"King know about this?"
"Not yet." I pick up the plate. "Was going to talk to him after making sure she's not bleeding internally or something."
"King's with Luna tonight," Tank says. "Won't be back till morning." He pushes off from the doorframe. "Let me see her."
It's not a request. I nod and lead him back to the room, knocking softly.
"Claire? It's Rage. Got food. Tank's with me. He's VP of the club."
There's silence, then the sound of the deadbolt sliding back. The door opens a crack, revealing her pale face.
"Can we come in?" I ask.
She opens the door wider, stepping back to let us enter. In the harsh overhead light, her bruises look worse than they did in the moonlight. The one on her cheekbone is yellowing, but there's a fresher one near her jaw that's still dark purple.
Tank takes in her appearance with a single sweep of his eyes, his face unreadable. But I've known him long enough to see the slight tightening around his mouth. The only sign that he's affected by what he sees.
"This is Tank," I say, setting the plate on the small desk. "Vice President of the Savage Riders."
"Claire," she says, her voice stronger than it was in the park. "Thank you for letting me stay here tonight."
Tank nods once. "Rage says you're in some trouble."
She glances at me, then back to Tank. "My... my boyfriend. Husband if I hadn’t left. I run away last night."
"And he did that to your face," Tank states.
She touches her cheek unconsciously. "Yes."
"He looking for you?"
She wraps her arms around herself. "Probably."
"He local?"
I see the hesitation in her eyes. "Close," she finally says.
Tank and I exchange a glance. Close means complications. Close means this could blow back on the club if her ex has connections.
"You got somewhere to go? Family? Friends?" Tank asks.
She shakes her head. "No family. No real friends. He... isolated me pretty effectively."
Classic abuser tactic. Cut them off from support systems, make them dependent.
"You need medical attention?" I ask, nodding toward the way she's guarding her left side.
"No," she says quickly. "Just bruises."
Tank's eyes narrow slightly. "Lift your shirt."
She takes a step back, eyes widening. "What?"
"Your ribs. You keep touching them." he clarifies. "Show us."
She looks at me, uncertain.
"We need to know how bad it is," I explain. "If you need a doctor, we need to arrange it now."
