CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SHORT
At least I hadn’t really dropped my bike. It was more civilised than that. I’d kicked down the stand, stepped off it, and stood ready to let Freak have a go at my face. Even if the enforcer had been a little too enthusiastic in leaving his mark, the pain I’m in will be worth it. It had gotten us into Doc’s house, and hopefully, he’ll take Prez’s threat seriously, and it will serve to stop him laying his hands on Bronwyn again.
After our little theatre, instead of the crashed bike we’d led Doc to believe, I’ve got my transport ready to ride back to the clubhouse, even if my face throbs like a bitch. I file away a promise to make Freak pay when I’m mended.
I have to keep reminding myself, Bronwyn means nothing to me. Seeing her with those two, now well-developed black eyes, and watching Doc ordering her around as if he owns her, shouldn’t make me wish I could whisk her away to protect her. I’m even arguing with myself, it’s not her. I’d be feeling the same for any abused woman. A man would have to be a misogynistic dick to be unaffected.
It was bad enough hearing last night how he’d hurt her, but seeing him lying and showing no remorse had made my blood boil. Even if his story about her having an “accident” had some truth in it, any well-meaning parent would have had her resting, and not suggesting she apply her nursing skills to what should have been his patient. Nah, it’s not a sign I care for her. I’d have been irate on anyone’s behalf in a similar situation.
These are the thoughts going around my head as I ride back to the compound. As well, of course, as planning my retribution on Freak. He’d taken far too much pleasure in making my wounds look realistic. So much so, I now need time to recover. When I’m healed though, he’d better watch out.
Following behind my prez, sergeant-at-arms, and enforcer, I pull into the compound, then paddle-walk my bike back into its parking spot. While the thoughts in my head had kept me otherwise engaged, I’d ridden back on autopilot. Now the adrenaline seeps out of me, and my injuries make themselves known. Rather than dismounting after kicking down the stand, I lean over, putting my aching head in my hands.
My “road rash” burns, my nose hurts, and I feel like I’ve gone ten rounds against the world heavyweight champion, rather than just being laid out by the enforcer.
Fucking Freak. And, of course, it had to be him who’s approaching me. He clears his throat to get my attention.
Raising my eyes, I find him standing in front of me, his hands held out to his sides. “Take your shot at me, Brother, I deserve it.”
“Brother,” I growl, letting my frustration and sarcasm win out. “What’s the point of hitting you now when I feel weak as a kitten and like I’ve been used as a punching bag?”
“Which you have,” Tempest helpfully puts in, as he too approaches and slings his arm around Freak’s shoulder. “Would it help if I hold him for you? Hey, what the fuck?” The last isbecause Prez has just stepped up, and cuffed his sergeant-at-arms around the ear.
“Short, you did well tonight, but you look like you’re going to collapse at any moment. Freak, help him to his room, and you.” He points at me. “Get some rest. We can regroup later when you feel better.”
“I fuckin’ hate Doc.” I can hear my own words slurring, and start to wonder whether, despite Doc saying I hadn’t, I might well have a concussion courtesy of Freak’s over-exuberant blow to my face.
Bullseye snorts. “Don’t reckon you’re alone in that. But unfortunately, he’s the devil we’ve got to deal with. Best we can hope for is to clip his wings and that he starts to be on his best behaviour.”
But how can we be sure Prez’s threats will work? “We need to keep an eye on Bron.”
He places his hand on my shoulder. “We’ll make sure we do. Reckon Doc is going to have some unwelcome visitors arriving at his house quite often in the future.”
That might work. At least Bron will know someone’s got eyes on her. My worry, tempered for now, a wave of dizziness comes over me, and once again my head droops.
“Come on, Bro,” Freak says gently. “Let’s get you to bed.”
Right at this moment, I’d rather have anyone’s assistance than his. Remembering that revenge can sometimes be best served cold, I park my anger and lean on him as I swing my leg over the saddle of my bike. And, unfortunately needing his help, submit to him putting his supporting arm around my shoulder as he helps me into the clubhouse and up to my room.
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten I owe you,” I tell him menacingly as, after making sure I’m settled on the bed, with pain killers within reach – the last of the good shit left from when I was last injured - he turns to leave.
He sends me a salute. “When you’re healed, it’s you and me. But I’ll still fuckin’ beat ya.”
Dick!
That can, and will, come later. All I want to do now is to feel my head hit the pillow and get some rest. I even turn down Star when she comes to offer me some comfort. But I don’t turn Trixie away when she enters at dinner time with a plate of fried chicken, a beer, and some more painkillers. For the latter, I could kiss her. My head still throbs.
Fucking Freak took his task too seriously.
With food in my stomach, the pain relief starts to work, so I heave myself upright. When the room stops spinning, I go down to the clubroom, more for a change of scenery than for anything else.
“How’s the head?” Tempest asks as I approach and come to stand next to him. His hand comes to my chin, turning my injured cheek to face him. He gives a wide grimace. “Fuck, Bro, that must sting.” He shakes his head. “Freak got a little too enthusiastic.”
“Freak was having the time of his life.” Saint joins us, nodding at Knight to pass him a beer. In his enthusiasm to serve the VP, Knight is a bit too quick and almost drops the bottle when he takes the top off. Saint points two fingers at his own eyes, then turns them toward the prospect. Knight gulps and seems to shrink in front of us.
When he moves off to serve Words, who’s at the other end of the bar, Saint chuckles. “Got to keep them on their toes.”
