Something, maybe my heightened breathing, betrays me.
“She’s awake.” Rough hands pull me up, and I’m dragged to a flat part of the floor that feels solid under my back.
Pretending is of no use anymore, and the pain I’m in means I’ve no fight left in me. I don’t even have the energy to scream.
“I’m going to fuck you now, dear wife, just like the old days. Then, when I’m finished, Marco’s going to take you. Every fucking hole, anyway we want to. But nothing you’re not used to, as you’re a whore. You may even enjoy it.” He pauses to spit at me. “And when we’re both done, I’m going to sink my dick into you again and strangle the life out of you. Yeah.” An evil, anticipatory grin crosses his face. “I’m going to enjoy you thrashing as I choke you.”
He comes closer. My eyes are locked on him as he undoes his tie and discards it, then removes his jacket, giving it to Marco to hold. He undoes his zipper, releasing his engorged dick, which isnothing to write home about, and never was. Freak’s is far more spectacular. Palming his cock, he looms over me…
A gunshot.
Marco folds to the floor.
I glance up, startled.I must be dreaming.But if I am, I don’t want to wake up. I swear I can see Freak, Bullseye, and Short. Blinking hard, when the vision doesn’t disappear, gradually I allow myself to believe that Freak’s real when he whips off his cut, then takes off his t-shirt, and uses that to cover me, giving me the dignity I’d thought, in this world at least, had been lost forever.
As I’m staring up at him in disbelief, I hear Saint’s voice. “Get the prospect here with the truck. Yeah, we’ve got her.”
Then Tempest growls, “She alright?”
Short barks, “Obviously not. Darlin’, don’t worry, we’ve got you.”
Freak kneels down by my side, his hands hovering, reluctant to touch me. “Trix, babe…”
My attention is drawn by the sound of fists hitting flesh. My eyes move to where Woody and Words are beating on Piero. He’s trying to cover his body to protect himself, while crying out, “Do you know who I am? You can’t get away with this!” I might be feeling half-dead. There’s no part of me that isn’t hurting, but somehow, my swollen lips start to smile.
Now the Kings have got him, I’ll never need to be scared of Piero again.
I’m safe. Freak’s found me. I try to tell him I’m alright, that everything’s going to be fine now he’s here with me. But my mind, seeming to know that I’m safe, goes offline.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
FREAK
My hands won’t stop shaking, and my breathing is shallow. I know it’s a sign of an adrenaline drop. I’d been trying to prepare myself to find that Italian bastard, Alongi, to have killed Trixie, maybe buried her body where she’d never be found, leaving me with no closure and set to worry about her forever. I’d hardly dared hope we’d find her alive.
Even now, I can’t believe a Mafia underboss travelled well over two thousand miles with only a trustedsoldatofor company. He’d been that sure of finding her alone and arrogant enough to think he would be able to take her. He certainly hadn’t factored in the involvement of the Kings, or that we’d sworn to protect her, whether she was club property or mine. We never abandon one of our own.
I’m pacing, anxiously awaiting Dr. Robson, who’s one of the surgeons Bronwyn works with at the hospital, and who she somehow managed to persuade to come to the club to treat Trixie, to emerge from the medical room we’d constructed at the clubhouse. It’s one of our latest additions after we’d been forced to rebuild. This is the first time we’ve had to make use of it.
The doctor had apparently agreed, albeit reluctantly, not for the money we were prepared to pay him, but for the story she’d told – the truth that Trixie’s life depended on there being no official record of her. Alongi could no longer pose any risk, but we couldn’t discount the possibility that the Mafia might still be searching for her, especially when their underboss didn’t return to New York. We’ll find out who knew he was coming to Arizona when we have our talk with him. Currently, he’s awaiting that pleasure, strung up to the rafters in the barn hidden away at the back of the club property. But he can wait. None of us are going anywhere until we get a medical assessment of Trixie’s condition.
I go from one side of the clubroom to the other, back, then repeat. My fists open and shut. Brothers stand or sit around me, the same concern that’s on mine echoed on all their faces. But there’s no comfort in shared misery.
When I hear a door opening, and the doctor appears, I rush over. “How is she, Doc?”
His lips purse as he grimaces, never a good sign. “Her ankle is either badly sprained or possibly broken. Without an X-ray, I can’t be sure. She’s got a probable concussion. There are contusions on her back where she was hit in the kidneys, and footprints on her stomach where she was kicked.” He pauses and meets my eyes. “She could have internal bleeding. I’ve not been able to check. I’ve fixed a catheter for now, and there’s no blood in her urine, so hopefully, there was no serious damage to her kidneys. Without taking her to the hospital, I’ve done all I can. Her heart rate and breathing seem steady, and on palpation I can find no swelling in her stomach. But that doesn’t rule out a slow bleed that could kill her.” He waits a beat, then adds, “She hasn’t been sexually violated.”
I breathe out. At least that’s something to be thankful for.
“As I told you when I arrived, she really should be in the hospital where we have the equipment to diagnose the extent of her injuries and monitor her properly.”
“The Mafia could be after her, Doc.” He nods, acknowledging he already knows that. “We know her ex-husband found her. We don’t know who else he might have disclosed her location to. Until we know that, she’s safer here than in the hospital.”
His lips tighten again. “I’m aware. And I found evidence of historic broken bones and scarring, so I can guess what she originally ran from.” He sighs. “I’ve strapped her ankle and put up an IV to deliver a painkiller, antibiotics, and fluids.” He pauses and looks me straight in the eye. “I’ve skipped out of my shift, citing a family emergency, but I’ve got to get back. Without specialist equipment, we won’t know what we’re working with until she wakes up.” Examining his face, there’s an “if” in there that he doesn’t voice. Trixie might not wake up if her internal injuries are too severe. “Bronwyn is going to monitor her. She knows what to look for.”
I remember something, lost in the depths of time and from the bottom of my memories, about her injuries from five years ago. When she first came to the club, she seemed to be forever popping tablets.
“She doesn’t have a spleen.”
