Blood of Cupids

by Sophia Kenzie

  The head of the group had deep blonde hair and a thick red speckled beard. He wore a dark gray thermal against his black jeans, and proudly donned his cut over his very apparent chest muscles. I couldn’t help but stare as he swiftly moved in my direction. The leather was old, worn. His patches were faded, but I knew who he was. The hospital must have called him. Standing before me, with his “president” patch, was Patrick Brennan.

  But they weren’t there for me. They were there for Grace. The group stormed past me, not even realizing I had taken up space in their hallway. I couldn’t leave now. Even if I had my doubts about her, I couldn’t leave Grace alone with that maniac.

  I slowly followed behind, making sure not to seem as though I was spying. A nurse walked up to the three, asking if she could help.

  “Where’s my daughter?” His tone was rough; the nurse was obviously frightened.

  “I’m sorry sir, who are you looking for?” She calmly questioned him.

  “Grace. Grace Brennan. Someone called me and said she was here?”

  “Oh, yes sir. Luckily she was only shot with a small caliber pistol, and it didn’t hit an artery. We’re just stitching her up now. Though, there was a substantial amount of blood loss, and she does have a grade three concussion, so we want to keep her here for a little while to monitor. I actually came out to tell the young man who brought her in…Have you seen him?”

  Shit. I did not need Patrick “Bowie” Brennan knowing that I brought his daughter to the hospital. I flipped up my hood and turned around, hoping she wouldn’t see me.

  “Who brought her in?”

  “I don’t know his name. I assumed it was her boyfriend?”

  “She doesn’t have a boyfriend. Who the hell brought her in, lady?”

  “I’m sorry, I really don’t know. And I guess he left, so—”

  He stepped closer to her, pushing her up against the wall. The poor nurse. None of this was her fault.

  “Maybe you need to be better at your job. Now you’re going to take me to my daughter, and then you’re going to find her mystery man.”

  “I can’t take you in until the doctor is finished with her.”

  “You’ll take me in now, or so help me, tomorrow this hospital will have one less pretty little nurse.”

  “O-Okay.” She stammered, but then led them down the hallway and into a small room.

  I needed to get closer. I felt a strong desire to both protect Grace from her giant of a father, and to find out if she had anything to do with the explosion. I still trusted her, but I needed the confirmation. I needed to prove to my family that she had nothing to do with it.

  I slowly stepped closer to her room and peeked through the slightly open blinds. Grace was in the hospital bed. Her head and arm were both bandaged, and her eyes were vacant. The corners of her lips slid down and her empty eyes filled with water as her father approached. He fell to his knees and grabbed her hand in his.

  “I’m so sorry, Grace.” I heard him mumble.

  He was sorry? Maybe he did know she was at my match. Maybe it was a set up.

  “It wasn’t your fault. I did this.” She softly whispered.

  Pops was right. Grace had betrayed me.

  Grace

  The door opened, and I ached for Ryan to step through. I wanted to explain to him that I had nothing to do with the explosion, that I had only come down to make sure he was safe.

  But it wasn’t Ryan; it was my father. My eyes instantly filled with tears. I forgot he would find out about this, that I wouldn’t be able to keep my wrongdoings from him. I desperately feared his reaction, terrified that he would force me to leave school, force me to work at his club so that he could keep a constant eye over me.

  His face melted from worried to a stagnant calm as our eyes met. A small, forced smile hinted at his cheeks as he dropped to his knees, taking my hand in his. I must have looked pretty beat up.

  “I’m so sorry, Grace.”

  He should have been sorry for what he did to the other club, but this was all my doing. I’d found my way to The Blood of Cupids MC. I’d made the stupid decision to watch Ryan’s match and then flee at the slightest touch of fear, even though I knew there were armed guards awaiting an attack. The fact that I was lying in a hospital bed with a hole in my arm was not his fault. It was all mine.

  “It wasn’t your fault. I did this.” I said sheepishly.

  There was a crash against the window and the blinds shook. Through the swinging shades I found a pair of piercing green eyes. Then they were gone. But I knew those eyes; I had been pierced by their stare before. Ryan was there, and Ryan must have been angry.

  “What the fuck was that?” My father quickly rose to his feet.

  His two wingmen offered to check it out, but I begged them to stay.

  “I want to be with you guys, my family, right now.”

  They were touched. They knew they were like brothers to me, but I had become distant the past few weeks. I guess it’s always nice to be reminded that you’re appreciated, and their matching dimples proved that fact. Unfortunately, it was a bold-faced lie. While I could easily play the card that their presence was comforting to me, truthfully, I just didn’t want them to find Ryan.

  The nurse went after him instead.

  “Who’s this man who brought you in?”

  “I really don’t know.” With my exhaustion, I knew my cheeks wouldn’t blush. At least he’d have a hard time seeing through my lies.

  “Was he one of them?” He stressed the word ‘them’. I knew he was trying to keep business hidden on account of the doctor hovering over our every word, but to an outsider, it must have seemed like a bad TV show.

  “Dad, I really don’t know. I hit my head on a rock, or something, and passed out. I woke up in the hospital.”

  “Why were you there?”

  “You wouldn’t tell me what was going on. I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

  He shook his head at my reasoning. “That’s not your job.”

  “Then whose is it?”

  The doctor interrupted, clearly begging for an excuse to get out of the room and away from our antics. “I’m sorry, I think this conversation might be a tad too stressful, and you need some rest. We’re going to keep you here for a little while longer to monitor you, but you’re fine to sleep. Let me know if your headache worsens, or you have any double vision, you’re dizzy, feeling numbness anywhere, or if your speech starts to slur.”

  “That’s a lot to remember.”

  “Just close your eyes.” He smiled down at me and left the room.

  My father surrendered, kissed my bandaged forehead, and found his way to the corner chair. As the doctor ordered, I closed my eyes. I was so tired.

  I awoke what seemed like only seconds later to whispered screams outside my door. The doctor had reappeared, tinkering with the machines surrounding me.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Your father and his friends are speaking to the police.”

  “The police? What? Why?”

  “Grace, I have to report any and all gunshot wounds.”

  I had completely forgot about that rule. I really wanted to know what was happening, but the whispers were unclear through the closed door. There was no way my father would implicate The Blood of Cupids. He would want to settle this between the clubs. Police involvement was not going to be good for either family.

  The door swung open. “Good, you’re awake. Doc, I think we’re ready to go.”

  “Okay, I’ll have the discharge paperwork and a prescription for antibiotics and pain medication at reception in just a few minutes. We have a hospital retail pharmacy for your convenience. You can also make a follow up appointment. Until then, I want you to keep this sling on. It’ll help with the circulation in your arm. And Grace, make sure you come back here if you have any of those symptoms we talked about earlier.”

  “I will. Thanks.” He did remember that I wacked my brain against my skull, right? Why was he
trying to give me so many instructions?

  The doctor suspiciously eyed my three guards, rubbed his lips together, and sped out of the room. He must have had some interesting thoughts about us. At least my dad didn’t threaten him…while I was awake, at least.

  “Let’s go grab some of your things and head home.”

  “What things?”

  “From your apartment.”

  I knew he was going to do this. “No, Dad. I have class. I’m not coming back home, I’m staying here.”

  “Don’t start with me Grace. I’m your father; you do as I say.”

  I wanted to stick my tongue out at him. If he wanted to treat me as if I was five, I would give it right back to him. Without a word, I grabbed my blood-spattered clothes off the side table and stormed into the bathroom. There was no way I was going back. I didn’t care what he said.

  * * *

  Had we been a normal family, we would’ve fought the entire way to my apartment, screaming at each other over the center console of the car. But my family drives motorcycles, so I hopped in a cab. It was nice to have a break, to clear my mind before the arguments began again.

  They were standing outside as I pulled up. I calmly stepped out onto the sidewalk and smiled.

  “I’m going upstairs, and I’m going to stay upstairs.”

  “Grace Brennan, you do as I say, or else.”

  “Or else what, Dad? What can you do to me? I’m twenty-three years old. I’m trying to make my own way in life. I can’t just run back to you for protection every time something goes wrong.”

  “You were fucking shot, Grace. By them. Do you think they’re going to stop?”

  “It was a misunderstanding.”

  “A what? You don’t shoot someone over a misunderstanding, Grace. You shoot to kill. They know who you are now. You can’t stay in Philly.”

  “And you think I’m safer in Alexandria? You blew up their clubhouse. There’s going to be a retaliation, and it will most likely not be at my tiny Philadelphia apartment that no one knows about.”

  The bickering came to a halt with my closing argument. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, knowing I had won, yet again.

  “Fine, but I’m sending someone to look after you.”

  “Please Dad, I don’t want another prospect hanging around.”

  “This I’m not budging on, Grace.”

  He stepped closer and kissed my still bandaged forehead. I had forgotten how ridiculous I must have looked standing on the curb; my clothes drenched in my own dried blood, having a screaming match with a man twice my size. Had anyone walked past and stared, I wouldn’t have noticed. My sights were set on my goal of independence, and that was it.

  I threw my un-slung arm around him and squeezed.

  “I love you Dad.”

  “I love you too, Gracie. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

  My face squinted, and I felt the tears warm my eyes. I waved goodbye to the guys and ran upstairs, pushing too easily through my door. Had it been any other day, I would’ve noticed that it was unlocked. Then I may not have been frozen in shock when I saw the inside of my apartment.

  The couch cushions were strewn about, books were tossed across the floor, the desk drawers were overturned and searched, and Ryan was standing in front of me, his arms folded over his pumped chest.

  I sunk to my knees.

  When would this day end?

  Ryan

  “Can we please not do this now?” She sighed, clearly exhausted.

  To think she had the nerve to request that of me? I shook my head in disgust. “Get yourself cleaned up. I’ll be right out here.”

  I was trying to be stern, trying to show her how angry I was, but I desperately wanted to hold her. The poor thing looked absolutely pathetic. She had a giant bandage across the left side of her forehead, a dark blue sling holding up her left arm, and her button up shirt was blood-soaked and ruined. Her skirt, the same skirt she’d worn during our make-out session just downstairs, was luckily dark enough to hide any of the night’s disasters. That was good. I really liked that skirt; I wanted to see that skirt on her again.

  “Here, let me help you.” I wasn’t cruel, and I honestly didn’t know if she was capable of standing up on her own. I knelt down to her level and my hand grazed her knee in the process. A sensation breezed through me, and a part of me fought the desire to push her to the floor and have my way with her, even in her broken state. But the other part of me wanted to cry. Had she never met me, had I never forced myself on her, she would’ve been safe from all of this.

  “Thank you.” She cried, while wrapping her good arm around my shoulder. I stood, carrying all her weight with me. My hand splayed across her back and instinctually brought her closer. She buried her face into my chest and suddenly wept. My eyes closed, and my head bowed in reply.

  “Are you okay?” I whispered. It was a stupid question. Of course she wasn’t okay, but I didn’t know what else to say. What are you supposed to say to someone who had a night such as she just had?

  “Yes.” she choked out, but her sobs turned to laughter at the ridiculousness of it all. “No. No, I’m not okay. And I feel so dirty.”

  “Do you want to take a shower?” Where was I coming up with these questions?

  Her shoulders bounced. I had no idea if it was laughter or cries. “I don’t think I can. This thing fucking hurts.”

  That caused me to laugh. She really was pathetic, but I was just as so, for my only want was to take care of her. Right now she didn’t seem vindictive. She didn’t have an agenda, and she wasn’t a Brennan. She was my Grace, and she was hurt.

  I pulled away, looking into her begging blue eyes. “Do you want me to help you?”

  She stared at me, not sure how to respond. “You’d do that? But you’re so mad at me.”

  It took every inch of sanity not to lash out at her, but I was oddly calm with my follow-up. “How about for tonight, we’re two rational, boring people who just happened to meet at a bar a week ago, and we hit it off?”

  “Okay. I’d really like that, but you should know—”

  I cut her off. “No. Grace, I don’t want to know anything right now.”

  It was silly, childish even, but for a few moments, I wanted to pretend that what we had was real. I wanted my dreams of meeting someone who knew nothing at all about the club life to be a tangible possibility. At least for a short time, that’s exactly what I had. It was amazing.

  “Are you okay to walk, or do you want me to carry you?”

  “I’m not an invalid.” She shot back at me.

  “Eh…” I teased, looking her up and down.

  “I still have one good arm to punch you with.”

  We both laughed, and I scooped her up anyway, careful to stay away from her wounded arm. I stepped into the bathroom and sat her down on the edge of the tub. I slowly maneuvered her arm in a way that would make it easier to remove her sling. She winced, but assured me that she was okay. I moved my hands up to her blood red collar, realizing that I was about to undress her. I felt my heart begin to race as I painstakingly released the top button.

  My hands were sweating. Why was I so attracted to her? Why was this so difficult?

  “Ryan, are you okay?”

  “Well, I’m about to undress a woman I don’t plan on sleeping with. How do you think I feel?”

  “You know, things don’t always go according to plan.”

  Was she teasing me? What the hell?

  “Oh, really?”

  “But seriously, if this is too much for you…”

  “No, Grace, I’m fine.”

  I continued with her buttons, revealing her nakedness beneath. She must have decided to forgo a bra given her discomfort, but it took me a second to recover from the shock of her bare breasts before me.

  I looked away, turning on the water to test the temperature.

  “Bath?”

  “I think so. If I get the bandages wet, I have to redress t
hem. Gross.”

  She stood, and I finished peeling her clothes from her bruised body. I lightly ran my fingers along the blotched skin atop her ribs.

  “Grace.”

  “I’m really okay. I’m pale, so I bruise easily.”

  “You’re not okay. You have a bullet hole in your arm.”

  Her nostrils flared, and she looked at the ceiling, presumably demanding her tears to retract.

  “Yeah, I guess it’s been a big day for me.” She joked, but there was more there, hiding behind her mask.

  “Here you are.” I offered my arm, guiding her into the warm water. She sat, curling her legs into her chest and staring up at me.

  “Are you hiding from me? You know I’ve seen all this, right? You can cover as much as you want, but my memory is solid.”

  Her smile grew, and her eyes melted my insides. She was so beautiful. How was she Patrick Brennan’s daughter?

  I grabbed the giant sponge from its perch and lathered it with soap. It was coconut, and it was intoxicating. If I were to never see her again following this rendezvous, maybe I would steal her body wash.

  It was probably the most intimate thing I had ever done, washing another person. You don’t spend much time truly appreciating the human form when you’re consumed by lust. This was so different. Of course I wanted her, I wanted all of her, but there was something else. It was a connection I hadn’t felt before. I now know the shape of her body better than I know my own. Each push, each pull of the sponge taught me something new. And I was cautious, learning her pain. We said nothing to each other, at least with words. When it was over, I felt a pang of disappointment. I took care in drying her off with her towel and wrapping her in its warmth.

  She stepped out of the tub, drying her feet on the mat.

  “I’m going to throw on some clothes, and then we’ll talk.”

  “Don’t. Stay like this.” I pleaded. I didn’t want this to end.

  “Ryan,” she raised her able hand to my face, “we’re about to have probably the most difficult conversation I could ever imagine. Please let me put on some clothes so I can put a shred of armor over my vulnerability.”