“Alright. Nearly there, babe,” he promised, driving down a familiar bumpy part of road, so I knew we were nearly at the turn off to the Devil’s warehouse.
Once parked, he ran around to my side and lifted me as gently as he could, heading inside and ignoring everyone’s remarks and looks as he passed them.
I let out a sob as he placed me on a couch in the back room, my whole body protesting as it throbbed and burned.
I’d been beaten plenty before, but this was a whole new level of fucked.
I felt it the moment Hunter entered the room, anger and worry rolling off him in waves before he even spoke.
“So, what the fuck happened? You didn’t make much sense on the fucking phone, man.”
“Skeet and I were just drinking at the shed with everyone, and Diesel heard car tires chewing up the gravel outside. He found her like this on the ground,” Marco explained, his fingertips lightly touching my shoulder.
I craved the comfort, but holy fuck it hurt.
I appreciated his effort though, especially after everything I’d said to him.
“So why isn’t she in the back of Skeeter’s car on the way to the fucking hospital?” Hunter snapped, making me groan as I flinched and my body ached.
Marco’s finger’s hesitated before continuing their small movements to let me know it was okay.
“I thought Diesel and Skeet were going to kill each other. Skeet wouldn’t let him help her and told us all to leave her where she was. I told him he wasn’t my boss, so I took her. She wanted our doc, not the hospital. You know she’s getting a name with the crews, and the cops would be all over us too,” he said gently, not wanting to startle me.
Hunter was quiet for a moment before sighing, his voice soft.
“You’ve talked to her?”
“Yeah, she’s awake. She’s just beat to shit,” he mumbled, his touch leaving my skin and causing a whimper to escape me.
He couldn’t leave me.
Just a little longer.
It was quiet for a moment before Hunter’s gentle touch landed on my shoulder.
“Hey, hot shot. You aren’t looking too good.”
“Fuck off. I’ve never been better,” I managed to get out, making him snort.
“Yeah, right. Do you think anything’s broken?” He asked as concern crept into his tone, his touch not leaving me as he waited for an answer
Probably.
“I don’t know. Everything hurts,” I croaked out, trying to pinpoint direct pain points but failing.
First the car crash, and now this on top of it.
“Alright. Marco’s going to go and get our guy to check you out, but if you have suspected broken bones or something, you might have to go to the hospital, okay?” He warned, taking his hand off me, the skin where he’d been touching going instantly cold.
I tried to sit up, gritting my teeth as pain jolted though me.
“No. I can’t fucking go there, and you know it. Cops will be all over the warehouse, the shed, and me. I don’t want you guys getting dragged into this shit. People talk about me enough so…”
“Damnit, Donovan. You’re killing me,” he groaned affectionately, placing a kiss on my forehead before moving back and telling Marco to get the doc.
He squatted beside me again, his voice firm. “You want to tell me what happened, or are you going to fucking lie to me?”
“Fight night with the Soldiers isn’t as much fun as fight night with the Devils or the Psychos,” I mumbled, a scowl taking over his handsome face.
“You were fighting for them?”
And winning for most of it, just saying.
“Not really a choice of mine. It was fine until they put two in with me,” I explained, trying to get comfortable but I couldn’t.
I had to push through the pain.
I couldn’t look weak, because I was technically in enemy territory.
“Didn’t think they did girl fights?” He questioned, his brows pulling down in confusion as he ran his gaze over my batted body again.
“They don’t,” I stated flatly, making him curse as he raked a hand through his messy black hair.
“You’ve been fighting the fucking Soldiers?” He bit out, anger washing through him as he stood up straighter.
“Only today. Most of Razor’s guys are pussies, so they could only beat me unfairly.”
I tried to move again, but he growled at me.
“Don’t fucking move, Rory. Jesus. Skeet really didn’t help you?”
I held back tears, hating that I was becoming emotional about it.
I’d asked him to hate me, so he was only doing his part.
“No. It’s not his job to help me, so it doesn’t matter. I wish they’d dumped me elsewhere so none of you guys…”
“Shut your mouth. I might be seriously pissed at you, but there’s no way I’d leave you like this,” he snapped with frustration.
Then I realized the Soldier’s plan, and it had worked.
“They only did it to show me that they can do what they want, and to prove that I’ve lost Skeet completely. They were testing to see if he’d help or not,” I said softly, a sigh leaving him.
“Babe, you broke Skeet. It’s not that he didn’t want to help you, he just didn’t want to be near you because it hurts him. He’s been a fucking mess since you kicked him to the curb for Razor. You need to stay away from the Soldier’s hang outs, because war’s getting closer, and I don’t want you hurt.”
I didn’t want them to go to fucking war.
I’d told them it was my choice.
“Don’t fight, Hunter. I chose, end of fucking story,” I growled, making him speak dryly.
“Yeah, well. You chose for unknown reasons that I don’t think you really wanted. I can read you like a fucking book, and Diesel and I both think you’re full of fucking shit, and so does Marco. Doc’s here, so be a good patient for once and sit still, or I will hold your stubborn ass down.”
Marco
Skeeter was lucky I hadn’t beat the shit out of him, right there in his shed in front of his brothers.
I didn’t give a fuck how pissed at Rory he was, he should’ve helped her.
He should’ve let Diesel fucking help her if he didn’t want to go near her.
I watched the doctor check her over, and I watched the defeat as it crossed her pretty face.
Whatever Razor had on her was breaking her, and I was starting to worry she wouldn’t be able to cope with the strain for too much longer.
Diesel and I were pretty close now, and he’d confided in me about finding Rory at the graveyard in the pouring fucking rain the other night.
I was glad he’d taken her home to make sure she was okay.
It was fucked that he had to hide that shit from his own crew to stop Skeeter going on a goddamn rampage, though.
I’d never spill Skeeter’s secrets, but I was close to smacking him in the fucking face in front of everyone to put him back in his place.
I’d been closer to him than any of the guys at one stage, and I knew that he lashed out like this when he was hurting badly.
I’d been the one to hurt him at one point, so I’d felt his hate personally before, and it fucking sucked.