by A. C. Bextor
He’s shaved since I last saw him. He looks younger.
“I don’t eat that shit. I’m thirty-four and those carbs don’t work for men like they used to. Those bitches have started to work against me.” He taps his belly and winks.
He’s kidding, of course. He has to be considering he’s in better shape than most twenty-year-olds I’ve known.
My eyebrows still rise in question, Gypsy’s new information surprising me. He doesn’t look anywhere close to his age.
I look down at my plate and second-guess if I should indulge.
Reading my mind, he points to the plate. “Don’t overthink, woman. Get something in your stomach.”
He leans forward, pushing the tray into my gut so he’s able to get to where my wounds still likely bleed. When he removes the draped sheet, he pushes it up as far as he can but thankfully still keeps me covered.
“Fuckin’ bastard,” he growls. “Maybe Elevent will finally kill that bitch for this.”
I think how nice that would be of Elevent to put that vile man down. I’d pay all I have left in the world to watch that happen.
For it to happen slowly, I’d pay double.
“Every time…,” he starts, then trails off. “Every fucking time.”
I hadn’t given any thought to if there have been more women, like me, who’ve woken to find themselves in this very room. The way Gypsy phrased his distaste, though, there may have been a few.
He scans my swollen cheek and winces.
“There’s not a lot I can do about your face. The bruising will heal on its own, and I don’t see any cuts or scrapes.” When he pauses, I notice his gaze lingering on my neck. He clenches my jaw gently, tilting it to the side for a better look. “Left his marks,” he seethes. “Son of a bitch.” Gypsy’s eyes grow soft, but alert—a careful gesture I’m not sure I understand until he asks, “You hurt anywhere else?”
“Anywhere else?”
“Did he…?”
Was I raped? No.
If Gypsy hadn’t gotten here when he did? Highly likely I’d have been beaten further, raped, or killed.
“He didn’t…,” I start but then stop. Having to explain to a scary stranger that my body wasn’t entirely violated, but my dignity along with my privacy as a woman was, is a challenging endeavor. “He didn’t have a chance to completely rape me, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“It was,” he quietly confirms.
“I’m okay.”
Not even Gypsy deserves my assurances, but so far he’s not been terribly unkind.
“Here.” When he opens the palm of his hand, a white pill sits alone in the center. Noticing my hesitance, he pushes his hand closer. “Take it.”
“What’s it for?”
“Pain mostly, but it’ll also help you sleep.”
Reaching over, he grabs the glass of water from my tray and forces that in my direction as well.
“Drink,” he pushes, visibly losing patience.
After I swallow whatever it was he gave me, Gypsy opens the padded envelope and takes out a pair of blue latex gloves.
“You allergic?” he asks, holding one up before sliding it on.
I shake my head.
“Good.”
Gypsy grabs glass from my hand and carefully places it back on my tray.
As my captor is busy, and I’m no longer terrified or in agonizing pain, I scan the room.
The walls are tanned, but with dirt; every inch or so, the white from behind the dust stands out. The breeze I felt when I arrived comes from a far window, the brown curtains moving to every new gust of air around its frame. I’m lying on a dirty mattress. The dark, scratchy blanket over me is covered in hair—a cat or dog, maybe. The room still smells like ash.
“What I gotta do is gonna hurt, sweet pea. And not just a little,” he explains quietly while pulling out a small tube of liquid. The clear bottle isn’t marked with a label, and I have no idea what it is. When he opens the lid, a waft of sterile odor carries out between us.
Using the metal fork he supplied with the plate, I take my first bite and close my eyes. Maybe it’s because I’m starving or maybe the food really is that good, but I let out a small moan of satisfaction.
“What the fuck?” Gypsy hisses before demanding, “Don’t do that.”
At his venomous tone, I open my eyes to find all the kindness in his are gone. I don’t have a lot of experience in lust, but if someone asked me what it looked like, I’d say this man’s heated expression hits the mark.
Shit.
“Sorry,” I mumble over a mouthful of food. Lifting my empty fork, I explain, “It’s really good.”
The heat in his eyes lessens as he opens another package from the envelope.
“I’ll pack this wound good. Once you get where you’re going, it’s up to them to fix you.”
“Where am I going?” The question slips out, too late to pull back.
He doesn’t make eye contact as he opens another package, this one a small red and white medical tape dispenser.
“Elevent will explain more if he wants.” Pushing the tray to me once more, he grabs my thigh and holds the bottle directly over my wound. “You ready, babe? I’m tellin’ you, this’ll hurt. Don’t scream. It’ll draw the attention of the others.”
After watching him work so swiftly through the vast array of medicine, my internal question begs an answer. “Are you a doctor?”
He releases my thigh only a bit, sits back, and rests the bottle on this leg. “Once upon a time I was something like that.”
“But you’re not anymore.”
“I was in the Army. I served ten years, then got the fuck outta Dodge. Went from one uniform to another you could say.”
“You were a medic,” I assume. A sad expression briefly crosses his features—I’ve guessed correctly. “You’ve seen things.”
“Yes,” he confirms. “And the shit I’ve seen changes a person.”
The transformation from soldier to criminal is one I obviously don’t understand. Many of those brave men and women who’ve dutifully served overseas came back as citizen-claimed heroes. Obviously, being a hero in the public eye wasn’t something Gypsy ever embraced.
“How did you end up”—I point my fork around the room— “here?”
“My old man used to run this club. He stepped down years ago, had his reasons. I was gone. Elevent was the right choice to take it over.”
“I see.”
“Glad for that,” he responds with a small amount of sarcasm. “Now I really gotta see to this.” Clearing his throat, his hand tightens again as he looks up, eyebrows raised, and asks, “Ready?”
Nodding, I tense.
He smiles sharply and his gaze latches on my hand clutching the utensil as a way of bracing for more pain.
With his smirk in place, he insists, “Don’t go stabbing me with that fork either.”
Thinking better of it, he reaches up and takes it from me. I don’t fight to keep it, watching as he carelessly tosses it to the dirty bedside table.
I don’t have a chance to ready myself before the burn of whatever’s in the bottle hits fast and hard. I can’t help it; I bite the inside of my cheek and immediately taste the metallic blood as it pools in my mouth.
“You got this,” he reassures me as he continues pouring the liquid through the open wounds, using his glove-covered hand to prod the skin apart. “Son of a bitch, woman. Nice fuckin’ job.”
I gasp and my eyes begin to water. The remnants of food I was savoring are lost as my mouth fills with bile. I want to be sick. Nothing would be easier than leaning over and losing my stomach again, but I hold myself together and wait.
“Jesus Christ,” Gypsy murmurs to himself.
I say nothing, only allowing my mouth to fall open to breathe through the lingering sting.
Gypsy’s eyes come to mine, hooded and dark in the centers, and he smirks. “Seen a lot of men broken in my time, and fair to say you’d run just fine taking pai
n along with them.”
Throwing the now-empty bottle to the floor, I hear him mumble another bout of congratulations, though I’m not sure for what.
Because oh my God, that freaking hurt.
“You good?” He looks up, capturing my gaze.
“Do you treat all the women in your life so well?” I ask, faintly curious and hoping he distracts me from this pain.
Smiling and putting his things away, he replies, “I don’t have a woman in my life.”
He’s lying. Of course, I don’t really know him, but the way he said it, and the fact that he won’t look at me anymore, gives everything away.
“But you love someone.”
“You’re a pain in the ass,” he tells me tersely, dropping the envelope of trash on the bed.
“I like you,” I admit. “You’re helping me. So, pain in the ass or not, you love someone. I can tell.”
“You like me,” he mutters. He adjusts some of what he brought in the room, then states, “She’s not a woman I can ever have.”
Saddened by his expression, I look away. “I think everyone deserves to be happy.”
“You happy with that fuckwad who put you here?”
Shaking my head, I admit, “Nope. But we’re not together anymore.”
“Good thing, but too little too late.”
“Yeah,” I agree, clenching my jaw and wishing Chase were here so I could punch him.
“Finish this up, then find that woman of yours. She’s out there looking for you. Catch her and get her out of here before she erupts chaos.” With that order being beckoned from the door, Gypsy and I both pause and turn our heads to Elevent.
Gypsy does have a woman. The little liar.
Gypsy doesn’t say anything else as Elevent gives his final order. “And be sure the others are ready to go as soon as it’s time.”
Elevent stands, his body tense and posture rigid. With a considering eye, he surveys the way Gypsy handles their latest guest with exact precision and care.
Gypsy talked to Wren. He smiled. He joked. He allowed a woman who wasn’t his own to reason with him in some unexplainable way. A woman he just met, no less.
Elevent hasn’t been able to get much out of Gypsy since his brother returned from the Army. His club duties have always been handled, of course, but after coming back and finding the woman he’s always loved with another brother in the club, Gypsy shut down. Closed everyone out.
Today isn’t the first time Elevent’s witnessed Gypsy using his gift of medicine to the club’s benefit. In truth, it’s exactly what the club pays him to do. However, it’s the first time he’s ever seen the usually tough and rugged brother do it with such safekeeping.
Elevent believes Wren, even being so young in age and early in life experience, can’t have missed the events of what the past few days have been leading up to. His men were told to scare her, frighten her into compliance as they took her from her dingy and broken home. Even if it meant the only way to do so was using their fists to lightly bruise her.
But they weren’t supposed to cause permanent harm. No one should have fucking maimed her.
So far, from all he’s witnessed of Wren, not only is the woman with a questionable background oblivious to her brave second nature, but also to her keen ability in remaining immensely calm under pressure.
Her outward beauty can render a man speechless, but her inner strength has the potential to render him weak. For her. The coaxing cocktail she offers is a threat to all men in the club. And to her.
The president of the Saint’s Justice Chicago chapter studies Wren as she leaves her plate of bread untouched. She watches with wide-eyed caution as one of the best men he’s ever known finishes dressing her wounds. Once Gypsy has the tape secured around her thigh and only trickles of blood are left to seep through its bandage, he lightly taps her good leg, then reaches over to hand her the fork.
“Finish your dinner. I’ll be back later to check in,” he murmurs.
She stops gasping in pain just long enough to give him a controlled smile and offer a simple “Thank you.”
Gypsy nods before walking to the door, halting his angered steps just in front of Elevent. The president suspects his friend is as impressed by her as he is.
“That bitch has a bigger set of balls than most of these brothers. Tough as nails,” Gypsy expresses tightly. “I don’t get what that Sicilian fuck wants with her. Do you? She’s a fuckin’ kid.”
Over the years, there have been quite a few questionable jobs he and his brothers have completed for the man who once saved Elevent’s life—running shipments of guns and drugs, dealing with traitors in Ciro’s name, accepting bets, and the like. But never, not once in all his time tolerating Ciro’s ruthlessness toward living life, has Elevent ever been so concerned for another or so disgusted in wonder of what Ciro was up to.
This will be the last job, no matter how lucrative the payment, I’ll ever do for the insane man again.
I’m out.
I’m done.
Ciro’s an old brand of aging evil, and Elevent wants no more part of it. His debt to Ciro Palleshi has been paid—with interest.
“What Ciro wants with that woman is not our business,” Elevent reminds Gypsy in an even tone. “How’s her leg?”
Gypsy’s jaw clenches, no surprise to Elevent. They both know that Thanatos has stepped too far past his bounds with this one.
“She needs stitches. I don’t have anything here that’ll suffice. She also needs antibiotics.”
Knowing it was one of his men who tattered her skin to pieces, Elevent seethes, “Find Thanatos, then break his fucking hands. Both of them.”
“That’s it? Break his fuckin’ hands?” Gypsy snaps. “He touched her. He was gonna fuckin’ rape her, Elevent.”
“His hands,” Elevent orders again, then adds, “For now.”
Clearly appeased with the addition to the order, Gypsy nods. Elevent assumes he’ll enjoy taking a hammer to Thanatos in any way, but then he’ll do as he always does and putg him back together. He’ll do all this right before Elevent slices Thanatos’s throat, bleeding him out like the son of a bitch deserves. Maybe, if he ever sees Wren again—and he hopes he does—he’ll give her a chance to do it.
Resigning himself to the fact that he’ll lose a brother, Elevent nods his acknowledgement. “You give her something to help her sleep?”
“I gave her Valium. It’s tricky, though. She hasn’t eaten and she weighs nothing. When you’re done in here, have Leglas come find me. I won’t go far, and I want to come back and check on her. Don’t wait too long.”
“Thank you for the food.” Both heads turn in unison when they hear Wren’s voice break from across the room. “And the help.”
Gypsy tears his gaze from Elevent’s before instructing, “Eat. I’ll check in soon.”
Elevent gives the two a second to exchange glances before stating, “Cricket’s about to go bat-shit. She’s been looking for you for a couple of hours now.”
“I heard you already,” Gypsy tells him. “But I have nothing to say to her.”
“You do. Things here won’t be settled until you two settle your latest bullshit.”
“I’ll have a word,” Gypsy finally agrees.
After giving his brother a curt nod goodbye, Elevent walks into the room and stops at the foot of Wren’s used and dirty mattress. Looking down with angered eyes, his gaze lingers on her exposed legs—more specifically, her injured one.
She’s a beautiful girl. He noticed her poise when he walked out of the bedroom of her trailer where they’d been looking for Chase and found her struggling against Thanatos. Not many women could muster the courage to give fight against that crazy son of a bitch. Thanatos has always been a rabid dog without a bone, and Elevent keeps him hungry for jobs just like that one.
Or he used to, as Thanatos was only meant to scare her. To keep her off balance and on edge. Not fucking hurt her so severely.
“Is Chase still alive?” Wr
en asks as Elevent takes a few steps closer.
The question comes as yet another surprise. Wren Adler isn’t stupid. Surely she can see what a danger that boyfriend of hers is. What danger he’s put her in by being who he is.
“Do you care if he’s alive?” Stepping around the trash on the floor, he stands at her side.
The urge to sweep the hair that’s fallen into her eyes is tempting but he holds back, knowing that one touch would lead to his wanting far more from her than he’d ever deserve.
“Yes. I care if he’s alive.” Her answer is definite—rebelliously, if not impressively, so.
His eyes narrow in thought. He can’t help but smile at her ironclad determination as he counters, “Woman, that boyfriend of yours is the reason you’re here. Why do you care if he’s still breathin’?”
“Because if he’s dead, I can’t kill him myself.”
Gypsy was right. Tough as nails.
“Jesus fuck,” he breathes through a smoldering smile.
He’s found true amusement in the woman’s wish for revenge. Wren Adler is also something else; she’s a complete surprise. And the fact is Elevent truly believes even she doesn’t know all she is. Or all she could be, if given the right hand to coax and guide her into it.
Hiding his barely controlled smirk, he wipes his top lip with his thumb. “If you weren’t who you are, I’d be interested in gettin’ a taste.”
Wren’s eyes narrow, her arms crossed over her chest. Her breathing becomes labored and her cheeks flush mercilessly, giving away her irritated state.
“Calm the fuck down before you stroke out,” he reprimands. “You’re not my kind of woman anyway. Doesn’t matter how much fuckin’ hair you have or how nice your tits and ass are. I don’t like a challenge, and fuck knows, if given time, you’d prove to be exactly that.”
Wren gasps, eyes wide and mouth agape.
No, no way is she aware of all she’s capable of becoming.
Elevent nods to Wren’s leg. The sight of her creamy white, exposed skin heats his own, drawing his blood, once again, to where it sure as fuck shouldn’t go with someone as young and vulnerable as she is.
“You in much pain?” he inquires, but doesn’t wait an answer before offering reassurance. “Thanatos won’t bother you again. He’s locked up and won’t be let out of his cage until you’re long gone.”