Beyond Her Words (Corrupt Chaos MC)

by Bink Cummings

  For him? God, why does he have to play that card? I know it’s bull-crap, he’s full of it, and he’s just trying to work around my stubbornness. But the way his soft voice is speaking makes my insides turn to mush. I’d lick his teeth if he asked me.

  I need to get a grip.

  Sighing with defeat, I blink twice and he leans in to press a tiny kiss on my nose. I feel it travel all the way to my toes, sprouting goosebumps along the way.

  “Thank ye.” He brushes a faint kiss upon my forehead before he rolls onto his back and gets up.

  Scooping me off the floor with ease, my body protests, but I bite my tongue to keep from showing real pain. I don’t want him to call an ambulance or think I’m that hurt. My wheelchair’s resting nearby like it hadn’t just been used to try and almost kill me. He sets me in it, before walking over to his vest lying on the floor. He extracts his phone from the inside pocket. Dialing, he exits the kitchen and goes to the bathroom.

  Moments later, he returns with a first aid kit and washcloth. “Ye’re almost home?” he asks to whom I assume is Bridget on the other line. Either that or Meredith. I tense at the thought, acid boiling in my gut. I hope I never have to see her again.

  Finishing the call, he sets his phone on the kitchen counter before striding over and kneeling at my feet. Looking up at me, he runs his palms over my exposed thighs. The touch shoots straight to places it shouldn’t. “I didnae tell Pip what happened, but she’s gonna go with me tae take ye tae the hospital when she gets here. She’s aboot five minutes away. Will ye allow me tae clean ye up before she sees ye?”

  I blink twice. Of course I’d let him do that, even if I hate the idea of his hands touching me because of how they make me feel. But, I don’t want Bridget to see me like this. I know it’s not a pretty sight. My lip is swollen and my eyes have to be red from crying.

  Lachlan works fast, cleansing my face, the cut on my lip, and my forehead gash. Then, he wipes the rest of the dried blood off my neck and hair. Trying to wipe the blood off my casts doesn’t seem to work. They’re stained, so he gives up.

  Opening a Band-Aid out of the kit, he carefully places it on my forehead. “Ye’re gonna need a few stitches. Dinnae wanna scare Pip.”

  I nod my agreement. She’s going to be broken-up enough whenever she finds out that her mother did this to me. Lessening the blow seems like the best choice. Lachlan seems oblivious, too. Though, he’s not seen under my clothes, to which I’m grateful for. I’m sure there are plenty of bruises to tell a much more graphic tale of how Meredith MacAlister unleashed an entire can of hatred on a woman who couldn’t defend herself. I can’t imagine what anyone will think. Maybe I shouldn’t tell them? Do you think the doctor will be able to tell the difference? I could protect Bridget and Lachlan from having to deal with the aftermath of Meredith’s treachery. It’s the least I could do, considering the circumstances. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t come here in the first place.

  A lance of guilt punctures my heart. See, I knew this was my fault.

  The sound of tires crunch down the incline outside as Lachlan finishes his last swipe on my neck and throws the contents of the first aid kit and towel down the hall. “Time tae go.” He pats the top of my pounding head, and grabs the handles of my wheelchair. He wheels me to the door just as Bridget is coming onto the patio, seeing us through the glass.

  The outside porch light illuminates her stricken features. “What the?” she comments, her mouth falling open. Maybe I look worse than I thought. Breaking out of her momentary daze, she glides open the door and backs away, allowing her dad to wheel me to the SUV. No words are exchanged. The sounds of crickets chirping fill the pregnant silence.

  Unlatching the door, Lachlan yanks it wide before lifting me and gently sitting me on the passenger side bucket seat. Leaning into the cab, he softly pecks my cheek before shutting the door. I’m stunned by his sweetness and cup my cheek where his lips seared my flesh. Did I just imagine that?

  Through the window, I watch Lachlan saunter back into the house while talking to Bridget. Moments later, he returns wearing a fresh shirt and his vest, and in his hand, he clutches my cell phone.

  A shaky Bridget climbs into the backseat with me as Lachlan slides behind the wheel and starts the engine. More silence hangs in the air as we pull away from the house and head to the hospital.

  On the drive, I make up my mind. I’m not telling anyone what happened. Bridget can’t stop fidgeting in her chair, playing with her hands. And Lachlan’s lowly growling under his breath, filling the air with palpable tension. This isn’t their fault; this is mine, and I’m gonna suffer in silence. Thank you for keeping my secret.

  “No! No! Brian, wake up! Wake up, Brian!” I scream bloody murder, shaking his lifeless shoulders. His blond head lulls to the side, eyes closed, chest still. “Brian!” I wail a sob. “Brian!” Curling into a ball, I lie my head on his toned chest as tears fall from my eyes. My fist clutches into his white t-shirt. “Brian,” I whimper, praying to hear any sign of life rattling in his cold body.

  I can’t breathe!

  Clawing at my throat for air, I wake up with a start. Eyes flying open, I force a deep inhale as tears mat my eyes and I wipe them away. Lurching my head over the side of the bed, my insides twist. With a choked gag, I purge the contents of my stomach all over the hospital floor.

  Uh! I hate that.

  Leaning back into the mattress, I press the nurse call button. I can’t believe I dreamed about Brian again. It’s been years since I had to relive that nightmare. The first two years after it happened, I dreamt of it nightly. A trashcan sat next to my bed for me to puke into as it never failed to happen. Afterward, I would brush my teeth, wipe my eyes, rinse the trashcan out, and fall back to sleep for a few more hours. Men were not allowed to stay over because of that; not that I wanted them to, anyhow.

  Finally, I broke down and saw a doctor. They put me on a low dose of anti-depressants, which helped some. They curbed the sadness, and the puking turned into a weekly occurrence more than a nightly. Five years after his death, I was officially off the anti-depressants and sleeping easy. I could finally share my bed with a man if I wanted; though I rarely did. The idea of sharing my space with a person I could never feel anything but lust for was out of the question. Love—now that’s something they speak about in fairytales. I thought I had it once—well, I know I did. But that was so long ago, I forget what it even feels like.

  Combing my fingers through my disastrous hair, I sigh heavily at the fact that I’m stuck here again; under twenty-four-hour observation to make sure I didn’t suffer further injury. My brain is fine, and all I have is bruised ribs and a sore back; there is no internal bleeding. They glued my busted lip closed and put in eight stitches on my upper forehead, partially hidden in my hairline. My casts on my forearms weren’t salvageable so a doctor cut them off a few days early and put me in braces instead. My leg is fine, though they figured I’d have a bruised hip for a few weeks. I guessed as much.

  After the doctor had asked me a series of questions about what had happened, most of which I refused to answer—unless it was the absurd ones where he asked if Lachlan had abused me. I set that one straight. Then, I fell asleep. Good painkillers and too much crying will do that to ya.

  A soft knock raps at the door and the nurse enters. Banishing an ashamed sigh, I point to the floor.

  Smiling sadly, she asks, “Are you okay? I’ll get that cleaned up. . .But is there anything I can get you? Are you comfortable?” Using a device clipped to her scrubs, she calls for someone to clean up the mess.

  I nod to answer her question, and the phone that she brought me hours ago vibrates for the umpteen time on the table next to my bed. My body was x-rayed, CAT scanned, and my blood drawn all in the ER before they moved me to a room. In the ER, I requested that Lachlan and anyone else please be kept out. I wasn’t sure what my body looked like, and I didn’t want him seeing it. To be honest, seeing him just makes the guilt worse. It’s
easier this way, because, like I’d predicted, my bruising is pretty significant. New ones are sprouting up every time I look, or the ones I already have seem to grow. They’re ugly and dark, and not anything I want anyone but the doctors and nurses to see.

  Lachlan doesn’t deserve to be burdened with this, too. I can handle it on my own. No sense in making things worse for them. In two weeks, my leg cast will be removed and I can leave. Somehow, I will do it. I can’t bear to put anyone through more of my problems.

  I’m pacin’ the waitin’ room, my hands fisted at my sides as my jaw grinds, tryin’ not tae go on a bloody rampage. It’s been fuckin’ hours since I’ve seen her. The nurses said I wasn’t allowed in the ER room with her. They said that they needed space. They’re full of bloody shit, is what they are. Somethin’s not right, I tell ye. I can feel it. My heart won’t stop poundin’ outta my fuckin’ chest. I’m sweatin’ like a damn pig.

  Tae make matters worse, everybody’s here. My entire family. Pip called Whisky, and her stubborn arse called everyone else. Now, the waitin’ room is full of a bunch of sobberin’-up bikers and their lady folk.

  The first time I was told I wasn’t allowed tae see Mags, Sniper had tae take my dagger from me before I used it on the nurse. I’m tryin’ not tae make a scene; that’s the last thing Mags needs right now. If she’d answer my fuckin’ texts, or let me bloody fuckin’ see her, then I’d be okay. I could actually breathe.

  Argh! Why won’t she see me?

  I knew when I walked into the house tonight that somethin’ wasn’t right; I could sense it. Just like I could sense it before I left my sister’s. Aye, I was right. As she laid there, motionless, on the floor and tearin’ my bloody heart out with her silent tears. My instinct was tae ask her what happened, tae pry it from her and take the burden away. But her wee body tremblin’ on the floor, and Pirate’s frightened eyes, told me not tae push. It killed me not tae. So I wiped away her tears and laid down beside her tae give her comfort. When what I really wanted tae do was─na, I dinnae need tae think aboot that right now. It’s not the time.

  Pip comes up behind me and cuffs her hand over my shoulder. “Whisky just talked to a nurse she’s friends with. She said that Magdalene just woke up. Maybe you should try to text her again.” She rubs my shoulder once and lets go, leavin’ me tae pace.

  “What’s the update?” Thor intrudes, talkin’ tae Pip.

  I spin on my boot heel tae face him. Aye, the bloody bastard showed up, too. Whisky said she and Sniper’d keep the fucker away from me, and that I should let him stay tae support Mags since they’re friends. I dinnae care what they are. He needs tae go home. She dinnae want him here. If she did, she’d have told him. And I dinnae care if she wants me here or not; I’m not givin' her a choice. She’s mine tae care for, whether any of these bastards agree or not. I’d like tae see ‘em try tae come between me and my leannan.

  “All the nurse said was that she just woke up,” Pip explains tae the waitin’ room, not lookin’ at Thor.

  Aye, that’s my lass. She dinnae like the bastard either.

  “Are you sure that’s all? Did they say what happened?” Thor’s diggin’. I get it, he cares. I just dinnae care that he cares.

  “No. Nobody knows what happened, and the doctor won’t tell us either,” Pip clarifies, calmly standin’ in the middle of the room.

  “Neither of you asked her?” He won’t shut the bloody hell up, as he runs a hand through his pretty blond hair, sittin’ on a chair next tae Muff.

  “Dad said she didn’t want to explain, and she can’t talk yet.”

  Thor’s eyes lift tae me, and he glares, jaw tickin’. “You’re tellin’ me that you brought her here and nobody knew what happened?”

  Tuckin’ my arms across my chest, I stiffly nod once. “Aye.”

  “That’s a load of bullshit, brother! You talk like you wanna take care of her, and you can’t find out how the hell this happened?!”

  See, this may piss me off, but at the same time, it’s showin’ me what I already knew; Thor needs tae grow the bloody hell up. Do I think Mags just fell outta her chair? Fuck na, I dinnae. Is that gonna change what happened tae her? Na. Is pushin’ her tae talk gonna change anythin’? Na, except make her close down. She’s not an open person. She has demons. It goes beyond any of her words and into her eyes. They’re not the eyes of a woman her age who’s lived a happy life. They’re the eyes of a lass who’s seen things and been through things that still haunt her. Those kinda lassies ye dinnae push. Like a flower, ye let them open on their own time. Wee lads like Thor could never understand that, because he’s never been through a bloody thing in his life. He served in the Army reserves and got out. Didnae do shit. Thor has never held a dyin’ baby in his arms, or watched a woman burn tae death in a car, screamin’ for ye tae help her. He dunno what demons are like cause he’s clueless aboot life and he’s bloody fuckin’ stupid.

  “Are you gonna fuckin’ answer me?!” Thor demands.

  Liftin’ my hand tae scratch my chin, I shake my head at him in pity. Pity for bein’ such an arsehole, and he dinnae even know it. “Ye think forcin’ a lassie who’s bleedin’ and cryin’ on a cold tile floor, scared outta her bloody fuckin’ mind, is when I should be interrogatin’ her?” I speak slowly, lettin’ it sink in.

  Thor rears back like my words slapped him, and some of the women folk gasp. Aye, it wasn’t a pretty thing tae see; even more so when ye care aboot the person.

  A nurse pokes her head into the waitin’ room. “Could you please stop yelling in here? You’re disturbing the patients,” she snaps.

  I turn tae her. “Can ye please ask Magdalene Murdock if she’ll permit Lachlan MacAlister tae see her?”

  “Can, what? Who?”

  Bloody hell, why cannae people understand me?

  “Can ye—”

  Pip cuts me off. “My dad wants to know if he can see Magdalene Murdock. He wants you to ask her if she’ll let him in her room.”

  The nurse switches her eyes between Pip and I, then she sweeps the room. Her eyes widen. “She. . .um. . .Magdalene. . .she doesn’t want to. . .be. . .”

  I take a step in her direction, and she retreats a step backward, givin’ me a wide berth. Her eyes lift tae mine. “Sir. . .please. . .”

  “Ask my lassie tae see me,” I demand, takin’ another step forward.

  The nurse visibly gulps. “I can’t. . .she doesn’t. . .um. . .”

  “Ye ask her.”

  Fearfully, she bobs her head as her face turns white as a ghost.

  I nod. “Thank ye.”

  “Um. . .” She doesn’t finish her sentence when she whips around and darts down the hall.

  If she knows what’s good for her, she’ll ask Mags. If not, looks like the nurse and I will be havin’ some words.

  An abrupt knock pounds on my door before it swings wide and a nurse scurries in like she’s running from someone or something. If I had to guess, I know what. The yelling a few minutes ago gave it away.

  She stops at the end of my bed, smiling nervously. “Um. . .Magdalene, I was asked to see if you would permit a Mr. Lachlan MacAlister into your room. He. . .um. . .he. . .really wants to speak with you. The. . .um. . .room. . .I mean. . .the waiting room is filled with men wearing. . .um. . .lots of leather. . .and they have lots of tattoos. They were yelling. I. . .um. . .told them to be quiet.” Her voice drops to a whisper, and her eyes widen to saucers. “You don’t think they’ll hurt me for telling them that, do you?” Her breathing is erratic, and her face is as white as a sheet; she’s dead serious. It’s kind of funny, but then again, it’s not. I know how scary Lachlan is without trying; imagine him when he is trying. I’d probably pee myself.

  To lighten the burden on her, I shake my head. Her face falls.

  “You won’t see him?!”

  Crap! That’s not what I meant. I don’t really want to see him, but I feel terrible. She’s obviously in a bind. He’s scared her, too. That seems to be a common occurrence with him an
d his thighs-for-arms.

  I wave her forward, grab my phone from the stand, and type out a message for her to read.

  They aren’t going to hurt you. They’re not like that. And I don’t want to see him. But if he’s not going to leave, and is causing trouble, send him in. I’ll handle it.

  Reading my message, she blows a relieved breath. “Thank you. He seems really concerned. Maybe if he comes in here, he can make the others leave, so my job won’t consist of patients complaining about the noise.”

  I nod, my lips tight, and she thanks me again as she leaves. Less than a minute later, heavy footfalls echo near my room and there’s a loud rap on the door just before Lachlan enters. He doesn’t say hello as he wades into my room and makes himself right at home on the edge of my bed. His eyes go directly to my arms, which are no longer casted. He lifts his chin, gesturing to them. “They took ‘em off?”

  I bob my head.

  “Are ye okay?”

  Keeping my face blank, I lift my right shoulder in a tiny shrug.

  His expression tells me he’s not convinced. “Are ye ready tae tell me what actually happened?”

  Mags shakes her head as her face casts down, checkin’ the invisible dirt under her nails. I asked a simple question; one that isn’t so simple, as she obviously dinnae wanna talk tae me aboot it.

  I reach out tae rest my hand on her uncasted leg, over the white hospital blanket, causin’ her body to tremor under my fingers. Leisurely, I brush them up and down her calf. She squirms more as wee puffs of air burst from her swollen lips. My cock twitches on its own accord. Bloody hell. Why does this always happen when I touch her? I cannae control it.

  My fingers travel tae her knee, and a shudder rolls through her. My cock jerks again, chubbin’. “I need ye tae tell me what happened tae ye,” I whisper slowly.

  Mags shakes her head again. Her fingers better be clean with how much she’s pickin’ at ‘em.