by Love, Amy
"Chelsea?" he asked gently.
"He just shot her, you know. She wasn't doing it right. He made me finish him off. I do it right. I felt the splatter on me, but I didn't think it was so bad until I looked in the mirror," she told him. Then she added, "Sorry about the smell. I can't seem to get my hair clean. I should get my things now."
"I want you to stay Chelsea," he told her softly.
"Alright, I'll be in the bedroom when you need me."
"No, baby, I want you to stay here."
She shook her head slowly. "I can't get the smell out of my hair."
Elias spent enough time in Afghanistan to know the signs of PTSD when they were as obvious as this. "Just stay here for a little longer, then you can go, alright? I'll help you get your hair clean."
She nodded, her voice distant. "He just shot her. Just shot her."
Elias reached over and picked up his cell phone and thumbed up Doc's number. After two rings Doc picked up. "Doc? I need you. It's Chelsea. She's having a break down. PTSD. Can you come?"
"On my way. John will give me a ride," she told him without hesitation.
"Good. You better bring Larry, too. He'll probably need to know about this."
"Will do," Doc said, and hung up.
"She wasn't doing it right, so he shot her," Chelsea said. "You have to use your tongue or it’s not right. I should go now."
"No baby, you should stay with me just a little longer. Hang in there for me Chelsea, I'm here. I'll take care of you."
"Do you need a blowjob?"
"Not right now."
"Alright. I can't get the smell out of my hair."
She cycled through the same thoughts over and over, about her hair, someone getting shot, asking if he needed a blowjob, and then would come back around to telling him she should go to her room now. He was near tears from frustration by the time Doc, John, and Larry came into the room. She didn't seem to realize they were there. Her eyes were dead, unfocused, and her voice a wavering monotone.
Doc came to the bed, telling the men to wait out in the living room. She had a bag with her. She took Chelsea's pulse, felt her head, and then with a small flashlight checked her pupil response. "How long has she been like this?"
"About fifteen minutes before I called you, she fell into this state." Elias reported.
"Good; I'm glad you called so quickly. She's got it bad. I'm going to have to give her something to get her to sleep."
"I should go to my room now," Chelsea said to her. "I can sleep in there. I'm fine. Do you need something?"
"No Chelsea, I'm fine," Doc told her.
"I can do women you know. It's okay," Chelsea assured her.
"I'm fine, Chelsea," she said, as she fixed up a needle. "What brought this on, Elias?"
"She was telling me about her life with Tomas. God, Mary, she's been through some serious hell," Elias told her.
"We'll talk out in the living room, then. Let's get her some sleep. Physically, she's alright. I'll stay here tonight. If she wakes up like this, we'll have to admit her to the hospital," Doc told him, and then added, "You know, she is far enough gone that she may not come out of this soon. Could be several weeks. I believe you when you say she's been through hell."
"I can't get the smell out of my hair," Chelsea said, running her fingers through the strands.
"It's alright, darling. I'm going to give you a shot now, and then we're going to put you to bed. Just get some sleep. We'll take care of you."
"Do you need a blowjob?"
Doc put the needle in, and plunged. Chelsea's eyes flickered for a moment, and then her body went slack.
"I can't get the smell…" she said in a tired voice, and then she was out.
Elias eased himself out of bed and laid her down, covering her with blankets. Doc watched, checked Chelsea's pulse, and then followed him out of the room.
In the living room Larry was pacing, and John was sipping on a beer. The big man looked worried. Both of them turned as Elias and Doc joined them.
"How is she?" Larry asked.
"Not good. Definitely a PTSD meltdown." She turned to Elias. "Get yourself comfortable, big guy. You have a story to tell."
Elias nodded, and then walked to the kitchen and got a fresh beer. After some thought, he poured himself a double whiskey and downed that before he came back to the living room.
Elias told them Chelsea's story. The three of his guests listened, with varying degrees of awe, horror, and rage in their eyes.
"I think, when she told me that she had no doubt that Tomas would kill her, that what really happened was that he killed another girl right in front of her."
"That would convince me," John sighed. "Holy shit."
"Tomas is on suspension right now." Larry told Elias. "The hearing for his visit to us will be on Tuesday. I really wish we had her story on tape. I could put that fucker in jail for sure, and have him off the force so fast it would spin him hard."
"Not hard enough," Elias growled softly.
"What do we do now?" John asked Doc.
"We wait. She'll either come out of it, or she won't. If she doesn't, I'll need to admit her. I better call the hospital and make sure they have a room for her in the morning." Then she took out her phone and walked back into the kitchen as she made arrangements.
"I want this fucker, John," Elias growled.
"Easy," John told him. "We'll get him, but there are things to arrange, and things to consider. This isn't just about her. You said that she was making deliveries for Tomas. I'm thinking drugs. What are you thinking?"
Elias took a pull from his bottle and then nodded. "I agree. He's narco, so I'm thinking that some of the busts he makes come in with missing kilos and such. Then he's selling those back out on the street."
"Seriously?" Larry asked.
"Can't see it any other way," Elias told him. "He used Chelsea as a mule, so that if something went down, she would take the hit and he would be clean. As tormented and broken as he made her, she would never tell anyone about him if she was busted. Hell, she would be happy to go to prison."
"Now though, she's a serious liability," John pointed out.
"Only if she can prove any of it," Larry said.
"That's not going to be Tomas' line of logic," John told him.
"You mean, he's not looking to get her back? He's looking to kill her?" Larry asked.
"That's where my money is," John nodded.
"One thing is for certain," Elias said. "He will be back. That restraining order means nothing to him, and the only thing the suspension is going to do is give him more freedom to operate while he figures out how to get at her," Elias reasoned. "I'm going to need some men. Fifteen of them. Three shifts of five, until I can think this through."
"You got them." John nodded. "I need to talk with Wild Bill and Steve-O. We need to pow wow on this, figure out just what we are getting into, and how far we are going to commit."
Elias looked at him.
"Don't give me that look. This is some serious shit, and it has to be handled right," John told him.
Elias nodded. "I know. But just so that you know, I'm in all the way. There's no way I'm leaving her now. She made a leap of faith in there, put her faith in me, and I'm not letting her down."
"I hear you brother, and I would never expect anything else from you. I've got to consider the club as a whole though. She told you he has friends, both on the force and off. This could put us in a crossfire with the Houston PD. That's not something to take lightly."
Elias clenched his fist but nodded. "I understand."
"No, I don't think you do, but I do, and I'll make sure that this is done right," John told him. "Whatever we decide, I assure you that we won't leave you with your ass hanging out on your own. That's not going to happen. But it needs to happen right."
Elias nodded again, this time a little more relaxed. "Thanks John."
"Good. Now I've got calls to make, and men to find. I'll have at least three of them over her
e tonight and then we'll put together a roster of babysitters and scouts."
Elias nodded again. "Good. I better get my guns cleaned up and make some coffee."
"You do that. Larry, I want you to find out everything you can about this Tomas guy. Everything. Pull in favors, private dicks, research, everything. You have a budget of five grand."
"Got it. I'll get to work on that right now," Larry agreed.
"You know, Elias. We were into this up to our eyeballs as soon as you faced him down last week. We just didn't know it. It's a good thing she came clean now, or we would be flapping in the wind of a shit storm without ever knowing why."
"Yeah, I know. I didn't feel I could press her though," Elias sighed.
"And you were right, you couldn't. She probably would have melted down even worse, or bolted. Just making sure we are on the same page," John agreed.
Then he got up and headed for the door, but paused and turned to look back at his Sergeant at Arms. "I love you man, and I like that little girl a lot. We'll get through this."
Elias nodded, and watched the mountain he called "president" leave the house. He clenched his fist again and then let out a long breath.
"I'm out of here, too. I've got chores. I'll give you a call in the morning," Larry told him.
"Thanks. Good hunting," Elias said.
Larry clapped him on the shoulder and then followed John out of the house.
Doc came back in from the kitchen. "I have a room reserved for her if we need it in the morning. It might be best to have her examined either way, just to make sure she really is physically alright."
"You're the doc, Doc. I'll back whatever you think needs to happen."
"You know, I was listening from the kitchen. You really don't need to worry about the club. They are going to back you. You know that, right?" Doc asked.
Elias nodded. "Yeah, I know that, but when the chips are down, there's always that demon of doubt on the table, ready to take a bite out of your confidence. After listening to Chelsea, my confidence in the human race as taken a nose dive."
"Wolves take care of their own Elias. Never doubt that."
Elias nodded again, and then walked back to check on Chelsea. While he was looking her over Doc came in beside him. "Elias?" she said softly.
"Yes," he asked.
"She's basically been the victim of multiple daily rapes and degradation for more than fourteen months. That's not something many people ever recover from," she told him gently.
"What are you trying to say, Doc? I'm not leaving her, and I'm not going to distance myself either," Elias replied.
Doc nodded, "Not saying anything, Elias, just making sure you understand the road you are riding. She's going to get worse before she gets better at this point. She will probably need medications to control her PTSD, and she may even wind up disabled from it."
"Whatever she needs, Doc. Whatever she needs."
"It's a good sign that she doesn't see sex with you as a threat. Can you tell me if she seems too loose with it? Is she overly sexual?"
Elias thought about that. "No. I don't think so, at least. It never crossed my mind that she was nympho or anything. Just, well… shit, Doc, she was so happy today.
"Why don't you come back out here in the living room and tell me how you met, and what she was like. The more I know, the more I can help," she suggested.
"Yeah, alright. It's a good story, actually," he said with a weak smile.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Chelsea woke to sunlight, and the feeling of Elias' body pressed against her, warm, smooth, and strong. Her thoughts were confusing, however, as to why she was in his bed. She told him what she was, what Tomas made her into. Why was she still here, and not in the guest room?
"Good morning, baby," Elias said.
"Good morning," she said weakly, feeling the heat of his breath on her neck with a longing ache. "I'm… I'm not sure… I don't know how I got here."
He pulled her closer and she whimpered slightly, wanting to turn around and embrace him, but controlled herself.
"What do you remember, Chelsea?" he asked.
"We went for a ride, and then we hot tubbed. Then I told you what I was, and then… I don't… it's not clear. I can't remember."
"Chelsea?"
"Yes?"
"That's not what you are, baby, it's what happened to you. Do you understand that? Do you understand the difference?"
She wanted to say yes, she really did, but that wasn't the way of things. "I'm… I should probably get up and pack."
"No baby, that's not what you should do at all."
"It isn't?" she asked, trembling.
"No baby," he told her.
"What should I do?" she asked, tears coming to her eyes.
"You should stay with me. I care about you. You're my woman, my riding partner. I care about you."
She started crying then. "Why? How can you?"
"How could I not?" he asked.
She pondered on that for a moment and found nothing to say, so she asked, "What happened to me last night? Did something bad happen?"
"You had a problem, yes. But Doc is here, and she's going to make sure you are alright. We'll probably go down to the hospital with her, and have you checked out, but you are safe, and there's nothing to worry about. Just a checkup, alright."
"How bad of a problem? What problem? Please tell me Elias, I'm a little scared."
"You have what's called post-traumatic stress disorder. PTSD. Do you know what that is?"
"Not really, no. Isn't that what soldiers get?"
"Yes, they get it, and people who have been through what you have been through get it, too. But we're going to take care of you. I'm going to take care of you. I don't want you to leave me, alright? Please? I really want you to stay with me."
"You really want me to stay?"
"Yes, lover, I really want you to stay. I care about you very much. I want to help you. So does Doc, and Larry, and John. We all want you to stay."
"Larry? John? They know too?" she asked, her trembling increasing.
"Yes, I told them some of it so they would understand what was going on with you."
"They know what I am?"
"They know what happened to you, yes. They know you are a wonderful woman, and they care about you a great deal."
"I'm not a wonderful woman."
"You're my woman, and you are wonderful to me."
She fell silent, trying to make sense of what he was saying, but it didn't make any sense at all. She was nothing—a nonentity. How could he possibly care about her? How could he feel wonderful about a woman like her in his bed? He was a good man, a real man. He should have a real woman.
"Do you trust me Chelsea?" Elias asked her.
"Yes, I trust you." She nodded, truthfully.
"Then don't worry about this for now. Let's just get up, have some coffee, and talk to Doc. Then we'll do what she thinks is best. Alright?"
"Alright. I'll do that," she agreed. "I'll make some coffee for us. Do you want breakfast?" Doing things for him seemed natural, felt natural. She was comfortable with the idea of servitude and service. These were things a woman like her was supposed to do, and for Elias, she wanted to do them.
"How about scrambled eggs and bacon?" he suggested.
"I can do that. I'll do that," she agreed, nodding, and slipped out of his arms and out of the bed. Elias followed her. She was hoping he would stay in bed, let her get some distance from him, but he seemed to want to stay close.
"I better put a shirt on if you want bacon," she said weakly. "You know, um, with the grease splatter and all."
"That's probably a good idea," he said with a smile.
"Yeah, I'll put on a shirt. Can I wear one of yours?" she asked.
"Yes, that's just fine."
"Alright." She nodded and went to the closet. She chose one of his long T-shirts and put it on while he slipped into his pants. The shirt came down to the top of her thighs, covering her ass. Sh
e liked that it smelled like him. She watched him dress, enjoyed the way he looked. She was happy that he wanted her to at least stay with him. She didn't want to leave. She liked it here.
After he had his pants on, he asked, "Can I have a kiss?"
"A kiss?" she asked, biting her lip.