“Okay, I’ll be back after the rest of my shift to check on you again,” she mumbled, moving to the door, half-heartedly dragging her little cart behind her. It almost tipped over, but she seemed in such a hurry to get out of the room that she barely noticed.
“What the fuck, Belle?” I grumbled, even more pissed off then.
She didn’t respond and continued walking away from me, and I lost it. I grabbed my cup of water, trying not to wince as I threw it across the room. It hit the door in front of her, bouncing back and landing at her feet while simultaneously spraying the room, and her, with water. She let out a squeal of fright and turned back to me with those big wide eyes of hers. Her hair was piled high that day, small curls tamed into a mess on top of her head like she hadn’t had the time or patience to make herself presentable for me. Her cheeks flushed, water dripping down her face and onto that god-awful too-big uniform she was wearing, even though I knew she had one that fit her better. I needed Shooter to fix that shit. I couldn’t stand looking at her in that for another damn day.
Woman was my nurse and I needed some goddamn eye candy to look at!
“Oh my god, Beast!” she squealed, her hands on her hips. My nostrils flared at the sight of her: furious gaze, damp chest heaving as she tried to reel in her temper and not bite my fucking head off. The look suited her well. “What? What is it that you wanted so much that you had to soak me and your room for?” she snapped, her voice rising like she’d forgotten who I was and what I was capable of.
Goddamn, it was hot.
I rearranged my junk and glared, ready to shut this shit down, but she’d crossed the line and wasn’t ready to calm the fuck down yet. I knew that feeling well.
“Did you want me to fluff your pillows? Maybe give you a foot massage? Change the channel on your TV? What? What is it that was so important that you would do this to me!” she yelled, her voice rising higher with every word. “Do I not do enough for you as it is, you pig-ignorant, self-absorbed, pathetic little man?”
The door flew open and the prospect that had been assigned to keep guard came in, his gun in hand like he thought I was in danger from this little thing in front of me.
“Everything okay in here?” he said, his features pulled tight as he stared Belle down.
It was the sight of the gun in his hand that seemed to do the trick, finally calming her enough to drop the Wonder Woman shit and remember who I was.
Gotta say, I was disappointed. Kinda liked it when she got feisty. It was probably best for her sake, though, as the insults she’d just thrown in my direction finally got through and I decided I was going to pull out my gun and blow her brains out over the wall. Who the fuck did she think she was talking to?
“I’m sorry, this was all my fault,” she stammered, looking flustered. Her gaze moved between the prospect’s gun and me, and it was obvious she’d never seen a gun up close before and was ready to piss herself.
“Was it?” I growled, arching an eyebrow when she looked up at me. I liked pushing her, I realized. I liked seeing her scared. I liked the taste of her fear in the air, but mostly I liked watching her discover new parts of herself.
She nodded quickly. “Yes, I’m sorry.” She glanced nervously toward the prospect again, swallowing nervously. “I’m really sorry.” Her chin wobbled and she swiped at the water dripping down her cheeks.
She was verging on pathetic now, the fire gone from her eyes.
That was disappointing.
“Get the fuck out of here, both of you,” I growled, pissed off that he’d interrupted her little tirade at me and even more pissed off that she’d backed down so quickly. Bitch had balls beneath that dowdy uniform; she just hadn’t realized it yet.
Belle nodded quickly and turned to leave, but the prospect was still standing in her way, glancing between us both like he was trying to figure shit out. His gun was still aimed at her, and she lifted her hands in surrender like she thought he was going to shoot her.
“Did you not hear me, prospect? I said, Get. The. Fuck. Out!” I roared, wanting nothing more than to get out of that bed and punch him in his face. “And put that gun away!”
“Come on,” he snapped at Belle, and they both left.
After she left I began to feel something I hadn’t felt in…years. Not since I was a little boy and my mom had been gone for a week, leaving me trapped in our bullshit apartment with nothing more than two bags of Cheetos and a bottle of Mountain Dew. Or maybe it was something that I’d just tried to deny that I had been feeling for weeks now.
I was lonely.
God knows that place was isolating at times and was boring as all hell. Sitting in that damned bed, day in, day out, waiting for someone—anyone—to come in and feed me or bathe me, or speak to me. I was a strong man that hadn’t depended on anyone for a long time, but at the moment I depended on everyone for everything, and I hated it.
Belle had only been gone five or ten minutes and I was already climbing the walls in loneliness, knowing that I had the full day ahead of me before she came back. My thoughts strayed to the club, wondering what was going on there. What was happening in the search for the fucks that had killed Echo and put me in here. What was happening back at the clubhouse. Had the last run gone okay? Had the shipment come in from the new suppliers? The questions swarmed my head, clouding everything but the noise, and the questions were never enough to drown out his voice.
Echo, my brother, was still calling my name, no matter how much I tried to distract myself from it. No matter how much I yelled and grumbled, shouted and pissed people off. He was still there. The pain in my body had almost killed me, but the pain of hearing him in my head was sending me insane.
The memories of that night, of that moment between life and death when everything had been okay in the world and we’d both been alive, joking about women and life, and then BOOM, the gun had gone off and he was gone. The light faded from his eyes slower when I thought about it. It set like the sun, fading behind the hills until there was only blankness.
I knew it hadn’t happened like that—that it had been quick, over in an instant—but in my head, all I saw was the bubbles of death spilling from his lips and him calling my name, begging me to save him.
I grabbed at my head, wanting him to get the fuck out of it. Needing him to be quiet.
I needed drugs to dull his voice. I needed Belle to yell at. I needed her silky touch on my skin to soothe the raging in my heart. Jesus, I almost wished for death, but I couldn’t let that happen—not until I’d sent the men responsible to ground.
