by Imogen Wells
After a quick dash to the toilet, I grab a coffee, and get back on the road. I hit traffic around Birmingham, then it eases up as I pass Wolverhampton, and I make up the time I lost earlier. My phone rings, and as it lights up from its cradle, I see it’s Seb calling. Shit. As the call connects, that unease that’s been sitting heavy in my gut rears its fucking head full force.
“Seb?”
“Yeah, man, it’s me. Listen, so Scott said he tried calling but you weren’t answering, everything okay?” he asks, his voice light and easy, but I know Seb.
“Yeah, but I have the distinct impression that’s about to change. What’s going on?” My skins prickles as I wait for him to answer.
“Scott had a tail after he left Cam’s work. He didn’t want to go back to the apartment with no Russ, so—”
“Hold on, where the fuck is Russ?” I roar, as red begins to invade my vision.
“Fuck knows, Scott said something about food poisoning. Look, he’s on his way to mine, okay. Should be here in about twenty. How about you, where you at?”
“A couple hours away tops. Is Cam alright? Scott lose the tail, yeah?
“She’s fine, man, chill. Anybody would think you’re in looooove with the chick.” He chuckles down the line. “Just meet us at mine, see you in a few lover-boy.” I hear kissing noises over the speaker before he hangs up on a laugh.
I shake my head at the idiot. Who said anything about love? As I check the rear-view mirror, I catch the small smile on my face and let out a laugh. Yeah, I’m royally screwed.
I’m not entirely happy with Scott on his own and having a tail, so I notch up the speed. However, knowing they will be with Seb soon keeps me from completely gunning it home.
Two hours later, I’m pulling down Seb’s driveway, ready to see Cam and enjoy a cold beer with the wisecracking jerk that makes up our trio. But as I round the bend there’s no sign of Scott’s car, only Seb’s and one other I recognise instantly. Alarm slams into me as I slam the breaks on, skidding to a stop alongside Seb’s Audi. I shove the car door open and race for the front door. Bursting inside, I’m met with raised voices and a high-pitched scream from upstairs. I don’t waste a second, taking the stairs two at a time and calling out Cam’s name.
As I reach the top of the stairs, Seb emerges from a room on the right, pulling the door closed behind him and muffling the cries of pain coming from inside. He’s covered in blood, and my heart drops like a fucking stone.
Twenty-Seven
Camryn
Pain. Voices. Pain. I can’t move. I’m trapped, my legs are trapped. I try to pull them free and searing pain fires up my leg. Wet. Cold. So cold. My head throbs. Voices shouting, they sound so far away. Footsteps, running. Someone groaning. More pain. Shouting again, right here next to me. Where am I? Talking now, but it’s muffled and gurgly like I’m underwater. Hands on me. Pulling at me. It’s him, he’s here. I pull away. Need to run, to get away. Can’t let him catch me. I try to move, get up, to run, but someone is holding me down. Hands touch my face. “Get off me, I won’t go. I’ll die first,” I shout at them. Well, I think I do.
“Camryn, it’s Seb, Blue’s friend. Can you hear me? I’m not here to hurt you.”
I don’t know this voice, but he sounds nice. It could be a trap. But he said Blue, that’s Ryder, I know him. He’s the bright star in my dark sky. He’s safe.
“S…Seb, Ry…Ryder?” My voice is croaky, throat scratchy and sore. I try to open my eyes. Light shines above me as I slowly open my eyes, bright, blinding light that makes my head throb. “Ryder, where’s Ryder?” I say, as my eyes open, and I stare at the face above me. The face of an angel. Eyes of molten caramel, flecks of gold flicker in the light. My eyes fall shut again.
“Camryn?” the angel says, as a hand touches my face. “Camryn, can you open your eyes again for me?” His voice is clearer now as I open my eyes again. “There she is,” he says, a smile lighting up his face.
“You’re pretty,” I say, and someone laughs. I try to turn my head that way, but a stabbing pain shoots through my head and dots dance in my eyes.
“She must have bumped her head real hard to be calling you pretty.” A gruff voice states, then laughs.
“Don’t try to move for now. You banged your head pretty hard when you fell,” says the guy with the caramel eyes. He must be Seb.
“What happened?” I ask, as images flash through my mind. A car following us. A crash. Scott and Lewis. “Scott, where’s Scott?” Panic rises in my chest. “Lewis was going to kill me. A gunshot. Have I been shot?” My brain scrambles for answers. Trying to remember what happened.
“Lewis is gone, and Scott is right here. You’re safe, we just need to get you home. I’m going to carry you, okay. Can you put your arms around my neck for me, darling,” Seb asks, I don’t try to nod but raise my arms instead, latching on to him as he slides an arm under my legs and one under my back. As he lifts me the pain in my leg flares, I scrunch my eyes shut and bite my lip, but a groan still manages to escape.
The next time I open my eyes, I’m in a plush bed, messing it up with all my blood and dirt and shit. My mind is a little clearer, my head is still throbbing, but it’s nothing compared to the throbbing in my leg.
Looking down, I see that the glass has been removed, and a bandage is wrapped round the top of my thigh, but it’s almost soaked through with blood.
The door opens and in walks the angel, Seb, followed by another man carrying what looks to be a medical bag.
The doctor places the bag down on the bottom of the bed. He’s around my height, greying hair and beard, with glasses that hang low on his nose, and he’s dressed in a suit. That’s something you don’t see every day.
“Camryn, it’s good to see you awake. I hope you still think I’m pretty,” Seb says with a wink and a cheeky grin. “This is Dr. Mike Wallis, he’s going to check you over and sort that leg out for you, okay, darling.” I offer a small nod, and worry has me biting my lip. The doctor moves around to my right side, and I pin my gaze on him. There’s something familiar about him, and I’m sure I’ve seen him before. My mind is still a little fuzzy, so I just put it down to that.
“Hello, Camryn. It’s good to see you, just unfortunate it had to be under these circumstances,” he greets, offering me his hand to shake. I reach out, placing my hand in his. It’s warm and soft, and as his fingers close around my hand, he turns it over, resting his other hand on top. When I look up, his light blue eyes sparkle with kindness, and I relax a little. He pats my hand a couple of times before letting go.
“So, Seb tells me you bumped your head rather hard. Can you tell me how it feels now? Any spots in your vision, any blurriness, a headache, or anything else?” he asks, reaching over to his bag.
“Yeah, I have a slight headache, but no spots or blurriness now. It hurts to move my head too quickly though, like a stabbing pain. And I feel nauseous.” He nods along with my answers, then checks my eyes with his little light, checks the bump on the back of my head and concludes that I have minor concussion. I didn’t really need a doctor to tell me that. “It’s not my first rodeo,” I tell him, bitterness and anger lacing my words. He just nods, no surprise or judgement on his face.
When he moves on to my leg, that’s a completely different kettle of fish. That shit hurts. Once the bandage is removed, I can finally see the damage. That’s going to leave one hell of a scar. Just another one to add to the collection. It’s going to need suturing, again not my first time, I tell him this too, and that I don’t want any anaesthetic, that shit doesn’t agree with me.
As the doctor sets up his equipment, I watch Seb as he stands in the corner of the room. He has his arms crossed over his broad chest, both arms are sleeved in tattoos, and as he turns his head to look out the window, I spot a tattoo that goes from his neck down below the collar of his t-shirt. I narrow my eyes trying to decipher it better, it looks like wings, and then recognition hits. And so, does the doctor.
I let out a high
-pitched scream as Dr. Wallis begins cleaning my leg. He pokes around, ensuring there are no smaller pieces of glass. Through the fog of pain, I can hear someone calling my name, but I can’t focus on it right now. I close my eyes, taking slow deep breaths, as the Doc starts suturing. Then I hear him.
“Where the fuck is she?” Ryder shouts, and I open my eyes to see that Seb is no longer in here. I can hear Seb trying to calm him down, but he’s fuming.
“Move out of my fucking way, Seb, now!” The door flies open as Ryder stomps into the room, stopping the moment his eyes land on me. His face is red, I’m not sure if it’s from rage or exertion, and his nostrils flare wildly with each breath he takes. His hands are at his sides, clenched tight, and as my eyes scan his face, I see the tic in his jaw and several bruises marking his beautiful face. Ryder’s eyes are a swirling, stormy blue that look like they could fire bolts of lightning, striking anything in his way. The doctor hits a particularly sore spot, and I cry out.
“Argh, fuck!” My cry is drowned out by the growl that rips from Ryder’s throat as his eyes fly to the Doctor. I see Seb seize Ryder’s arm stopping his advance. Scared for the Doc’s life if I make another noise, I bite my tongue. Ryder watches me for several more minutes, then without a damn word he storms from the room. Seb offers me a sad smile before he races after him.
“Well, that was interesting, wouldn’t you say,” the Doc says, his amusement clear. “Almost done, Camryn. You’re going to need to keep this dry for at least 48 hours and change the dressing every day for the first week, but let me guess, you already know that.” There’s no judgement there, he’s simply stating what I’ve already told him. I know the drill.
When he’s done, he packs away and wishes me well. He leaves his card on the bedside table, telling me to call if I have any concerns. As the door clicks closed, I huff out a huge breath, leaning my head on the headboard. I realise that I don’t know what happened to Scott or if he’s okay. I vaguely remember Seb saying that he was, and I’m certain I heard Scott’s voice when we were back at the crash site.
A bone-weary tiredness crashes over me, but before I allow it to swallow me, pulling me into the darkness, I need to clean up. My trousers have already been removed, I’m guessing cut to shreds, but I’m still wearing what’s left of my once white blouse. I slowly push myself in to a sitting position, shuffling to the edge of the bed. The pain as eased since the Doc gave me some painkillers, leaving a bottle next to the bed for me to take regularly.
A wave of nausea washes over me as I get to my feet, and I pause a second till it passes. There’s another door in the room that I’m praying is a bathroom. It is and after a lot of manoeuvring, I finally manage to clean up and wash my hair. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror above the sink. My skin is sallow, and there are bruises just beginning to bloom on my face. My usually bright brown eyes are dulled, and there’s a cut above my right eye where I banged it on the window during the crash. To be fair, I’ve looked much worse before.
Turning away, I exit the bathroom to find a pile of clean clothes on the freshly made bed. Quickly dressing in what is most definitely a man’s t-shirt and joggers, I climb back under the covers and sleep.
My sleep is fitful, but sometime during the night I wake crying, only to be swept up in safe arms that hold me until I fall back to sleep.
Twenty-Eight
Camryn
As consciousness beckons, I can almost pretend that last night never happened, but as I stretch, every ache and pain makes itself known. My leg twinges as the muscle contracts with the movement, and the sutures pinch. My head feels sore, but there’s no longer an annoying little miner in there hammering away. Whilst I’m aware of the rest of my body, it feels more like I had a hard workout rather than a car crash and a fight with…Lewis. Shit. I need to find out what happened to him. As Sean’s second, he’ll be missed, and Sean will want payback if he’s dead. Not that I give a flying fuck, I hope he’s dead and wild animals have ravaged every part of his body. I only wish I could have been there to see him suffer. I’m seriously starting to worry about my penchant for brutality and death.
I’m on my way to the bathroom, wincing with each step, when there’s a knock on the bedroom door, and then it opens and in steps Seb carrying a tray. Seeing the bed empty has panic flashing in his eyes, then he spots me, and a relieved smile crosses his face.
“Hey. I brought you some breakfast and thought you could do with a dose of this handsome, no, sorry that’s not right. What was it you said? Oh yeah, pretty was what you said. So, have your fill of this pretty face.” He puts one hand on under his chin, tilting his head slightly and wagging his eyebrows at me.
I let out a little laugh, it’s impossible not to. “I see you’re the pretty, cocky, joker of the trio,” I say, stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door.
“That laugh tells me you love me already,” he calls through the door.
Five minutes later when I step out of the bathroom, he’s sitting on the other side of the bed, one foot on the floor and eating what I’m assuming is the toast he made for me. I shake my head as I hobble back to the bed.
“Rude much.” I point at the toast halfway to his mouth, not in the least bit bothered he stuffs it into his mouth. Sitting down, I shuffle back and gingerly bring my left leg up onto the bed. “You better not leave crumbs in my bed,” I tell him around a smile that I try my best to hide but fail miserably.
“Your bed, huh? Well, for a start, it’s my bed,” I raise an eyebrow at that, “and second, it’s not the crumbs you need to worry about but the giant anaconda that lurks here ‘cause he eats injured woman for breakfast.”
I don’t even try to hold in the burst of laughter that leaves me at that. “Really? More like eats the injured woman’s breakfast.” I deadpan, but I can’t keep a straight face. “Does that shit really work for you?”
Seb holds a hand to his chest feigning hurt, “My poor wounded heart,” he says, before dropping the act. “Of course it does. The ladies lap it up, what with my pretty face and charming conversation.”
“Well, the conversation part remains to be seen, so excuse me if I don’t take your word for it.” I fidget, trying to get comfortable. Once I’m settled, a cup appears in front of me, thanking Seb as I take it. Then he holds out the toast in offering, but I shake my head.
“You need to eat. Don’t want that banging body wasting away. A man likes to have something to grab onto when he’s—” He doesn’t get to finish as a growl sounds from the doorway. We both turn at the sound to see Ryder there, arms folded across his chest, a scowl on his face and hard, cold eyes narrowed on Seb.
“I think that’s my cue to leave,” Seb whispers through the side of his mouth, but keeping his eyes trained on the predator by the door. “Enjoy your breakfast, Camryn.” he says, then quickly leans forward grabbing my face and planting a kiss on my cheek, pulling back with a wink before leaping from the bed as Ryder charges into the room. I stifle a laugh at the gall of the guy but also that he knows it’s pissing off Ryder and he doesn’t care.
“You better run, motherfucker,” rings out from Ryder, as he reaches my side of the bed. Seb makes a dash for the door, pausing long enough to blow me another kiss then scampering away down the hall.
The air in the room shifts, tension weighs heavily between us, and I’m not sure how to deal with it. I’m still confused over Ryder’s reaction last night, he was livid but at who, about what? If he wasn’t angry at me, then why the hell did he storm out?
I watch him from the corner of my eye as he shuffles his feet seemingly unsure of himself, and more than a little awkward. Who’d have thought that Ryder Hawkins would ever be awkward or unsure. The man exudes confidence, demands respect, and offers no apologies. You know what, screw this. I’ve done fuck all wrong, and I won’t let him make feel otherwise.
“Are you going to stick around for a conversation this time, or are you going to stomp off like a fucking toddler again?” I demand, looking
at him fully for the first time. I see the bruises I noticed briefly last night more clearly today, and I can see a small cut to his lower lip too. They are a rainbow of colours, and I want so badly to reach out and kiss them better, to know what happened and if he’s okay. But I’m mad at him right now. He’s close enough to me that I see him bristle at my accusation, and I’m glad to see I hit home with my comment.
Moving to the end of the bed, he sits facing me, and when his eyes finally lock onto mine, I see guilt and what looks like hurt too. It’s not enough to dampen my ire at him, but it does have me questioning his reasons. I place my still full cup on the bedside table, not sure I won’t spill it as my temper rises.
“It’s not what you think, Cam,” he states.
“No? So, what is it then? ‘Cause I’m a little confused, you came racing in here like the devil was chasing you, took one look at me, and poof, you’re fucking gone. I’m not a mind reader, Ryder, and even if I was, I’m pretty sure I’d fail at reading yours. You’re like a damn fortress.” I wait for him to say something, but he just hangs his head. My disappointment hums through me. “You know what, just forget it,” I say dismissively. “How’s Scott, is he okay?” I ask, feeling like this is safer territory.
He seems shocked at my switch of topic but doesn’t comment. “He’s fine, a few cuts and scrapes and a nasty bump to his head, but he’ll live,” he tells me, the gruff and commanding tone is back. That’s fine by me, I can’t, and I won’t do this back and forth shit with him.
“What about Lewis? Is he dead?” I ask, my voice quivers when I say his name and a shiver runs up my spine.
Ryder watches my face, no doubt assessing if I can handle the truth. Obviously deciding that I can, he tells me that Seb shot him.