Hardcore:Storm MC(110)

"Why'd you hang around?" I sat across from her, on the edge of my desk.



"I had to know. I could've exchanged my ticket, but I had to know she was safe. After you left … I thought about killing myself. I'm not tryin' to get your pity or nothin'. I really thought about it."



"What stopped you?"



She shrugged. "I didn't want her to know I went out like that."



I nodded. It was fair. I didn't believe it-I didn't believe a word she said, ever, but it was a good excuse. I wondered what she really wanted. Why would she hang around there when she knew I hated her? What if I never found Gigi-if I got back and saw Rae there, I would've killed her. It was a risk, sticking around. She had to want something.



She looked at me, and the way her eyes went narrow told me she had something on her mind. I knew it.   





 



"I think you and me have some talkin' to do," she said.



I only nodded. "I think you're right."





Chapter Twenty-Eight



Jamie





"Ouch." I couldn't help but wince when I felt the sting of alcohol on my scalp.



"Sorry," Traci murmured. "I'll have you cleaned up soon. It's not deep. Hardly anything."



"Head wounds always bleed more," I said.



Erica snorted from her seat across from me. "Yeah, no kidding." She'd needed stitches, though. My cut wasn't anything a few butterfly bandages couldn't handle.



I ached all over-the sting of my scalp was nothing compared to my bruised tailbone, aching arms and legs. My jaw hurt so much that it was tough to speak. Even my throat hurt from screaming. Still, I wouldn't let go of Gigi. She was curled up in my lap, a warm, limp body in the middle of sleep. I wasn't sure I would ever let go of her. Not after we came so close to losing her.



When I pulled up at the clubhouse with her, Erica had come running out. Gigi's scream of total joy was ear-splitting but understandable. She'd thrown herself into Erica's arms, overjoyed that she was still alive. Erica had felt the same about Gigi.



We sat together in the lounge with Traci making sure I was okay. Gigi was unharmed-physically, anyway. I didn't know about emotional damage. She was young enough that it would subside over time, but she would need our help to get over it. I wouldn't let the experience stick with her, no matter what I had to do.



"I'm going to need a handful of ibuprofen," I murmured, shifting uncomfortably. I was sitting on a pillow, but it still didn't help. Once the adrenaline wore off, the pain came crashing into me.



"We'll get you fixed up," Erica promised. "You should've gone to the hospital, like I did. Stubborn."



"No way. I didn't want the police to know what happened. You could get away with saying you fell and hit your head. What was I going to say? They would've seen the bruises." I had a bruised jaw from the hit the buyer laid on me, and bruises circled my biceps thanks to The Scarecrow's hands. The cops would've been brought straight to me.



"I know Lance would feel better if he was sure you don't have a concussion. You could get painkillers at the hospital, too."



"I'm sure Lance would feel better without having the police at his door." I smiled at Erica, who nodded. "Besides, I feel fine. I'll stay up all night it if makes you feel better. I won't sleep. Just to be on the safe side."



"After what you've been through?" She looked skeptical.



"Sweetie, I couldn't sleep right now if you paid me." I shivered a little at the word "paid," memories of bargaining with The Scarecrow coming back. No, sleep wasn't an option. I didn't feel like dealing with the nightmares.



Some of the club members walked in and out, checking on us from time to time. One of them got my ibuprofen at Erica's request, another brought ice for my jaw. I held the pack with one hand, with Gigi under the other arm. Nobody could take her away from me.



"You were so brave," Traci murmured, sitting beside me. She held the ice in place for me for a while, giving my arm a break. "Everybody said how loud you screamed. Gigi told us how you fought them off. I mean, this bruise … "



I shrugged it off. "Either of you would have done it to protect her. Trust me, you don't know what you're capable of until you're in the situation. I would never have imagined fighting the two of them off like that. In the moment, it was all I could do. And it's not like I fought them off, I only held them back."



"Long enough for the guys to come in and get you."



I shook my head. I still felt like a failure-there was no way to describe it. I shouldn't have let it happen in the first place. I should have fought harder when it did happen. I should have killed them both. I would have, if I could. I still would even after the fact. It took a lot of self-control not to take The Scarecrow's gun and shoot them both when I saw them tied up on the bed.



It was better for them to go to prison for a long, long time. They would suffer the way they made other people suffer. Tears came to my eyes.



"What is it?" Traci slid an arm around my shoulders.



"I can't imagine how many other women weren't so lucky is all."



Traci squeezed gently, and the three of us sat in silence for a long time.







"I'd better put her to bed."



I looked up to find Lance standing over me. It was the first time I'd seen him since we got back to the clubhouse. He'd been in his office, door closed, for hours.



"She's fine with me," I whispered. Traci and Erica were both asleep-they'd decided to sit up with me, but it hadn't taken long before they nodded off. I was the only one still awake. I'd thought there were voices coming from Lance's office, but didn't know who was inside.



"Let me take her upstairs," he said, scooping her up. "You need to rest-but before that, we have to talk. I'll be right back." He carried her upstairs before I could protest. I waited for him, looking around the room from my seat. I never thought I'd be grateful to see the inside of the clubhouse again, but when we got back I'd almost kissed the floor in relief. Anything was better than that motel room and whatever waited for me after that.



How would I ever repay any of them for what they did for me? For Gigi? I wasn't clear on the details, being unconscious for most of it, but I'd heard Slate shot the gun out of The Scarecrow's hand. So close to my head, too. He was a sharpshooter in the Army, I found out. Lucky for me he was still so accurate.



I felt much the same as I had while I sat at my house earlier. My image of myself was changing. My image of them was changing, too. They did the right thing. They might have been criminals, capable of any number of shady things, but they weren't bad people. They weren't evil, like The Scarecrow and his buyer. They fought for what was right. It was never clearer to me, the difference between them and the really bad people in the world.



Lance came back downstairs. I couldn't read the look on his face. Relief? Tension? Discomfort? All three? He came to me, holding out his hands.



"What is it?" I asked. I wished he would talk to me. It felt almost like there was a wall between us. Did he hate me for letting Gigi get kidnapped? Did he think I should've tried harder to protect her?



"Come with me. There's something we have to talk over."



I got up slowly, wincing at the pain in my lower back. I'd be sleeping on my stomach whenever I next slept. Good thing, too, since the back of my head was off-limits until the pain there went down.



He led me to the office, with me limping the whole way. It wasn't until we stepped inside and the door closed behind us that I realized who Lance had been with all night.



"You." I nearly growled when I saw Rae sitting on the sofa by the wall. She wouldn't meet my eyes. "How could you?"



"So you know, then?" Lance murmured.



"I figured it out. How else would he know where she was?" I shook Lance's hands off and walked to her, pain forgotten. "How can you call yourself a mother?" I asked.



She sat still, looking at the floor.



"Look at me." I waited until she lifted her head. Her eyes met mine. I let all the hatred I felt for her show in my face. She shrank in front of me.



"Okay. Enough for now. Come on." Lance led me to a chair beside his desk. He sat next to me with a sigh. "I've been talking some things over with Rae," he said.



"How can you talk to her about anything? She doesn't deserve the time!"



"Can you please wait a minute? Please. Just listen."



I glared at him. How could he talk to me that way after what I had been through? But I held my tongue, if only because my throat was raw and my jaw ached.



Rae cleared her throat. "I'll never forgive myself for what I did. Ever. You don't need to tell me it was wrong. I panicked when he told me he would kill me."



"She owed him money," Lance explained, his voice quiet.



"So you were clean, huh? Just like you always told me?" I scoffed.



She winced. "Yeah, I know. I hate myself for that, too. You don't have to remind me."



"I do have to remind you," I said. Lance reached out to stop me from speaking, but I brushed him off. "You let a man take your daughter. You knew he was going to sell her. Sell. Her."



"Enough, Jamie. She knows. That's not why we're here together." I looked at him, waiting for an explanation. "We're talking about custody of Gigi."