Breathing through my nose as I grit my teeth, I grab some gloves and quickly put them on before grabbing the saline solution and gauze before drenching the cotton. Then ever sofucking carefully, I wipe around the wounds, getting rid of the excess blood, fresh blood already reappearing, and I, fuck me, my anger is consuming me right now.
Chucking the gauze with force into the little bag I opened earlier, I grab the needle I already dispensed.
“Okay, buttercup, I’m going to just numb the area, you’ll feel a pinch, alright?” I say, and she gives me a nod, and I swallow hard.
I fucking hate that I have to do this, but I also know I don’t want anyone else to touch my fucking girl.
Taking a deep breath, I slowly inject the needle near the wounds, making her suck in a breath, and I gently rub my thumb over her thigh, trying to help keep her calm.
“So, you told me so, huh?” I say as I drop the needle in the tray, trying to distract her and I grab more gauze and begin to clean inside the wounds, and she snorts.
“Kind of,” she croaks, her voice laced with pain, and I hum.
“I guess this is what you were trying to stop from happening,” I confirm, even though I know the answer.
“Yeah,” she whispers, “but I don’t understand how your mother knew Bruce.”
“Well, that is something I have to find out, but something tells me, years ago, Mama saw us together and figured out who you were and who was close to your family. I think she sought out Bruce to become her spy where you are concerned. I think your mother blabbed everything to him the night she attacked you and he then went to my mother, but that is a lot of thinks. I will find out the truth, just as soon as I stitch you up.”
She hums but doesn’t say anything else and I look up for a moment as I put the bloodied gauze in the bag to see her staring off, and I swallow hard.
She’s acting differently, and it is fucking worrying me.
I mean, why was she at that park to begin with when there’s one just across the road from here?
Why was she ignoring my phone calls?
Why is she flinching every time I call her buttercup?
Crap, did she see…
I shake my head, instantly denying my own thoughts because if she’d come to the garage, Vincent would have mentioned something.
Not if he had to follow her, a niggling voice whispers and I take a deep breath as the realization hits me.
Fuck me, she fucking saw and thinks I’m not only screwing the cougar still and Nell but now also Chanel.
Dammit!
Sighing, I grab the needle and thread and gently pierce her skin, silence surrounding us and I try and think of a plan to get through to her but my resentment towards her goes up a notch at her silent treatment.
Why am I the one always having to fight for her?
When is she going to fight for me, for us?
***
“Paul, please, you love me,” I hear the woman who birthed me plead as I slowly descend the steps into the torture shack an hour later, and I curl my lip.
After stitching Jas up, giving her over twenty fucking stitches and bandaging her wounds, I helped her climb into bed and watched as she slowly drifted off and after ensuring she was knocked out. I kissed her head before checking on Aisling to see if she was still sound asleep as well which she was, then I came to the clubhouse after confirming my thoughts with Vincent who is standing outside my front door, protecting my girls.
I know Jas won’t stay asleep for long, it’s the middle of the day, but I’m hoping she does rest, to let her side heal, and for the love of god, not rip her fucking stitches.
“I did, once upon a time, before finding out you're nothing but a lying psycho bitch!” Dad growls in return, and Thunder mentions, “Pretty sure if he still loved you, he wouldn’t be balls deep inside Tiffany every chance he gets,” before he grunts, and he snaps, “Hey, that hurt, Trigger!”
“I cheated on my wife, jackass. Are you trying to assume I didn’t love her?” Trigger growls and I shake my head at the idiots as I walk inside the full room, not shocked to see every brother in here while the woman who should have loved me unconditionally sits in the middle of the room, her legs and arms tied. Kate on her left, Bruce on her right, both gagged and both trembling with fear just how I like them.
“Fuck off, you were different, and you know it,” Thunder snaps, “you loved her that much, you tried to kill yourself because of your guilt, Rocky has none.”
