“Can you walk? I need to get you away, now.” She sounded panicked.
“Yeah, give me a hand,” I croaked, and braced for the fresh wave of pain standing would create. Sucking in a fortifying breath, I pulled to my feet swaying from the way everything spun. As soon as the shifting room settled, I let go of the biker woman. I’d taken worse and walked away on my own. Head up, I strode through the door to the kitchen and out the back door. Vertigo threatened and I propped myself against the club wall. Fresh air cleared my head, and redoubled the pounding pain in my cheek. I knew I’d have a shiner, and I hadn’t even looked in a mirror.
Experience is a fucking bitch. This reminder hurt me as much as the first time my father had laid me out on the floor. Betrayal churned with my pain until tears blurred my vision, but I refused to let a single drop of water run down my cheek.
I willed my body to settle. How could I drive with the world jumping around? Shit, my keys and purse were under the counter at the bar, and going back in there would suck. A bony hand rested on my arm, definitely not Dare’s hand.
Scenarios of vengeance with Dare as my hero played through my brain. No one ever rescued me because I wasn’t a fucking heroine, just a girl to slap around. I needed to remember.
MJ pressed a bag of peas to my cheek. I grabbed the peas and held them in place.
Same shit different day.
She spoke to me, but I tuned out all her apologies and excuses. I’d heard them all. Even though I wanted nothing to do with her or the club, I let her lead me to a car and drive away since I couldn’t see well enough to drive myself.
“Look, Thorn’s a special case. I didn’t know he...”
I quit listening.
Wasn’t every abuser a special case with some excuse for his shit? No doubt the fault was mine, but I didn’t want to know what I’d done wrong this time. Instead, I mourned the loss of my dream—the one that died when I hit the club floor.
This really is home, I thought, a place where people I care about—I refuse to admit my love—hurt me for my own good. At the root of all abuse was the need to teach a lesson or control another. Whichever it was for the big guy, I didn’t have it in me to care.
Ironic. I’d thought this place was different. What a joke.
MJ let me into my apartment since we’d left my purse at the club. But at the door, I stopped her.
“I need ibuprofen and some rest. I know what to do.” My voice sounded weary.
MJ stared at me a long minute. “You been down this road before.”
I started to nod and my head exploded. “I paved the fucking road.”
I closed the door in her face, locked it and trudged to the bedroom. I grabbed four pills and swallowed them dry before heading to the freezer for a fresh ice pack. I stuck MJ’s peas in the freezer and drew out a pack of corn. I hated peas for exactly this reason—a truckload of peas had iced my bruised body, every one of those bruises caused by a man.
Chapter Eighteen: Dare
Three hours earlier
Blaring music woke me and I reached to slam the snooze but the alarm clock wasn’t there. I turned on my side and searched for it because if it didn’t stop soon my head would explode. I crawled out of bed and pulled the damn thing from the wall. A dark brown wall—not the clubhouse or Red’s—where was I?
Still dressed from the night before, I stumbled into the living room to find Rock passed out on his couch. Fuck, that’s right. We’d shut down Blue’s and came back here last night and drank until I can’t remember when.
I dug my phone out of my pocket. Seven missed calls. I glanced at the time—eleven thirty. I’d missed Red’s breakfast, but not a single call had been from her. Five from Jericho meant shit was serious, so I tugged on my boots and headed to my bike, not even bothering to wake Rock. What could be wrong? A fight at the club? Brothers picking a fight was normal, but this one had turned into full-scale mayhem.
Had Red been hurt? She better be fine or there’d be hell to pay.
I’d meant to make it to breakfast, which was why that alarm had probably been blaring at me, but I hadn’t gotten so wasted since the last time Jericho and I had a drinking contest. I made it to the club in ten minutes, about twice as fast as normal. Bikes lined the parking lot, along with a jeep 4x4—Thorn.
Motherfucker, that brother was a walking danger zone. I parked my bike, wondering who had set him off this time. If he was still on a tear, it’d take four of us to hold him back. I walked in to chaos. Bikers yammered in groups, Jericho poked Thorn in the chest, yelling at the top of his lungs and Bear stood at the edge of it all, arms crossed leaning against the wall.