. You have a bump on your forehead, but there’s no evidence of any bleeding or swelling according to the CT. That doesn’t rule out a slight concussion, so we will be sending you home with the normal head injury instructions, including someone waking you up every two hours to make sure you are still okay,” he said.

  “I don’t remember hitting my head. Did it bleed?” she asked.

  “No, there was no laceration, just the bump that will be tender for a few days. You may have a little more discoloration than you have now, but it won’t be too bad. Now your wrist and hand,” he began. “Your wrist is sprained but not broken. Your hand, however, is broken. You have two broken bones that are in good placement and should heal without a problem. The good news to that is that you didn’t need surgery.”

  “How long will I need this splint thing on it?” she asked, trying to focus despite the fuzziness swirling around in her head.

  “Probably six weeks, but you’ll need to see an orthopedic doctor in a week to recheck the placement. If you take care of it and don’t try to use it, you may get out of it a little early. Otherwise, you could prolong the time or even damage it so that you have to have surgery. That means no lifting of anything for a week. After that, you need to discuss your limitations with the orthopod—um, orthopedic doctor.”

  “But I have to work. I can’t not work. How am I supposed to waitress with only one hand?” Fear and worry started creeping back inside. This was bad.

  “I’m sorry, dear, but you don’t have a choice if you want to be able to use your hand in the future and not prolong or worsen your recovery.” The physician drew in a deep breath and pulled a few papers off the clipboard. “No I’ve written you a prescription for pain medication you can take every four to six hours as you need it. I would make sure you are able to take a dose before trying to sleep at night. You can use up to four ibuprofen every four hours to help with the pain when you don’t want to take the other medication. Just don’t start the Ibuprofen until after the next twenty-four hours. We want to make sure you don’t start bleeding in your brain and the ibuprofen could make it worse. Now, do you have any questions for me?”

  Yes, she had questions, but she couldn’t focus on them right then. She was too worried about not being able to work. She could hear the men talking around her, but Darla just held on to her son and tried to figure out what to do to pay the bills. There had to be something she could do. They had about eight hundred dollars in savings she’d been trying to build for Tommy. That would pay the rent and utilities for the upcoming month, but it wouldn’t feed them.

  “Okay, ma’am. Let’s get this IV out of you so you can go home. I know you’re anxious to go.”

  Darla looked up and realized the doctor was gone and both Gunner and Scope had stepped back to allow the nurse fiddling with the thing in her hand room to work. She looked down at Tommy and realized he’d fallen asleep and was still cuddled against her.

  “There you go. Everything is done and your papers are signed, so as soon as one of these nice men brings the car up, I’ll wheel you out in a wheelchair,” the nurse said.

  “I’ll go get the truck, Gunner. You stay with her and take care of Tommy,” Scope said.

  “What about the discharge papers?” she asked, finally finding her tongue.

  “I’ve got them, sweet pea. All you have to do is relax and let Gunner and I handle everything.” Scope smiled and winked, then hurried through the curtain.

  “Here, babe. Let me take Tommy. He’s asleep and has to be dead weight on your shoulder. That’s not good for the blood supply to your hand.”

  Darla didn’t argue since her arm was beginning to ache again. He easily picked her son up and held him against one shoulder. She had to swallow back a sob at the sight of her little boy cradled in Gunner’s arms. They looked right together.

  “Are you hurting? Why are you crying, Darla? Do I need to get the nurse back?” Gunner was leaning over the stretcher, staring down at her with what looked like fear. The man didn’t fear anything. Why did he look like that?

  “No. I’m okay. Just the medicine making me emotional, I guess. I’m worried, and that doesn’t help.”

  “You don’t have anything to worry about, Darla. Scope and I will take care of you and Tommy. There’s nothing for you to do except to rest and get well. You’ve scared ten years off our lives.” Gunner frowned and rubbed Tommy’s back in slow circles.

  “Gunner, I have to work to pay the bills. How will I ever be able to keep a roof over our heads if I can’t go to work? I don’t want to even think about what this is going to cost. I don’t have health insurance to cover it,” she whispered around the sob threatening to break free again.

  “Stop it, Darla. You’re going to make yourself sick and wake Tommy. He doesn’t need to see you all upset, babe. Just breathe and calm down. I told you that Scope and I are taking care of you. You’re going to move in with us where you’ll be safe and we can care for you,” Gunner said.

  “What? Move in with you? We can’t do that! We aren’t married and there’s Tommy to think about.”

  “We’re taking care of you, and that’s final. We’ve already told everyone you’re our fiancée, so you might as well get ready. We’ve claimed you, baby. You and Tommy belong to us.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “You did what?” Scope couldn’t believe what Gunner was telling him.

  “She was making herself sick worrying about how to pay her bills and take care of Tommy. She still thought someone would take him away from her. What was I supposed to do?” Gunner snarled before stomping over to the fridge.

  “You didn’t have to tell her we’d claimed her. She knows what that means here. No wonder she wasn’t talking all the way home from the hospital. I was going to convince her that staying with us while she recuperated was the best thing for her and Tommy. Now she thinks we planned this together,” Scope said. “Fuck!”

  “We did plan this together. Don’t even try to pin this all on me, man.”

  Scope watched as Gunner grabbed a beer from the refrigerator. Gunner was right. They had planned all of it but in a specific order. He’d wanted to ease her into being with them, not hit her over the head with it like a damn caveman move. He glared over at his friend. Caveman suited Gunner just fine.

  “Look. We’ve got to talk to her about this and set things straight,” Scope told him.

  “Well, we can’t do that until those drugs are out of her system. She needs to have a clear head.” Gunner looked at his watch and sighed. “We’re going to need to wake her up in another hour. I’m going to check on Tommy and be sure he’s okay in a strange place.”

  Scope watched the other man stomp off. How in the hell were they going to fix this now? He’d wondered why she’d refused to look at him on the way home. He’d expected her to ask why they weren’t taking her and Tommy back to their place, so when she didn’t say a word, he began to worry that her head injury was worse than they’d thought.

  “Should have known better than to leave her alone with Gunner after what happened to her.”

  Hell, they didn’t really even know the entire story. All they’d been told was that someone had come into the store and tried to rob her. They didn’t have a clue how they’d caught the guys or who found her to get help. He wanted like hell to ask her but wasn’t about to wake her up or drag her through it again. As soon as they’d checked on her again he was going to call someone and find out. How in the hell had her hand gotten broken? What about the nasty-looking knot on her head?

  One thing he did agree with Gunner about. She would never work a
nywhere dangerous again. No matter what happened between the three of them, he’d make damn sure she didn’t work herself to death or risk her life doing dangerous jobs.

  Fifteen minutes later, Gunner walked back in wearing a thoughtful expression. Scope stared at him. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen that look on his friend’s face before in all the years he’d known him. He waited to see what the other man would say.

  “Tommy’s fine. Sleeping without a murmur,” Gunner said, turning one of the chairs at the table around backward to straddle it. “You know. He really looks a lot like Darla. They both have the same eyes and that serious look when they’re thinking.”

  Scope wasn’t sure where Gunner was going with this. He just nodded and pulled two more bottles from the fridge. He opened both of them, tossing the tops into the trash, and strode across the kitchen to set one on the table next to the other man. Then he pulled out a chair and turned it to face Gunner.

  “His mouth’s different though, and his chin is squarer than hers,” Scope added.

  Gunner looked into Scope’s face with a hard expression. “Does he remind you of anyone you know? Can you see his dad in him?”

  Scope frowned. “No. He doesn’t look like anyone except Darla to me. Why?”

  “Because whoever the son of a bitch is, he needs his ass handed to him. What man would allow the mother of his child to work like that? Even if I didn’t want to live with a woman, there is no way I would ever let my child suffer or the woman who gave him life live like they do.”

  Scope could see the fire in Gunner’s eyes now, and that worried him. “We both agree that the bastard is scum. I’d like nothing more than to give him a piece of my mind, too, but I don’t know who he is, and I’m damn sure she isn’t about to tell us.”

  His friend looked hard at him before sucking half the bottle of beer down. He looked away for a few long seconds then turned back to Scope, his eyes still burning with something that Scope really didn’t want to see in his friend.

  “She could have died tonight, man. Do you get that? All because some asshole out there didn’t want to take responsibility for what he’d helped create.”

  “Hell yeah, I get it. I think I lost a few years off my life when we got that call. I lost another couple when I saw her lying on that stretcher. Don’t ask me if I get it like you think it didn’t bother me. I fucking love her. The thought of losing her is like a rusty knife to my gut.” For the first time since they’d agreed to watch each other’s asses almost eight years ago, Scope wanted to hit Gunner.

  “I can’t control this, Scope. You wanted us to be partners in everything, including building a family and taking a wife. It wasn’t enough for me to agree and help you take care of her. You wanted it all. Well, you’ve got it all, Chester. I’m fucking in love with her and I don’t know how in the hell to deal with it. She’s under my skin and in my blood and I’ve barely kissed her. How do you think it’s going to be after I’ve really tasted her, man? How will I control what I’m feeling the first time someone says one cross word to her? I hope you know, because I sure as hell don’t.” Gunner downed the rest of the beer and threw it across the room to splinter against the far wall.

  Scope felt the force of his friend’s emotions as he stood up, nearly overturning the chair in the process. Gunner strode across the room and out the French doors onto the back deck. Then he disappeared into the darkness. Scope drew in a deep breath and let it out. Then he did it again and tried to quell the quaking in his bones. Gunner was afraid. His friend wasn’t afraid of anything, not even death. If Gunner was afraid of how he was going to handle being in love with Darla, Scope was terrified.

  Gunner out from under the skin-tight control he always maintained was something to worry about. Scope might have an obsession with Darla, but Gunner would be obsessed with her. The restraint he always showed anytime they worked a woman in a scene at a club or a hotel room was nothing compared to how he disciplined his every action when there was a chance something might upset him—like the children.

  He’d lived his entire life with learning how to control the constant anger that rode him. Anger at his mother for abandoning him, anger at not being able to live like other children, rage just for the fact that he never knew when he’d get sent somewhere else and have to start over. Scope didn’t think Gunner even knew where the anger came from, only that it was always there, always waiting for something to unleash it.

  In all the years that they’d known each other, Scope had never seen it unleashed before, but if they found Tommy’s father or if the guys who had robbed Darla ever ended up out on the street and Gunner found them, Scope had a sick feeling he’d see it for himself. He had to figure out how to help his friend keep it locked down.

  Scope checked his watch. He could check on Darla now. Then he’d call Eric or Troy and find out exactly what happened during the robbery. And he might warn both men not to let anyone give Gunner the men’s names. He didn’t give a rat’s ass if Gunner hurt them bad, but he didn’t want Gunner to end up in jail.

  Scope took one last look at the French doors, then stood up and looked at the mess of glass on the floor. The broom and dust pan were in the pantry. He’d better clean that up first. If Tommy woke up and came downstairs for something to drink he could cut himself. That would freak Gunner out even more.

  * * * *

  Darla sat up on the edge of the bed and waited for the spinning to stop. She wasn’t sure what time it was, but light seeped in around the edges of the closed drapes. It took her a few seconds to remember where she was and how she’d gotten there.

  Gunner. He and Scope brought me here.

  “Tommy!” She needed to check on him and be sure he was okay.

  When she started to stand up, nausea hit her in waves. She quickly sat back down and dropped her head to her knees, hating how weak she felt. Even now her throbbing hand had her near tears.

  “Darla! What are you doing trying to get out of bed?” Scope’s voice ripped through the roaring in her ears. Then he was kneeling next to her. “Darla?”

  She turned her head but didn’t lift it from her knees. “Sick.”

  “Okay. Just hold on and I’ll get you to the bathroom. It’s probably from the pain medicine they gave you at the hospital.” Scope picked her up and cradled her against his chest.

  When he sat her on the cool tile floor next to the toilet she relaxed some. Then a cold wet cloth bathed her face before Scope settled it against the back of her neck.

  “I hope this isn’t because of the bump on your head. You’ve been fine up until now. Does your head hurt?” he asked.

  She started to shake her head no, but it made the nausea worse. “No. It’s sore but it doesn’t hurt. I’m just so dizzy and nauseous.”

  “Okay. Hold on and I’ll be right back.” The second he was gone she felt the emptiness where he’d been. Then he was there again, gently urging her to sip something.

  “I don’t think I can keep anything down, Scope.”

  “Just a few sips, sweetness. It will help ease the nausea. I promise.”

  Darla panted a few times then sipped at the slightly salty liquid. Then she sipped again and Scope moved it away from her. She leaned her head back against his shoulder with her eyes closed and tried to concentrate on the feel of his warmth and the scent of his skin. After a few more seconds, the nausea improved enough that she thought she would be okay.

  “I think I’m better now,” she said in a shaky voice.

  “Let’s get you back in bed then,” Scope told her.

  “Um. Can I use the bathroom first?” she asked, completely mortified she was having to say anything at all.

  “Sure. Let’s get you up. Watch that hand, Darla. Put it on my shoulder and I’ll pull down the scrubs they put on you.”

  “No!” she all but yelled. “I can do it. Just help me up and you can go.”

  “Darla, I don’t think you’re strong enough. I’m not going to look at you if you’re worried about that,�
� he said. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “Please. Chester. I don’t want you in here.” She couldn’t even look at him now. She was sure her face was every possible shade of red there was.

  She heard him sigh, then he was helping her stand. Relief that he was listening to her almost had her giggling uncontrollably. That would go a long way in convincing him she could handle herself.

  “Here. Put your hand on the wall and steady yourself. Are you sure you don’t want me to help?” he asked. She couldn’t miss the worry in his voice.

  “I’m sure. I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay. Call me when you’re ready to get back in bed, Darla. I mean it. I don’t want you walking around without one of us until we’re sure you’re steady enough.”

  “Okay. I promise.” She waited until he’d walked out of the massive bathroom and a soft click told her he’d closed the door.

  Darla had no doubt he was standing there right next to the door, listening for any sign she might be in trouble. If she didn’t finish fast, he’d be coming back in to check on her. That was all it took to have her take care of business and lean against the counter to wash her hands.

  “I’m finished, Scope.”

  The door opened before she’d even finished saying his name. He quickly picked her up again and carried her back to the bed. She looked around for the first time and realized it was a huge bedroom. It had to be the master suite. The bathroom had been just as nice. Who slept there? Scope or Gunner?

  “Where’s Tommy? Is he okay?” she asked the second her brain reminded her of why she’d been trying to get up in the first place.

  “He’s fine. We fed him breakfast, then Gunner took him back to your place to pack some clothes for you both for a few days.” Scope watched her closely, making her wonder why he seemed so interested in her reaction.

  “Oh. Okay. We’re staying here with you for a few days? I need to get back to work soon. Did the doctor say when I can go back?” she asked. She was sure she remembered him telling her.