Page 72 of Property of Rattler

“Remind me not to do that again,” he manages to get out. “You’re heavier than you fuckin’ look.”

Ames pushes past me and opens the door to Freak’s room. Short half carries, half guides me toward it, then manoeuvres me in the direction of the bed from which Ames has pulled the comforter away. Immediately I sink down onto the sheet covered mattress, and sigh heavily. Even sitting hurts me, and as I lie down, I feel what that asshole had done to my back.

“You gonna be okay?” Short directs his question to Ames.

She looks a bit hesitant, I doubt she’s ever been faced with a broken, bleeding man before. No wonder she’s feeling out of her depth. Though when she answers my brother, her voice is firm. “We’ll be fine.”

He claps his hand on her shoulder, “I’ll go call Bronwyn. She’s just about finishing her shift. She’ll be here as soon as she can.” His eyes land on me again. “Do you think you need a doctor, Rat?”

“Nah.” Truthfully, I don’t know one way or another. But I can’t go to the hospital, not with my type of injuries, too many questions would be asked. And Bronwyn’s only recently had to call in a doctor friend to treat Trixie. Somehow, I don’t think the civilian will be inclined to treat me the same way he was persuaded to help her.

After giving me chin, he leaves.

Ames closes the door behind him, then stands looking flummoxed. Her hands flutter as her eyes first land on my face, then follow down the rest of my body. Maybe I should explain, Stone had stripped me bare by cutting off my clothes. Instead of transporting me naked on the back of Prez’s bike — which would probably have raised questions and not a few eyebrows — I’m dressed in Woody’s spare clothes he’d had in his saddle bags, sweats, already soaked through with blood, and a t-shirt that’s far too big for me. That too, is covered in patches of crimson red. My feet? Well, at least Bullseye found my boots for me.

She’ll need to undress me if she’s going to help.

Despite what I led Stone to believe, I never touched her, we never shared that intimacy. Now I can’t find the words to tell her to take off my clothes. We’re no longer at the cabin, we’re back at the compound. Maybe she’s already thinking of me differently.

Instead, I ask the question that’s been playing on my mind. “Why did you use Freak’s room last night? Why not use mine?”

A sob comes out of her, followed by another, and soon tears are streaming down her face. “Because,” she starts, then chokes up. I give her the time to pull herself together. “Because I thought you were…” her voice hesitates, then lowers on the final word, “dead.” Then she adds, “I couldn’t bear to be surrounded by your things. They’d have reminded me how I left you…”

“Oh, darlin’,” I breathe out. It had been bad for me, but maybe worse for her. I feel a fool for doubting her feelings had changed. I hold out my arms, well, one and a half of them, my fucking left shoulder is useless, and my hand throbs where Stone had cut off my finger. “You did what you had to. They’d have killed both of us if you’d stayed.”

She takes a hesitant step forward. “I could have helped you. Could have prevented,” her hand gestures toward my body, “this.”

“Babe, there were too many. And if you’d been there, they would have achieved their objective. Stone would have had no reason to take me, he’d have killed me on the spot. Believe me you couldn’t have helped.” Seeing she still looks guilty, I emphasise, “You running to safety saved my life.”

My eyes narrow as I realise her initial euphoria at seeing me alive has faded. Her eyes are looking beyond me, her face has paled, and she’s visibly trembling. “Ames?” I prompt, suddenly worried as fuck.

“I killed a man tonight. I aimed and shot him, just how you taught me.” Her voice is monotone.

Jesus. Fuck!I never wanted that for her. The heart that I never thought I had breaks as I realise how much it must have cost her to take a life, she’d been through her own hell while I’d been gone. She wouldn’t even contemplate leaving glass lying around in case a squirrel stepped on it, let alone kill someone. Again, I gesture toward her. “Come here.”

For a moment she seems frozen to the spot. Fuck, I wish I could go to her, but my limbs are too heavy and painful to move. I try to encourage her by gentling my voice. “Ames, come to me.” Then I remember all those little things she’d done for me back at the cabin, how she likes to help someone else. I rephrase my request, “I need you, Ames.”

The suggestion that the comfort is for me, instead of for her, seems to work, or at least gets her moving. She takes another step, and then one more. When she reaches the bed, she goes on her knees and reaches out her arms to me. At least she’s on the right side where I’ve some control over my arm, I wrap it around her and pull her close, feeling her body vibrate as she continues to shake.

The dam breaks, and she again starts sobbing, this time as if she’ll never stop. And as she cries, I feel a reciprocal wetness on my cheeks, and know those tears are mine. Fuck gettingundressed, fuck cataloging my injuries, we both need solace more than doctoring right now.

There had been times in that abandoned building when I’d thought I was going to meet my end. I didn’t know why Stone was keeping me alive. He kept switching his reasoning up. Playing sick games to torture me. My finger was just the start, he’d told me at first. He’d return me to his sister, piece by piece. He’s hovered around me, knife in hand, telling me next he was going to take an eye. I think he wanted me to beg, but I’d refrained.

At one point he’d said he was leaving my eventual demise until Ames could be there to witness it. Then, he’d switch it up. When I overhead from his phone call he was going to make an exchange with my club, me for her. I’d fucking lost it at that point.Bullseye would never do that, would he?

And all the time he was mentally torturing me, he was hitting me with that fucking baseball bat.

When he put those fucking annulment papers in front of me, I’d signed them, not knowing his game, if there was a chance she could live her life free, I’d do anything. By then, I’d given up hope of ever being close to her again, and in those times I wasn’t concentrating on surviving what he doled out, I was regretting not cementing my relationship with Ames, promising to myself if I ever got out, I was going to make what we had real.

The hours I’d been with Stone had fucked with my mind. I’d started to believe she’d come to her senses and think she was better off without me, that she’d take the opportunity I’d given her, sign that fucking annulment document and use it. Why would she hang around for someone like me? Especially seeing how I’d dismissed her advances toward me, and said those cruel things to get her running to safety.

I was shocked as hell by her behaviour since I arrived back at the clubhouse. She so clearly cares and acts nothing like awoman who’s going to take the first chance to get rid of the man who’d entered with her into that fake as shit marriage.

There’s not one part of my body that doesn’t hurt, but the pain means nothing now she’s back in my arms. Although my nose is swollen, I still enjoy the sense of breathing her in, I might be in agony, but feeling her heart steadily beating is soothing. My mind wonders how I ever deserved this woman who constantly surprises me. Did she run and hide when the club was attacked? Apparently, no. She’d used the skills I’d taught her and took at least one of Stone’s men out. While it’s something she’ll have to come to terms with, I’m so fucking proud of her.

I couldn’t tell you how long we lay there taking comfort from each other. In the end, it’s her who moves first. She pulls away, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. “This isn’t helping you.”

Oh, but it is. I clutch at her hand, pulling it to my mouth, and placing a kiss on it. “Ames, I…”